Original music Monday: Here is the 10th song I wrote. It is called Is it Love or is it Sin? Let me know….
Here is a short story I tried posting when I first started the blog back in November of last year. I’m not sure it was posted properly or on time, so here it is:
A seven-year-old growing up on a U.S. military base in Japan, I was full of all of the typical questions that run through a typical seven-year-old’s mind. Like “what if me and my buddy Stevie could devise a plan to get all of our classmates’ valuables: money, gum, candy, and cool light-up pencils with little troll doll erasers?
Here we go.
Stevie was a room monitor, responsible for making sure the windows (accessible from the ground) to the class were all secured and locked before allowing the students to spill out into the huge cement-covered playground for thirty minutes of play for recess.
See where this is going?
So, here is where the master plan sort of took a wrong turn. Everything was fine and we had really pulled it off so far: Stevie made sure the window was left open for us to re-enter the classroom, we got everything of value in every desk, put it into a brown paper bag, and stashed it under a hissing old, rusty steam-stained radiator just outside the classroom in the hall.
We had pulled it off.
As our classmates re-entered the room, everyone started opening up their desktops and immediately cries rang out about missing money, gum, candy, and cool light-up pencils with little troll doll erasers.
Everyone except me and Stevie that is. My genius plan did not include us losing anything. I guess I just wasn’t that devious. So much for the Master Plan.
Evidently, our teacher immediately read the situation, bearing in on Stevie and me as we cowered at our desks. Not being a seasoned thief (this was my very first caper), I panicked. I sprang to my feet, raised both hands and said “Hold it! What would I do if I were the thief? I would put everything in a bag and put it out in the hall under the radiator.”
Evidently, this smooth deceptive move bore no fruit as Stevie and I were marched unceremoniously to the Principal’s office and his paddle. You can call it a paddle, but I contend it is more rugby bat than ping-pong paddle.
Now I can tell you that there were very few things that could be assuaged, forgiven, or even ignored in our family. But the ONE thing you did not do. You were NOT a thief! I knew this and it kept ringing through my ears as I lay in my bed at 2pm with eight comic books stuffed under my pajamas as I feigned sleep. I knew there would be hell to pay when Mom came home and saw the red slip of paper from the school on her dresser.
Now I would like to say that I was overly cautious and didn’t need to take such silly precautions because Mom and I just talked it out rationally and I took away a valuable life lesson.
But this was 1961.
I never took anything that wasn’t mine from that day forward.
And my ass still stings from that ass-whipping.