The Caper

My wife asked me how old I was when I learned the lesson about stealing being bad. The year was 1957. I was brash. I was bold. I was six.

Compared to other first-graders, I suppose my moral compass needed lubrication. Its rusty pointer found nothing to fault in my decision to steal fifty big ones from my mother's open purse and go on a spending spree.

Two blocks down the hill from our house in Raleigh was The Store. History long ago lost its actual name, but everybody who lived on Drury Lane in 1957 knows that fifty cents went a long way at The Store.

A six-year old pickpocket with two purloined quarters and free run of the neighborhood was a lost soul waiting for Satan. I was foundering in a Faustian dilemma. I didn't want to spend the money. I was going to put it back. Or donate it to an orphan's charity.

And then I saw the freshly-opened display box of individually wrapped bite-size peanut butter logs. I could do great things with fifty of those. Advances in the fields of nutrition, medicine, physics, and science were at my fingertips. I could buy world peace. The orphans would simply have to wait their selfish little turn.

I had never held so many peanut butter logs in my hands before. It was surreal. I had riches beyond comprehension in a wrinkled brown paper sack...two blocks from home.

But I could never go home again. Not with that overstuffed bag of peanut butter logs in my sweaty little hands. Mother would immediately know I had stolen the money.

I needed a 'Plan B'. When I finally worked out the details, even I was impressed. My plan was brilliant. It was foolproof.

I started eating as fast as I could. I slit the wrappers open and popped the little treats into my mouth one at a time. Then two at a time.

I ran out of spit on the seventh peanut butter log. My tongue was stuck in the full UP position. I needed water, and water was at home, a place I'd have to avoid while the scandal cooled off.

I'd never see home again, unless I had a plausible reason for being in possession of fifty minus seven individually wrapped bite-size peanut butter logs.

I couldn't lie to Mother. I could steal and disobey and ruin my appetite, but she always knew when her sons were lying. Retribution would be immediate and too horrifying to imagine.

I needed a 'Plan C'.

I was blinded by the magnificence of my own solution. Running out of time, I rolled the bag tighter and tossed it on the ground. Then I covered it with dirt and leaves.

There was no turning back, now. I walked away ten or twelve steps, then sped back to the last place I had seen the bag. I hadn't completely covered it, so it was easy to dig up.

I went home, triumphant, invulnerable. I didn't even need to hide the bag. Mother spotted it immediately and started in on me.

"What'cha got in th' bag, Jon-Jon?"

"Sumpin'," I said.

"Lemme see." No problem. I handed over the bag and grinned as she inspected the treasure within. Plan 'C' was in full motion. I knew what was coming next.

"Where did you get this?"

Plan C was working great! She was about to be checkmated and she'd have to give me back my bag of peanut butter logs, to boot. All I had to do was to tell her the truth.

"I found it in the woods. I dug it up."

"WHAT? You didn't eat any of these, did you? Tell me you didn't eat any." She was upset. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to give me my bag of candy and go back to making dinner.

The plan was unraveling. It was bursting into flames at Lakehurst. It was going down without enough life boats.

"How many did you eat?"

"Seven."

"Oh, God...stay right there. I'll call the doctor - oh, I hope they're not poisoned. No. No, I'll call the police. They'll know what to do."

She was panicking. This wasn't checkmate, not even close. I never anticipated her next question.

"What woods?"

What I carry today is not so much a scar as it is a memorandum burnished onto human flesh by a leather strap energetically wielded against my six-year old blue jeans. I can still feel every letter of my reprimand.

"Don't eat candy you found in the woods!"
"There aren't any woods around here!"
"Don't steal from your mother!"
"Don't lie!"
"Start eating."