Ice Cream ,a moral Question August 26, 2024 679 words

Growing up in my small town of Northville, we had several opportunities to get ice cream treats delivered to our street. There were two dairies that delivered delights of chocolate covered ice cream on a stick along with milk, butter and heavy cream. The cream was floating on the top of each bottle of milk. My mother would skim the cream and use it in coffee. Twin Pines Dairy and Guernsey Dairy delivered to homes two to three times a week. They picked up the empties and left several gallons of whole milk in the metal rack. But in the summer, we were attuned to the music of the Good Humor truck as it slowly made it’s way through of the town. Exotic confections of chocolate chip cookie sandwiches, orange flavored candy covered bars and ice cream drumsticks with chocolate and nuts toppings. They were more expensive than we could afford for a family of seven. I would watch as others would select and gobble down the cold treats.
One sweltering summer day, I succumbed to temptation. While my mother was in the back yard taking a sun bath, I opened my mothers purse and helped myself to a bill. I was too young to look at the amount but I think it was a five dollar bill. Leaving the house by the front door, I made my way to the corner where the ice cream truck waited. I am sure the neighbors tattled to my mother even as I sat on the corner eating my stolen booty. I had change from the transaction, having no pockets, I dropped the coins inside my top. It had a elastic bottom so the coins wouldn’t fall out.
I went to the front door to put back the change, but the door was locked. Sneaking to the back yard, my mom appeared to be asleep on the lounge. I ran for the door with coins clinking in my blouse.
“Carol Ann Turnbull, come here!”
We all knew that when our complete name was used, we were in trouble. I turned to face the music and Mom. Standing beside the chair, I tried to keep quiet. In one quick movement, my mother grabbed the edge of my top. elastic was stretched causing coins to scatter on the grass.
“Where did you get the money?”
I knew it would be worse if I lied so I confessed.
“From your purse,”
“For what?”
“Ice cream”
I am sure I was punished but my moral dilemma came years later. As a Catholic, we make our first confession in the second grade. I poured over the Boston Catechism . To see if the taking of money was a Venial sin or a Mortal sin. The Boston guidelines stated that during confession if a person forgot to confess a venial sin, they could still be granted absolution. But a mortal sin must be confessed before forgiveness could be given. “Did I steal a 5 or a one dollar bill?” An amount under 5 dollars was a venial sin. “Did putting the change back decreased my sin?”
I tried to forget the incident but every time I went into the confessional, I imagined the sins piling up as sins of omission. Since each class went to confession weekly, The sins were piling up!
I couldn’t take the stress. At the end of one confession, I whispered,”I am sorry for these sins and especially those against the eight commandment.”Father listened and granted absolution . I was off the hook!
**. Poem
absolution
Kneeling in the confessional, I sweated
an old sin weighted on my conscience
taking a bill from my mother’s purse
I had told Mom and been punished
But telling Father?
I tried to find a loophole
amount of money?
I didn’t remember
Could I forget the sin, no way
Finally at the end of my recitation of current transgression
I whispered
“I am sorry for these sins and those of stealing.
Father unknowingly gave the blessing for absolution.
I was off the hook.
carolaspot@aol.com copyrighted 8/26/24