Choices

When I was a kid, I used to have a conscious. I worried all of the time. Maybe it was because I had/have a Jewish mother; with the guilt thing and all. My inner voice would talk to me, mostly at night, and keep me from focusing on anything else I needed to get done. Like sleeping.

I specifically remember one night. It's funny because it is such a vivid memory. I was nine, and it was during the holidays. My Baubie (my mother's mother), gave me $20. The gift came without any strings attached. It wasn't my holiday present, either. For her, $20 was a lot of money. For me, it was too. She gave it to me and said, "go buy yourself something." And that was it. She didn't give any to my brothers, she didn't give any to my cousins. She just gave it to me. I didn't ask any questions; grateful that I was the recipient of such a nice gesture. My parents knew she gave me the money, and my dad offered to take me to the store to spend the money the next day. He did, however, also suggest that I either save the money, or share it with my brothers.

It's one of those moments in a kid's life--or maybe just mine--when you are given the responsibility of making the right choice. The right choice, in this case, was either to save the money, or return the gift of generosity by sharing the wealth with my brothers. I didn't have my mind made up when we left for the store, but I knew I wasn't going to save the money.

When we got to Perry Drugs, I walked up and down the aisle, looking for something fun. It was a drugstore, but since it was the holiday season, they had more toys than usual. I already had a Rubik's Cube and the other popular Snake Cube that all of my friends had. I also knew that I might be getting toys from my parents and other relatives, so I quickly gave up on getting anything fun.

For some reason, I settled on a pair of mirrored sunglasses. My dad kept trying to talk me out of buying them, but I was committed to making them mine. I thought they made me look cool, even though they clearly were made for an adult face.

"Are you sure you want these?" my father kept asking. "You look ridiculous in them. What about something for your brothers, like we talked about."

I don't think I was old enough to actually do something out of spite, but the decision I made that day was filled with spiteful tendencies. I went with the sunglasses, and brought home $2 in change. The sunglasses stayed on my face for all of about five minutes. It was winter, mind you, and we lived in the Midwest.

When I went to bed that night, I couldn't sleep. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about the sunglasses. I knew I made the wrong decision when I made it. Left alone with my thoughts, my conscious got the best of me.

I remember, getting out of bed, walking into my parent's bedroom, and calling out to them. At that time, my parents were smokers, and they used to lay in bed and have one or two last cigarettes of the day before they went to sleep. They did this in the dark, so when I was in their room, all I saw was the orange-red flare from the tip of the cigarette and the glow on their faces.

"What do you want?" my dad said, irritated by my intrusion. The late night cigarette was their time, and I was interrupting.

"I can't sleep," I said. "I can't sleep because I spent all of my money on sunglasses. Sunglasses I won't wear because I don't think I like them."

My dad had a choice at that point too. He could either throw me an "I told you so" and make me feel worse than I already did. Or, he could sympathize with me, and try to make me feel better.

Parents don't always make the right choices. We learn that from childhood. Luckily, for me, my dad took me back to the drugstore the next day, and helped me practice generosity.