Lessons Unlearned
Hi, everyone. Fate here again to prove that you can teach old gods new tricks, not that, for legal purposes, I confess in any way to thinking of myself as a god. But to prove to my lawyer and the plaintiffs that I am capable of learning, I’m gonna apply a bit of knowledge that I overheard: that I can now read letters on the computer!
Fate,
We raised our son right. We sent him to the best school in the state, made sure he did his homework, limited his TV time, took him to church and Sunday school every week, only let him go out on certain days for certain occasions, and disciplined him for any transgressions.
He still fell in with a bad crowd in high school and started talking back, sneaking out, and doing drugs. He finished high school, but barely (we threatened to kick him out as soon as he turned 18 if he didn’t) and refused to do so much as take classes in community college until he could get his head on straight and go to an Ivy League school like we know he’s capable of.
He moved out and stayed with his friends and started shoplifting to support his drug habit. The first time he got caught, his father and I worked out a deal with the prosecutor where he would do community service, attend rehab, and be strictly monitored within our home, and then all evidence of the crime would be expunged from his record. The second time he got caught was just before he finished community service. We made him sell his car so he would be unable to go anywhere without us knowing about it, worked out a deal where he’d do more community service, would have to wear an ankle monitor, and would plead down to a misdemeanor.
As soon as he was no longer on probation and turned in the ankle monitor, he vanished. We didn’t hear from him again until he got arrested across state lines for selling marijuana he’d bought in a state where it was legal in a state where it wasn’t. We again worked out a deal to keep the charges on the state level (transporting the marijuana is a federal crime) and have him serve a reduced sentence, then come home and serve out more community service with us.
He seemed genuinely remorseful about this, but as soon as this round of parole was up, he was back out of our house and out with his old friends. We didn’t know about this, of course. He was merely pretending to be the Prodigal Son he’d read about when he was a sweet little boy. All his acts of coming over to dinner and talking nicely with his dad and me were covers so he could get a full meal and steal our valuables when we were otherwise busy. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t gone looking for a necklace of my own one morning and discovered his grandmother’s wedding ring, which I’d hidden carefully, was gone. Then my husband went through his tools and found some of those were missing, too.
We didn’t call the police. We did bar him from our home. We didn’t hear from him for six months. He finally came to us, penitent as could be, talking about how he was going to get back what he stole and pay us for what he couldn’t track down. We broke down and told him all was forgiven as long as he intended to do right by us, himself, and the community from here on, and he agreed.
We went on a vacation to the mountains together, a trip we’d taken several times when he was a boy, to celebrate. The first night was lovely. The second night, he kept drinking and ordering more, even after we told him to stop. My husband had enough and grabbed our son’s last drink out of his hands. My son grabbed it back, threw it in his father’s face, and stormed off…with our car keys. By the time we caught up to him, he had gotten in the car and driven away. It’s a miracle he made it over those icy passes and back home, but somehow he did. We had to fly home, an expense we thought we’d easily be able to afford at this point in our lives.
Fate…you could have intervened. As much as I wouldn’t want my son to have any more legal troubles, if he’d gotten pulled over and arrested as he was fleeing the mountains that night, he would’ve been in a world of trouble after everything else that’s on his record. He needs to learn. Why can’t you help him learn?
Some people are simply incapable of learning, my friend. And typically, there’s someone they learned that incapability from.
…It was nice having my hands free, but I’m not sure that having the letter on the computer was all that much of a revolution.
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