I don’t want to come across as self-absorbed by writing a snippet of memoir here, I can’t take myself that seriously.  But I’m going to write it anyway.  So I guess the question is: how can I justify rolling gleefully in the decadent pig-trough that is the subject of Me?  Ahh, screw it.  Here goes.

When I was about six years old, living with my mom and my sister in the foothills of the Cascade mountains in Oregon, I received my first lesson in karma.  I have a few other memories from that house too – whistling for the first time, eating toothpaste, eating huckleberries, the tire swing in the front yard – but my lesson in karma is what really sticks out.

I’d like to think I was generally a good-natured young fellow, but somehow I got an idea that reminds me of the way Dr. Seuss’s Grinch smiles: I decided that I would place a tack on the stairs, and that my sister would step on it.  In my defense, I’m confident she was being super-mean to me that day, and I must have been really angry because I remember thinking how glorious it would be when my devious plan came to fruition.

So I carefully placed a tack on one of the creaking wood steps and ran upstairs to whatever corner seemed like the most strategic hideout.  And there, with the attention span of a common housefly on crack-cocaine, I waited.  And I waited.  And waited…

The next thing I remember is mom calling my name.  I ran down the stairs and – KERPOW! – the tack I had placed there sunk full force into my heel.  Crying out, I gasped as a deep throbbing pain rattled the nerve endings in my foot.  I hopped to my mother, wailing.  She removed the object in question and gave me comfort I knew full well I didn’t deserve, a few drops of blood speckling the floor.

It is without pride that I report this fact: I didn’t tell the truth about how it really happened.  Not to mention the keen realization, even at the age of six, that I was without a doubt one of the stupidest children to ever breathe this planet’s air.  And that was my first big lesson in karma.

One Comment on “Karma

  1. Ha! As the sister – and I’m sure I was being super-mean all the time – I have no recollection of that event nor any others for the most part. I’m happy to hear you remember your childhood karma or not!


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