I have a deeply ingrained sense of right and wrong.  This doesn’t mean my feelings of right and wrong are always in line with the rest of the world, just that my own personal Jiminy Cricket is always running his mouth.

I’m sure this was instilled by the True Southern Lady.  She never swore or used “ugly” language.  This is why I feel a mild sensation of a ghostly switch across my bottom when I do.  I feel this a lot.  I need to cut back on that.  I do not feel guilty for speeding.  I love to drive and love to do it fast.  I think there are many, very many, TONS of rules out there that need to be broken.  We have become a society of people who just stand in line and follow rules.

I’ve never stolen anything that has caused me to feel guilty, except once.  Oh, I’ve switched around the baby Jesuses (is this the plural for Jesus?) from people’s manger scenes from time to time in my past.  There’s nothing wrong with a little biraciality when it comes to Christmas and everyone ended up with a Jesus so I didn’t feel guilty about that.  I have, on occasion, come home with little expresso spoons, eh, and maybe a cup or two, from fancy restaurants.  I don’t know how this happens but the Goose watches me like a hawk while paying the bill now.  Perhaps I have an allergic reaction to their wine and the restaurants are, indeed, to blame.

The terrible theft that caused me heartache, though, occurred in my hometown of Tucker, GA.  I was with a boy, probably not behaving, when the thought formed in our brains that we MUST be on top of the old drug store on main street.  Shimmying up a drainpipe, I achieved this goal and then, for reasons not remembered, I plucked a 40 pound goose perched upon the sign there.  Not a real one, but a giant likeness of one. I then carted it back down and took it home.  During the night, the flush of the heist wore off.  I started to feel guilty, really guilty.  I couldn’t sleep.  Was this goose someone’s special goose?  Was it a family heirloom?  The next morning, I arose and took $25, and left it on the store’s doorstep, along with the kidnapped goose.  Years later, I saw that the store had moved across the street and the goose was now enshrined in a glorious victorian window.  Probably to guard from hellions like me, whose father had to once return 23 traffic cones, of varying colors and heights, and a “no parking” sign back to the Dekalb County DOT one Saturday.

That was wrong.  But I feel, that if one were to take a nail or something sharp, and jam it under the tires of a hunter’s truck while he’s out killing, that wouldn’t be wrong, although MY Goose could not know about it or he would lock me away.  Seeing a dog tied up on a rope, outside in all weather is good reason to participate in a canine jail break.  Also, although I feel lying is wrong in almost any situation, telling one’s husband that their young child ran into the side of the car with his bike to keep from having to explain the real story probably falls into a gray area.  A very light gray area.  One more thing, in telling someone the truth about their outfit, the only thing acceptable to say to anyone about their looks, the ONLY thing, is, “aww, you look cute!”.

What is wrong out there is not being a friend, not being polite and respectful and just not caring when someone’s hurting, not listening when someone tries to explain what’s going on.  The one thing I always hope I’m doing right is being a friend.  Now, I might be the friend who bails you out, but more than likely, I’ll be the one, sitting beside you, sharing my lipstick so we’ll look good in our mug shots.

What would be really good is if everyone stopped worrying over these ridiculous little rules of right and wrong,  no toy guns, no gum in school, no running in the halls, no shouting, no impolitically correct terms, and started worrying about doing something NICE.  For my New Year’s resolution, I’m going to go out of my way to do something nice for someone every day.  At least I can offer them a lovely little cup of espresso.