For Thursday, December 11, 1997 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 720 words

One Saturday morning

I stole $20 from my mother's purse. It was just before Christmas one year. I was about eight. I wanted to go shopping for my family and I didn't have any money. Logic didn't set in until I was about 9.

As children, my sisters and I got plenty of presents every year, but we were never expected to buy presents for each other, or anyone else. This was due to either an oversight in our upbringing, or a deliberate attempt to save money. Either way, we generally stayed home while the adults went Christmas shopping.

So there I was at home, dimeless, year after year, watching "Miracle on 34^th Street" and Red Skelton as Freddy the Freeloader out having great adventures Christmas shopping. The commercials augmented this joy of shopping with music and smiling faces. One holiday season I guess I just cracked. I snatched the money and ran.

However, I didn't get to spend it. Not one gift did it buy.

I heisted the loot early one Saturday morning while my mother was still asleep. By 6:30 a.m. I had my coat on and was headed downtown to go Christmas shopping. I was by myself. It was around zero degrees. The snow on the ground was thick. The sun hadn't quite come up yet.

So, I reached town, which was only three blocks away. There I stopped in my tracks. Every store was closed up tight. No one was out on the street. The wind blew waves of granular snow across the sidewalks. The sky was elephant gray. I inhaled through my nose and my nostrils stuck together.

What would I do now? I hadn't counted on the stores being closed. They had always been open before when I went into town. I decided to walk. I walked from one end of Ridgway to the other, up past the theater and down around the bowling alley. That took about 45 minutes. Then I was cold.

Back at the close end of town, I noticed that Don Davido's restaurant lights were on. He was a nice old man. His wife was nice, too. His nephew, Don, was our insurance man. Young Don sat often at our kitchen table.

I pulled on the restaurant's front door. It opened. I went in. I had never been in Mr. Davido's restaurant before. It was dark inside. Heavy curtains hung over the windows. The red vinyl booths looked gigantic. The lights were out. Don and his wife were in the kitchen, the only source of light.

I went over and quietly sat at a booth near the kitchen door. I was happy to be warm and it was a good 15-minutes before Mrs. Davido came out with a tray of glasses and discovered me. She immediately put her glasses down and came over. "My goodness, what are you doing here so early? Are you O.K.?"

"I'm O.K., " I said. "I was just cold."

She rubbed my hands. She rubbed my cheeks and ears. She patted me on the head. Then she called to her husband and met him out of earshot from me. Mr. Davido came over and sat down across from me. Mrs. Davido brought me a cup of hot chocolate, then went back into the kitchen. Don asked me what I was doing.

I answered him straight and simple. "I'm going Christmas shopping," I said. "I have twenty dollars." I pulled the bill out of my pocket and showed it off to him.

"Wow," he said. "That's a lot of money. Where'd you get all that money?"

"I…ah…I…ehh, well, I got it from…ehhh…I…Ooooo." I had never considered concocting an alibi. I just figured I'd go straight to the stores, buy a bunch of presents, and that would be that. I searched my puny mind for some prevarication, but found none. I couldn't lie to old Don. He was too nice. Finally, I blurted the only safe statement I could muster. "I got it from my mom, " I said.

About that time, I saw daylight behind me. I turned around, and there stood my mother. She was wearing boots without socks. Here coat was tied around her. Her face was still puffy with sleep. "Come on," she said.

She took me home and we had a long talk.