And seeing it again, after quite a long time, I remembered something I'd forgotten:
I STOLE this book from the school library when I was eight years old.
Yep. I admit it. I was a sticky-fingered little thief.
There were so many things I wanted, and so few that seemed within my reach. So on occasion, I pinched stuff.
The thefts I remember are as follows:
- The Make Your Own Creepy Spooky Horrors Book (shown)
- Ed Emberly's Big Purple Drawing Book
- A 10 cent Freezie from the local corner store (blue)
- At least one (but probably more) of those weird little flocked craft bears that were all the rage in the early 1980s.
I wanted this stuff, sure, but stealing it was about something more than want.
I think I felt that I was unfairly treated much of the time. Under-valued and less loved. And I stole because I thought that having stuff would make up for that. And I decided it was okay for me to steal -- little things in particular -- because I deserved them. I wasn't being given what I thought I was owed, so I was allowed to take. Simple.
Of course, I always felt horribly guilty, hid my thefts away and never got to enjoy any of them.
I didn't even eat that freezie. :(
Sometimes I wish I could meet my little self. It's kind of sad that I wanted those little bears and books and assorted other meaningless junk so very very much. Poor kid.