When school began, I approached a boy and asked him if he watched the previous night’s Simpsons. He replied, “No, I was too busy downloading porn.” Now, I should have taken the comment as a simple attempt at humor or honesty, but instead I related the incident to everyone on a semi-regular basis. In retrospect, I’d say that my behavior was inappropriate. By attempting his joke, the boy might have hoped to gain a friend. By retelling the event, I hoped to gain the laughter of a stranger at the expense of another. I planted the seeds of prejudice, the very act I feared others would perpetrate against myself.
Now, however, I recognize the error of my ways. For a long time, I lived in fear of the misdeeds of my past being used to judge me negatively in the present, which is why it is with great trepidation that I will relate the following story. Sometime in the third grade several rabbits wandered into my yard. I named them Bugs, Daffy, and Porky. Bugs was my favorite. I spent countless hours watching him from afar, edging closely with the hope of feeding him a carrot, which he eventually learned to eat from my hand. Then, one day, Bugs disappeared and never returned. Jokingly I’d say, “My neighbor caught him and fed him to his snake. He was 32. The neighbor, not the rabbit.” In reality, I sprayed Bugs with a hose for no good reason. I made Bugs leave! I truly was some kind of monster in my youth. I can only hope that I have the strength to never repeat my mistakes and spray the things I love with a hose.
