Or more specifically, ones that you knew about, either at the time or afterwards. I've had three which I know about, only the latest of which I actually asked for.
The first was when I was 16, applying for my first "real" job at a Walgreens in the St. Paul midway area, working as a waitress at the lunch counter, back when Walgreens had those. I got very little real training, made terrible tips, but learned for the first time there was such a thing as a vanilla soda and I could make one by putting the right flavor syrup into a glass of charged water. I could make it a vanilla Coke as well, or other combinations. The FBI hook was in order to work there I had to be "bonded", meaning they had to check whether as a 16-year-old I'd managed to get a criminal record as one of my accomplishments. I had to take a slip home to my parents to give their approval for the investigation. Or I could just not work there. My parents debated it for a while before signing. But hey, it was just Walgreens. Bonding was just a more ubiquitous practice than they'd realized.
I passed. When less than a year later I switched to working for Montgomery Wards, no bonding was required. Nor was it ever again... that I'm aware of.
The last FBI investigation is much more recent. While living in Arizona I applied to get a concealed carry permit. I had no gun to conceal, much less carry. Nor did/do I ever plan to. But there were plans to travel through Texas on the route between AZ and MN each year, and I still believe to this day it would give me more "cred" if ever I were pulled over there by some trigger-happy Bozo in uniform. I passed this investigation as well, and promptly refused to ever drive through Texas again. Go figure. I still carry the permit, though with living in MN now, it grants me absolutely nothing. It doesn't matter to me, except that the slots for plastic cards in my pocketbook are getting too full to get all my cards into without a struggle. It still amuses me to carry the card, so it stays in its spot. I tossed out some Arizona-specific cards instead, like my Voter ID. I won't need that again.
During the time in between the 1st investigation in the '60s and the last just a few years ago is the one I never knew about while it was happening, would never have learned about if I hadn't passed, but would just have lost a source of income if I hadn't. These days I remember about it perhaps once a decade, along with its tinge of temporary paranoia which learning about it produced for a few weeks. It comes up right now since we're getting investigated before we can get into the place we want to live, much more on credit history and general criminality, no FBI involved. Not that I'd have a problem if they were.
It was in the early '70s, and I was a new mom in a trailer park with a husband and our first baby. We were almost at the point in this country where maternity leave was protected by being able to return to your job, but since that hadn't happened yet, I became self employed doing in-home family day care. There was my first, then a pair of siblings, then my second, and last in the group at this point was a young girl not quite in kindergarten, if I remember correctly. My second child may or may not have been born when she started coming. Such details fade in relation to the timing of others. Our little group took a lot of walks in the area, as we were near a nice lake with little traffic on the roads during weekdays.
I was told very little about the older child during our intake interview. There was an unnamed kind of health issue revolving around immunity, requiring gamma globulin. If I recall correctly, day care was the first she was allowed around other kids with all their germ sharing. Mom, an RN finally able to return to work, managed the medical side of her care, hospitals and treatments, no meds for me to give. The child was a bit physically awkward, a bit behind her peers by age, had some possible development issues from early illness and isolation, and shy at first. She was quiet, well behaved, and seemed to adapt fairly well to the younger children around her. More information filtered in as time went on. She was a surviving twin. Without any other details, I assumed she'd had the same health issues but a worse outcome. I wonder if the twin died before or after birth, but either way Mom was sure this child missed her sibling, who, aside from the the one comment, was never mentioned, never named.
Daddy was a cigar smoker, and I made a conscious effort not to let the lingering odor in her clothing put me off to giving her the hugs and attention the others got. After about a year in my care, now that she was in school, her irate mother stopped in one day to ask why I hadn't said anything about the lingering smell, which now was separating her socially from her schoolmates, and not in a friendly way.
I was dumbfounded. I'd been raised to always be polite and not mention all kinds of things to others. It didn't seem to make a difference in our home, but yes, I did notice it. Her teacher didn't have the upbringing I did and made it a point within a couple weeks of the start of school to ask her mother to get rid of all cigar smoking inside their house and be sure to scrub all traces of the stink from everything inside, including this child's clothing. Mom had become immune to the smell but after hearing from the teacher made sure Daddy only smoked outside after that. He wasn't happy. Too bad. Their daughter was more socially accepted after that. And I got a needed lesson.
You've been patient but are probably wondering just what this has to do with an FBI investigation. Her mom asked to have a private chat with me after she'd been in my care a few months, partly because we were outside as much as we were. We discovered asparagus to pick and eat in early summer, found blackberry bushes to carefully pick berries from in July, walked along the lakes or to a nearby park, or whatever was right for the weather and activity levels of the kids. There were field trips, including a local library with story times, the grocery store to shop for food, even a trip to the zoo or the state capitol building. It was our being so active that brought on the conversation with her mom.
I'd no idea I had passed another FBI background check after taking on the care of this girl. But there were things happening that meant we might be followed while we were out and about, and I needed to be aware of who, why, and what I needed to do, and not do.
The biggest "not do" was tell anybody else what I was about to hear. I didn't for a very long time, until the people involved were no longer being threatened, protection was way past being needed, and I'd long since lost contact with the family, even to remembering their last name. When much younger, this child had been kidnapped. She'd been held as an attempt to influence the actions of a close relative of the family who was in an important position of influence in the CIA. I was never given a name or a job title. However, being related to the family, occasionally he would visit. As a result, in order to protect this child from any repeat attempts to harm her, any time the relative was in the area, or any other time a threat was deemed likely, she would have protection from high levels of the government. I might, in that event, without any notification whatsoever so as to give her as normal a life as possible, notice that I/we were being discretely followed. New cars would be in the area. It should be, I was informed, so discrete I'd never notice it, but if I did I wasn't to panic but just be aware. After all, I and the other kids would also be protected at the same time. For the record, I never did notice any such activity. But I was informed that an FBI background check was ordered on me at the direction of the CIA, and I had passed. This child could stay in my care.
I was blown away. It was a hard secret to keep, but the thought I might be being monitored secretly kept me quiet, even if I were tempted. I became cautious of what I said even jokingly on the phone. There were sudden flashes of "OMG THEY INVESTIGATED ME!" My conscience dragged up every last tiny thing, wondering if they'd found out about whatever it was. Then that changed to wondering if they cared about whatever it was. After all, I passed. So were they stupid or indifferent? Were they still checking in on me? I did eventually get over myself.
Once she was in school full time, she left day care since a parent was home before and after school. I lost track of her because we moved a couple miles away.
I do wonder now if this child has survived to become a mother, even a grandmother. Were her health issues genetic, preventing children? How is she doing socially, assuming she lived to grow up? Does she remember our little day care? Did she grow up hearing tales of her powerful relative and the cost of being family? Or was she protected from all knowledge except whatever she may have remembered from a very tender age, perhaps reliving in nightmares? Of all the children who came and went through that day care, she is the one I have the most questions about with the least expectation of any answers.
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