A spoon theifs confession

I am an avid spoon thief.
Spoons are the only thing that I steel.
I don't go after jewel encrusted or platinum spoons, so i will likely remain a misdemeaner spoon thief.

Here is the history:
I was a strange kid. In my own defence, i was jerked around a lot. I was thought to be mentally handicapped until 3rd grade, due to poor testing performance.

On my end, I remember being curious why the students sat in a sort of audience, because I just saw a blob moving back and forth at the front of the room, and heard clicking and scritching noises along with the speaking. My eyes were finally found to be extremely nearsighted. I was given glasses, and was soon moved to all advanced classes.

Now the blob was writing on a chalkboard, and the sound track was, of course, the same. The sense of sight was very cool, and I became fascinated with photography. I had a hunger to see things, and to collect those sights for later viewing.

To set the stage, I was an undersized nerd child, toting around a Minolta SLR, and taking over the school newspaper, the yearbook, the av department...

Even though my family owns a printing company on 6th avenue in NYC, I decide that it is alright for me to actually steal items of any value from stores. Here is the funniest part... I was a shoplifter with a very strict code of behavior. I only stole photography materials, and I distributed the impact of my thefts over time and throughout dozens of stores.

I always bought items as well. My favorite technique was to arrive in the store with a shopping bag containing a down jacket. I would put on the jacket, and wait through the checkout line with the bag stuffed with purloined goods. I had two or three partners, and together, we could succeed in stores with elaborate mirrors and  security.

I also sold photographs, won cash prizes in contests and received large grants to create displays . So, I had a way to 'launder' my illegal gains. I built a darkroom in my parents basement. I was 14, and I learned how to frame a wall, hang Sheetrock, wire sound, wire 120 volt electricity and do plumbing. I already knew that I was a busy monkey, and that keeping a really big project going was a way to beat the blues.

I reach the age of 16 in this way. I start doing commercial artwork for my families print shop, and they start issueing me large checks! But, I can no longer stand to live in a densely populated area. It seems that I had started to sense other peoples thoughts, and that makes it pretty difficult to concentrate.

I run away from home. Not like a young kid, with the classic bag lunch on a stick. I use my wealth to purchase a motorcycle, and forge some documents so that it can wear a legal license plate even though I only have a New York learners permit for driving.

I ride west into the sunset, having all sorts of adventures. I encounter hunger for food for the first time. Wow! No parents to provide food! If I could not be penned up by those adults, I would have to learn how to provide myself with food. Luckily, i had my shoplifting background. As long as I had could work enough to have any money, there was no temptation. but when my belly roared, i saw grocery stores as an extension of my mothers pantry. If I was cold, a clothing store could be my wardrobe away from home. My strict code now protected me from over consumption. I had no greed, because the world was like a giant free yard sale for me. I helped myself to the exact items that I needed to survive.

Enter the season of Winter. Holy moly.... I had forgotten that one needed a warm house sometimes! How could I socially engineer a free house? I did not figure that out, and the cold pressed me south to the Palm Springs area of California.

I set up camp in an isolated side canyon above the Springs, and decided to try a fruit fast. That worked well, as I could pick as much as I wanted from the yards in town. Another group set up camp in 'my canyon'. We started to visit, and I found out that they were a criminal gang that actually included violence in their efforts. They felt that they were beyond redemption, and just spoke plainly about their exploits.

As a sheltered Long Island adolencent, I had never actually met a hold up enthusiast or murderer before. I did not feel any personal danger, but instead, that the gang would protect my safety avidly. I was not as secure about my stuff. I went out to gather a backpack full of fruit. I stepped outside of my own stingent rules, and stole some tiny item that was not really needed to survive. I was not astounded to find my equipment gone upon my return to camp.

The gang had made it pretty clear that they lived to aquire. I then made a permanent connection between the act of stealing, and the feeling of being stolen from. It was an accident, but it was very effective. I would actually try this technique with a child. 

From this exact moment on, my attitude toward stealing changed completely. I saw that the universe actually had a very finely tuned system to keep track of karma. It was an automated system, and there was no way to beat it. If you were helpful to others, you would never be allowed to starve. If you took their things, all bets were off.

It was very freeing. Any greed that I had melted away. You could not gain things that the universe did not mean you to have. So, there was no need to spend time mooning over all that stuff. You could just enjoy the matter that the universe gave to you.

The gang had left the valley, but my next guest was a very wealthy gay gentleman that lived nearby. He observed my quite naked form, and was motivated to approach me and to offer a deal. Would I please pose as his lover, in exchange for lavish room and board? I would take my drivers license test with a sports car worth part of a million dollars, and have whatever the hell i wanted in my very own building.

He was a great guy. I explained that I was 16 and seemed to be heterosexual. So, it seemed absurd to fake a relationship with an older man just to get the use of a sports car. It was a complicated deal, because he did not desire sex at all. He needed to make other wealthy males jealous of him.

We agreed to just be friends. He was very gracious about it, and offered to replace some of my stolen backpacking equipment so that I could begin to hike the Pacific Crest Trail in the spring. I declined that too, but agreed to a dinner at my place for few days hence.

When our dinner time arrived, I was surprised to see a limo pull up nearby. My friend was supported by a staff! They carried dishes on fancy silver, and set us up a picnic along the side of a small stream. It was absurd but great. I still remember some of the subjects that we discussed.

I found out that my friend had devised a plan to leave the remains of our feast behind, as a sort of sneaky gift. I declined all but a Stirling silver spoon and an amazing long woolen blanket. These items were to accompany me on a very unusual hike of the Pacific Crest Trail.

I can go into the hike another time, but this seems to be the start of my rampant and wanton spoonthievery. You may already know that heaps of money are not tempting to me. Tools and guns and very valuable things can be loaned to me, because I always return them. But, you should maybe check your spoon drawer if I have stayed at your house. Are you missing spoons?

*** note. I am only attracted to table spoons and small serving spoons. I can not be blamed for the loss of teaspoons. Look around under and behind things to recover your tiny spoons.