10/09/98

The Perfume Caper

When I was little, my curiosity was forever getting me into trouble. One time, while over at a neighbor's house, I noticed several colored glass bottles lined up by the sink in their bathroom. They were exquisite bottles in different shapes and sizes, one pearly green, another sapphire, and one with a delicate, tapered cap like a church spire. Unable to suppress my curiosity, I picked up a tiny, luminescent pink bottle by its thick oblong top. Just as I brought it over my lap, the bottom part fell and amber liquid splashed on me, its sweet, floral scent filling the air.

Puzzled, I looked at the glass stopper in my hand. I had never seen a non twist-off cap before. As I retrieved the empty bottle (thankfully unbroken) and gently replaced the stopper, I felt my heart begin to pound.

"This must be expensive perfume," I thought, "Like the ones from Paris that cost $50.00 an ounce."

I was too scared to admit I spilled it. I put the bottle back on the vanity, raced home, took off my skirt, and threw it down the laundry chute, hoping against hope that my dilemma would evaporate with the perfume. No such luck.

The neighbor called my mother and told her what had happened. When Mom confronted me, I denied it. Mom insisted I go get the clothes I had been wearing, so I ran downstairs, grabbed the skirt, took it upstairs to my parent's bedroom, and doused it with some of my mother's cologne. I then took the skirt to her to prove it was her perfume I had spilled on my clothes, not the neighbors'!

She didn't call me a liar. She just listened, and that was that -- or so I thought. I didn't hear another word about it until some 30 years later, when I asked my dad if he remembered the incident. He did. He told me that he and my mother had talked it over and decided to tell the neighbor, within earshot of me, that I had denied spilling it. (I don't remember hearing them do that). They felt that they should back me up, rather than embarrass me more than I had already embarrassed myself. They wanted my guilt to teach me a lesson.

It certainly did. I felt terrible about it for years, and I still do. In retrospect, I wish my parents had asked me to replace the perfume, either by working hard to earn the money, or by doing chores for the neighbor until she was satisfied I had paid her back. With no solution, I was left with the shame and no way to redeem myself.

Intense childhood experiences like these shape our adult values. As a mother, I've worked hard to instill the value of honesty in my children. They have learned to own up to their mistakes and openly "pay" for them.

My husband applied similar principles as a high school principal. He divised some imaginative punishments that taught students a great deal about personal responsibility. Vandalism, for example, was punishable by janitor duty. The result? The cleanest school windows and bathrooms in the state! His students learned important lessons when held accountable for their actions.

To make a broader point, I think that anyone who commits a crime against society should be required to compensate for the crime. Although there are some crimes for which there is no redeeming penalty other than permanent loss of freedom, such as first degree murder, there are many others for which incarceration accomplishes little or nothing. Why not require an arsonist, for example, to haul away the charred timbers and restore the burned property? Perhaps he or she would internalize some constructive values in the process and, therefore, act differently in the future.

How I wish I could have stuffed the perfume back into that bottle. To this day, when I go by that neighbor's house, I feel a twinge of guilt for lying to her. Some good came out of it, I suppose. She probably used my cowardly behavior as an object lesson to her kids for years. Little does she know that my insatiable curiosity survived intact. But now when it gets me into trouble, I admit it!

Please send questions or comments to bbruno@snet.net.