a theft not so simple

‘I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet love knows, it is a greater grief
To bear love’s wrong, than hate’s known woes.’

Thievery may be easy enough for the inclined. The difficulties begin when you must no longer be a thief. Like when the fifteen cop cars and three kennels full of dogs show up. Right then, being a thief is no longer an option. Now you have to be an innocent. It’s the transition that will get to you eventually. Innocent to a thief, thief to an innocent. It wears you down.

I am choosing the life of an innocent, or attempting to at any rate…don’t look too closely at my taxes this year Mr. Auditor! Some habits die hard. This is the beginning as I know it.

I don’t for sure remember the first time I stole something. Perhaps it was in montesauri, we had a small basket of legos, and one of the most prized pieces was a little lego flag. This was a ways before you saw the ‘designer’ legos show up with pirate or spaceship themes. Legos were basic and didn’t have lots of variety. I, being perhaps 4 years old, intended to steal that little plastic lego flag. I wanted it, was drawn to it perhaps. I planned it out beforehand, vaguely remember executing my plans and depositing it in my 4 year old jeans pocket, and much more strongly…I remember the fear afterwards.

I felt like a refugee…my teachers were transformed in hulking demons and the other children were yipping imps just waiting for the chance to screech out my transgression. With time…it faded away from memory and it only crossed my mind in the deepest of moments before drifting off to sleep.

For a long time, ten or twelve years, I don’t think I stole. I just didn’t. I spent a lot of time reading, playing outside, and going to school. I liked money, but I never felt like I needed it. My parents gave me some allowance, a couple dollars a week in exchange for chores, and so if I wanted toys or books, a little time spent saving up and I could go get them.

I’m not exactly sure when it began to come back…but it swept me up full force by the end of high school. Joey and I were filling up my car late one night, and we were standing in front of the register paying the woman who looked like she was about to pass out. Something struck me…and I followed up quickly. I slid a chocolate bar up my sleeve as she made change. Joey and I left and got back into the car. We sat there for a second, and then I tossed it into his lap. A light came upon us as we looked at each other for a moment…and we spent the next six months practicing our rampant thievery, large and small.

We were nice kids…didn’t like to hurt people, and usually felt inclined to protect the underdogs. It was out quite obvious to us that we weren’t interested in stealing from people. We wanted to steal from companies, and we did. A lot.

‘Tis bad enough in man or woman To steal a goose from off a common; But surely he’s without excuse Who steals a common from the goose.’

Those days it wasn’t about money, we looked upon it as honing our ’skills’. It was fun and exciting to be able to fend for yourself, eat, and acquire things without paying for them. Not that we had any money anyway.

I sewed a large pocket into the inside of my coat, and Joey and I ate like kings every day. We stole god only knows what…but I remember cigars, magazines, kiwis, energy bars, expensive cheeses, crackers, bread, trinkets, makeup, perfume, oils, playing cards, dish soap… anything that wasn’t tied down, useful or not, provided that the retailer wasn’t something we interpreted as a ‘human venture’. Every day, two, five, ten times a day. We stole everything a couple of 16 year old middle-class boys could imagine stealing. This went on for what seemed to be a long time…eventually I became bored, and after I moved to Montana to live with my father, my perceptions of thievery started to shift as I realized how shitty it was to work a minimum wage job in retail. This is a whole story upon itself and I’ll post it here when it’s finished.

In the meanwhile…How do you feel about thieves? Have you ever had anything stolen from you? What about stealing something yourself? What did you steal…how? And how did it make you feel? Do you think there is a difference in physical/intentional theft and opportunism? Have any good thief stories, quotes or picture? Please share them with us!