THE CRIMSON COUNTENANCE

Can you remember a time when you were embarrassed unto beet red? I mean embarrassed so that you were BEGGING the ground to swallow you up? I can remember that happening to me at least twice, and that's remarkable because I've NEVER been accused of having a good memory. One time that stands out in my mind is from waaay back in 1959 or 60. I can remember that vignette like I'm watching the video LIVE.

My friends and I were old enough to have a leash that extended probably a couple of miles from our house. In those days, we walked everywhere freely; 1960 was pre-predators. Often our destination was a drug store by Big Star on Gee Street. In the back of this drug store was a soda fountain and we would walk there to buy a coke or an ice cream cone. Baby-sitting money must have been burning a hole in this thirteen-year-old's pocket.

Somewhere along the line, someone thought of doing a daring thing. What if we took our ticket from the soda fountain...and wandered up through the store and pretended to be shopping for a while...and then casually just walked out past the cashier without paying...how would they know if we had paid or not? I don't remember if I thought up the plan, but I do remember being afraid the kids wouldn't like me if I didn't go along. (Note to self: 49 years have gone by and I'm still working on that trait of people pleasing.) I can remember the moment I decided to go along, even though that first time was so scarey. Then...liberation...we got away with it! The clerks were so easy to fool. The next few times when we did it, it got easier and easier. My "pretending to shop" act took on more and more flourish. I was Greta Garbo reborn.

Now the next part is fuzzy. I had great parents and I can't remember how Mother found out. I think they had a Mother Underground back then with a hotline. Thank goodness. Anyway, one awful day Mama asked me about it. I remember her face and how it hurt her to even ask me if it were true. I spilled the beans right away because being found out was killin' me. When I admitted it was true, she told me that I had stolen from those people and I should make it right. I was feeling so low you couldn't slide a razor blade under me. Quickly I agreed that I should pay them back (although I had no idea how many times I had done it) and she agreed. I thought that meant that she would take the money in for me. Imagine my shock when Mother insisted that I take the money to them and confess and tell them how sorry I was for taking things without paying for them.

I remember very well the "slow molasses dread" of the car ride to the drug store. I remember Mother pulling up in front, and me getting out by myself. I remember being glad there were no customers at the front cash register. The lady behind the counter asked if she might help me and I handed her some money. She asked me what the money was for...and my countenance glowed red like hot charcoal briquettes. I explained the dirty deed and said that I was so sorry (I was sorry all right!) and I would NEVER do it again. The lady said something encouraging about how she appreciated my honesty to come in and admit what I had done (like it was ME who thought of the plan!).

Back in the car, I can remember being so glad that my life of crime was over. What a relief! And there even was a smidgen of pride that I had done the right thing in confessing. My Mother was a pretty smart cookie. I can't recall EVER even being tempted to take something that was not mine after that. Consequences are prime motivators. Looking back, I can't say that I "fessed up" because I had a sense of disappointing Jesus. I'm sure Mama told me to tell God that I was sorry. But there was someone in front of me with flesh and bones that I had disappointed and THAT nearly broke my heart. The episode was tough love and Mother must have gotten an "A" in parenting that semester.

"He who conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will find compassion." Proverbs 28:13

Note: This picture is from 1961 when I was in 9th grade. I found the 1960 picture, but the writer retains the right to pick the cutest one. Besides, the red sweater coordinated with the theme.