Life's Lessons Learned

Every now and then, I think back to some of the defining moments of my childhood, and some of the lessons my parents taught, or tried to teach me. Two incidents really stand out, each with its own distinct conclusion and meaning. Of course, as time heals all wounds, it also has a way of changing history, so maybe it didn’t really happen this way…

I was in the third or fourth grade, trying to find a way to fit in with the other kids. The youngest in my class, a bookworm with a birthday three days before the cutoff, and a middle child, I just didn’t have that rebel gene. But I wanted so desperately to be cool. Mom and Dad smoked and that seemed cool. I would soon find out how wrong I was. One day, as my mother was sending me off to school, she reached in to my coat pocket to insert money for the Scholastic books that I wanted to buy. To my horror and her dismay, when her hand emerged, it held one of her cigarettes and a book of matches. What ever divined her to reach in to that pocket at that time, I’ll never know or understand, but what happened next, I’ll never forget.

My father was still home, just about to leave for work. As the kitchen fell silent, he said, “Bob, when I get home, you and I are gonna sit down and have a smoke, man-to-man.” I remember my emotions, not of pride, but of shame and fear. I knew I was in big trouble, and figured I would be severely punished. I don’t know how I made it through the day, but I know I put the time to good use trying to think of all the angles possible to garner sympathy and understanding. A loose tooth managed to get a lot looser that day, and just before my father came home, it managed to “fall” out, and it was a bloody mess. No humane parent could mete out punishment to a child in that state, right? Wrong!!!

He gave me a little time to get myself together, then the family gathered in the kitchen. I was to be used as an example to my older brother and four younger siblings. Dad sat me down on a chair opposite his, and pulled out his pack of Pall Malls. This was not looking good – these were not on the same level as the mild, mentholated, filtered Salems that Mom smoked. Nevertheless, Dad was determined to, as he put it, “teach you to smoke like a man.” He lit one up for himself and drew it in deeply, slowly exhaling for effect. He then lit one up for me, and told me to do the same thing. It was hard to do, bawling as I was, but I had no choice – there was no way out of this. So I did as I was told, and choked and coughed like there would be no tomorrow. The lesson was learned, and I wouldn’t touch another cigarette until college, when the peer pressure overshadowed the lesson I’d learned so well.

The second incident occurred when I was about thirteen or fourteen. I had a newspaper route, with about twenty customers, a route that covered about a mile between Shrewsbury and Little Silver. Just off the route was the Little Silver railroad station, with its newspaper, magazine and candy stand. As a kid with a little bit of money, the lure of candy was strong. Eventually, though, the lure of the Playboy magazine on the rack behind the counter became too great to resist, and I bought a copy. I remember hiding it under my bed. One day, my mother confronted me in front of my father with the magazine she had found while cleaning my room. Again, I was horrified and ashamed. I was in big trouble!

This time, though, and I’ll never forget it, Dad said, “Bob, I don’t want you to be buying this kind of stuff and hiding it around the house. From now on, I’ll buy it and you can borrow it.” I think I can still hear the sound of two jaws simultaneously dropping to the floor, mine and my mother’s, but maybe she was complicit in this. There may have been a momentary elevation of my pride, but somehow the magazine never seemed the same after that, and my growth in maturity was instantaneous.

These two incidents are among many that helped shape me, and their impact was both profound and lasting. I recall them with humor and fondness, but most of all with the deep respect for two parents who taught me so much.