June 17, 2001

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  Death, miscommunication and now today's journal on the topic of a Bribe!  Whoa!   You guys are going to have the idea that I'm a real downer.  To get my topic I opened the dictionary and wrote for ten minutes on the word my finger touched first.  Tomorrow I'll pick a happier dictionary. 

  
  

  Bribe: I was ten years old the last time I accepted a bribe. Exactly ten years old. It was my birthday. Mom and Dad invited my grandparents to come over for ice cream and cake. I was very full of myself that day, feeling special because I was now into double digits. Ten, that’s almost a teenager, and you know that’s just almost a grow-up. Ten years old.

  
  

  When my grandfather came in, he was leaning on his cane. He walked slowly and carefully to maintain his balance because the slick paper on the present he carried made it difficult to grasp. If he dropped the present that could be enough to upset his balance and he’d fall.

  
  

  My grandmother followed him closely. She also carried a carefully wrapped package, and she was moving slowly so that if Grandpa had trouble she could help him. I ran to them and gave them big hugs and kisses. I greedily tore in to the packages and hugged them a second time for the presents.

  
  

  Finally, my great grandmother made her way through the door. In 1973 she would have been over 90 years old. She was unattractive even in her youth and at age 90 she could frighten grown men. She had a huge goiter on her neck from an iodine deficiency in her youth. Her face was scarred from multiple skin cancers that the doctors must have removed with a blowtorch. And her legs were constantly black and blue because her brittle skin couldn’t withstand any contact.

  
  

  I sat on the floor amid the bright wrapping papers and waved "hello" to the old woman. She entered the room cane first and made her way to the chair next to the table. She always sat next to the dining table so that she could use it for extra support to get up and down.

  
  

  I didn’t hug or kiss her. I waited. I felt that I was so important on my tenth birthday that my hugs and kisses were not available to just anyone. I didn’t say anything and as far as I know I didn’t do anything to reveal my new found self-importance, but I’ve never been accused of subtlety so I’m sure that it was obvious to the adults.

  Grandma placed her pocketbook on the table. A huge black purse that looked like an old fashioned medical bag. She opened the snap at the top and slowly reached inside. She fished around for a minute and pulled out a quarter. She held it out to me. "Happy birthday." I felt my face flush hot.

  
  

  At that moment I earned my place in the adult world. I knew that I had set my price at twenty-five cents.

  
  

  • 2:31 pm
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