When I was a little boy in 1961, I was taught a lesson around Thanksgiving that I've never forgot.
My Aunt Sue was married to my mom’s brother Marvin. Aunt Sue died the Saturday before Mother’s Day in 2010. Marvin’s still around. He’s healthy. He’ll be 94 in January.
Aunt Sue was driving, with my mom beside her on the bench seat in the front. I was in the back. This was in Norwich, Connecticut. It was a dull gray afternoon and the street signs were all a jumble. Even a local couldn’t tell what route we were on and where we were headed.
Aunt Sue pulled into the lot of a convenience store. I was just 6 years old. She gave me a BIG job. I was to go in the store and ask the clerk what route we were on.
I did just that. I came out of the store and told them where we were. I was chewing bubble gum as I talked. Aunt Sue asked me where did I get the gum. I told her, “I took it from the counter.”
Aunt Sue and my mom together said, “NO, you stole it from the counter.” They made me spit out the gum. They threw it away. They told me to go right back in the store and apologize for stealing the gum. They gave me two cents to pay for it – paying double the price because that’s what’s right when making up for doing what’s wrong.
That was in 1961. They gave me good direction. Sixty-two years later, the only thing I have shoplifted, in my entire life, was that piece of bubble gum.