Friday, October 21, 2011

The Unjustness of a $20 Bill

When I was a kid I was making my way home from Robert Mixon's house by cutting through back yards from his street to my street, half a block away. Each yard had a chain link fence which I could easily jump by putting both hands on top then throwing my feet skyward to propel myself to the other side. I didn't even need a running start. I was good for a nine year old.

As I made my way through a yard I looked down and couldn't believe it! Crumbled and lying in grass was a $20 bill. It may have been like Uncle Jed shooting his gun to discover oil or Jack Benny opening up his vault filled with the money he refused to spend.

I was rich!

Stuffing the bill into my jeans I ran home to share my incredible good fortune. "MOM!" I screamed as I ran into the house which was silent. Flying through the rooms, my Dad was asleep.

He worked nights and slept days. He'd wake up around the time we got home from school, cook dinner while we waited on Mom to get home from work and then we would sit and eat together before he went back to work.

Seeing he was still asleep, I tip toed out of the house. I knew from experience not to wake him up. (Now that I think about it, I must have skipped school on this particular day because I was coming from Robert Mixon's house and he and I had numerous adventures together --- stealing all of the American flags out of the Port Wentworth Elementary School, stealing all of the fire extinguishers from the factory on the other side of the viaduct, filling up the Baptismal pool in the First Baptist Church for a pool party, etc.)

On the carport I pondered what to do.

After a few moments I jumped on my bicycle and rode to Cowart's Drug Store, by far the most important establishment in the city of Port Wentworth, Georgia. He had a massive comic book section that I would stand in front of reading comics until Mr. Cowart would walk up to say, "This is not a library son."

On this day though, I was rich. I bought my Mom a bottle of perfume and got Dad some Old Spice. I picked up a couple of packs of baseball cards for my brother David. My sister Angi was still too small to merit a gift as she wouldn't have appreciated it. I then bought myself twenty-seven comic books and a chocolate shake from the Fountain.

This was one great day!

I carried the treasures back home and laid them on the kitchen table. Dad was up and he walked in and looked at the gifts laid out for my family.

"Where did you get these?" he asked rubbing his eyes still filled with sleep.

"I bought them," I proudly explained.

"With what?" he asked.

It was a good question. We had little money back then. Everyday, depending on if it was David or me that Dad could grab by the neck, one of us would have to ride our bicycle to Crosby's Food Town to buy whatever it was we were having for dinner that evening.

So I excitedly explained how I found $20 and wanted to shower my family (sans Angi) with lavish gifts.

Dad figured I was lying. What normal Port Wentworth nine year old boy would do such a thing? What Port Wentworth yard would have a $20 bill laying in it. Who had $20 at all in Port Wentworth, Georgia?

Dad figured I'd shoplifted from Cowart's Drug Store (see above references to Robert Mixon and myself) so he took me in the back and gave me a serious spanking. Then he made me take all of the things I bought back to Mr. Cowart who was shocked but took everything back.

And I learned about injustice that day.

Sometimes you do the right thing and you are punished for it. There are people who will deprive you so they can have what they think is better or right. You can do holy and good works and still get screwed for it. The Problem of Evil in the universe! Why do bad things happen to good people?"

So yesterday rocked and rolled along and I was getting lots accomplished, throwing good across the universe, leaving people smiling and satisfied ... loving everything and everybody ... until suddenly I wasn't. Life became unsettled and unsettled went to bed with me last night. If you've ever slept with unsettled then you know that there is no sleeping.

I remembered that night all of those years ago lying in bed, crying and angry ... pissed at my Dad for injustice to me. He was logical in his thinking but ... this was unjust.

"The truth is always in the middle," is one of my favorite sayings and I really do believe that wholly.

Last night I lay there ... tossing and turning ... almost half asleep but mostly awake ... and remembered the $20 bill.

In the end it all turned out fine. Dad was doing his best to raise me right. Mom thought it was sweet that I either found $20 and spent it on the family (sans Angi) or had shoplifted because I was hanging around Robert Mixon but obviously loved my family. David was madder than hell that I had to take his baseball cards back to Mr. Coward.

But they loved me. And they loved the thought. Even though it didn't work out right.

Because sometimes, unjust things happen.