“The first day of the rest of your life,” is usually when you decide to start living how YOU want to, as a changed, new person. Usually a positive change. However, for some of us, it’s the day where we begin to go crazy. For me it was the latter.
Setting
Date: Wednesday, July 26, 2017
TIme: Approximately 8:30 pm
Location: Autumn Park Apartment Complex parking lot
On a beautiful Wednesday evening our favorite 24 year old (me) was carrying his laundry down from Room 313 (still saying forget the free world) to his Honda Accord parked outside the first floor. (I shouldn’t need to preface where the vehicle is parked. I think it’s implied that it’s on the first floor. There are no floating parking spots where I could comfortably park on the third floor.) As I (switching to first person) throw my laundry basket into the passenger seat and make my way around to the drivers side, something catches my eye. It wasn’t shiny like diamond or gold, but equally as valuable. A piece of beef jerky. A perfectly good piece of beef jerky. Yes it had a bite taken out of it, but no one’s perfect. I mean even Steph Curry misses a free throw every once in a while.
Now it had been instilled in my mind at a young age that beef jerky was a valuable item and not something you waste. (Please read about my traumatic third grade experience.) So my first thought is “This beef jerky deserves better, and I need to honor it by consuming it.” After my primal instincts died down, I was able to think more rationally like the college educated man that I am, so my second thought was “No good story ever starts with, ‘So I didn’t eat this piece of beef jerky that was lying on the ground.’ It’s dried meat. It’s clean, just dust it off, and it will be fine.” And finally, the totally depraved Dutch boy in me came through, and I had my final thought of “Where is my life going that I’m contemplating eating ground jerky?”
After much thought and bargaining, I made a deal with myself/God. The good Lord put this jerky here for me to either eat or to test me. So, the deal I made was if this beef jerky was still there when I got back, it was a sign that I should eat it, and if it’s not, it wasn’t meant to be.
I leave it laying there and drive off. I start to feel like Daniel Day Lewis screaming out “I’VE ABANDONED MY CHILD.” I try to forget about it, but it’s still in the back of my head. I get to the laundromat, aka my mothers house. (Eric, you are 24 years old and your mom still does your laundry? Bro, if you knew the age when my mom stopped doing my laundry, you’d never talk to me again.) I drop off my laundry and stay to chit chat with Gail and the Colonel. We’re talking and having a good time, but the thought of that beef jerky is consuming me. I find an excuse to leave so I can go back to see if my baby is still there.
I normally am a very cautious and calm driver. I go the speed limit in town because usually where I’m going isn’t worth speeding. However, on this occasion I was going 5 over everywhere just to hurry back, hoping I would get the jerky before someone less deserving. As I drove past Yankton Trail Soccer Complex, my mouth was salivating. Nothing in my life had mattered up to this point and nothing would matter afterwards. The beef jerky was everything.
As I pulled into the apartment complex, my heart was overjoyed to see that my original parking spot was still open. I pulled into the spot and opened my door, and there next to me was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, a piece of beef jerky. Then for the first time, I picked up the jerky and thought to myself, “So we’re really gonna do this, huh?” The answer was, “Yes,” as I looked around to make sure no one was watching the sick freak pick up the ground jerky. The coast was clear, so I brushed it off and placed it gently in my pocket and quietly went up to the third floor.
There was still time to back out, but you and I both know that wasn’t going to happen. The only thing potentially in the way of me and my precious salty snack was a conversation with the roommate. As I opened the door, there was no John to be found, so I went to my room and pulled out my meat (the beef jerky, you sick freak). I didn’t hesitate, and took a bite out of the unbitten end. It was delicious! I almost ate the whole thing, leaving only the last inch from the previous owner’s bite mark.
This isn’t a ‘and he lived happily ever after’ story. There was shame in what I did. I’m not proud, but it happened. I wrote 4 pages in my journal that night pondering where my life was going. In the span of 45 minutes, I had been tempted, fallen in love, and lost. (What I lost I’ll leave open to speculation. You’ll have to figure out the author’s original intent.) We can’t change who we are or what we’ve done, we can only continue to grow and live our best lives. Time marches on.
bteamballer 