The RECORD HEIST of '67

I can’t tell you how many times Wry Bread readers have written to ask for more entertaining stories from my childhood.  No, I haven’t actually received any such notes yet, presumably because you readers haven’t gotten around to sending the many notes you’ve no doubt written.  I understand; it’s a busy time for you.

It just occurred to me that if you did send a note reading, “Please write more entertaining stories from your childhood,” what you might mean is, “The ones you’ve written are not sufficiently entertaining. Please write more entertaining stories.”

In any event, in an effort to satisfy your evidently insatiable appetite for entertainment, I shall now recount a previously untold story from my youth, which is about as close to childhood as my memory can get on most days.

One Saturday afternoon my high school friend Bill (you may recall him as the getaway driver for The Impossible Mission) wanted to buy an album.  As those of a certain age will know, the term album, in this context, refers to a round, flat, black, vinyl object that, subjected to the right conditions, would make music.  This was before we could ask Alexa to play any song anywhere at any time.  Back then, anyone named Alexa would have only hung out with cool guys named Clay, Chet or Luke, and we wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask her the time of day. 

To buy an album, we could have driven to Baer’s Music Store at the Winter Park Mall, the one with the huge Alaskan Brown Bear standing on his hind legs in the store window, 7 or 8 feet tall with front paws up and mouth frozen in mid-growl, frightening children and sensitive teens.  Baer’s was unique in that it had several soundproof booths in which you could actually listen to an album before deciding you had heard it so often that you didn’t need to buy it.  But Bill chose to go to a large discount department store in Casselberry, closer to home.  Picture a Wal-Mart or K-Mart, without the word mart in its name.  I don’t remember what album Bill wanted that day---a safe bet would be the latest release of the Stones, Beatles or Bob Dylan, but I distinctly remember the purchase transaction, or lack thereof.

With album in hand and trusty friend Rusty behind him, Bill got in line behind several other customers to make his purchase.  But after a few minutes, when it was his turn to pay, the cashier apologized and said it was time for her break; she was closing her register, and she asked us to choose another line.  It was years later when it dawned on me----that cashier’s name might have been Alexa.  Bill was mildly irritated, but he accepted this minor inconvenience without complaint, and we got in the back of another line.  Oddly enough, after standing in the second line for several minutes, something similar happened; the cashier said she had to close her register for some reason, and she walked away, leaving us to find another line.  (No, we hadn’t stepped in anything smelly on the way in, but thank you for your contribution).  That was when Bill, who could sometimes be dramatic, turned to me and said, with an indignant tone,

“Well, if they don’t want my money, I’m leaving!” 

You might be thinking:

Good for him. I can see how he could be so frustrated with such poor service that he might choose to take his business elsewhere.  True, it would inconvenience him to have to drive to another store for an album, and it might cause Rusty to have another bear nightmare, but it could be considered a noble cause.

You might be right in thinking that way, if Bill had returned that record to the shelf, or left it by the register before stomping out.  But the nobility of the cause is somewhat diminished when you understand that Bill, righteously indignant as he might have been, headed for the exit with the unpackaged, un-purchased album in hand. 

Rusty followed him out the doors, as Tweedle-dumb following Tweedledee. It occurred to me, as I did so, that removing items from stores without having paid for them was widely considered theft, and theft was generally frowned upon by both earthly and heavenly authorities.  But before I could catch up to Bill and reason with him, or before he had a few moments to think more clearly and decide to return the album on his own, a man exited the store, calling out to us, and identifying himself as Store Security.

It’s possible that one or two of you have never been halted by security personnel after walking out of a store with shoplifted merchandise.  Allow me to describe the feeling. It’s similar to the one you got playing backyard football when you were tackled hard and landed face-first, the ball and ground forcing the air out of your lungs. If you only played touch football, I can’t help you.

A few minutes later we were seated in a small room at the far back of the building, with the security officer and one or two other store personnel present.  Visions of a Juvenile Detention Center flashed before my eyes as Bill attempted to explain what possessed him to walk out the door with merchandise that had not been purchased.

“Insufficiently entertaining thus far,” you say?  Then the rest of the story will be told in the interactive style that became so popular for a few weeks several years ago.  In other words, you, the reader, can choose the ending you like best. That should keep you engaged for at least a few more paragraphs.

Ending 1)  We were kept in that room for 48 hours with nothing to eat or drink while we were mercilessly shown images of hungry Alaskan Brown Bears until we agreed to sign a confession.  We confessed not only to the record heist, but also to a couple of cold cases, namely, disturbing the peace of a quiet, up-scale neighborhood by ringing a rooftop bell late at night, and plotting to kidnap a Mall Santa (See The Impossible Mission----and see Rock City.)

Ending 2)  The Casselberry police were summoned, but Bill declined to speak to them without an attorney present. As it happened, she was from the firm of Alexa, Alexa and Chet, and when she arrived, she would not condescend to talk to us. Don’t choose this ending, because nothing much happens.

Ending 3)  Our parents were called.  My dad arrived first, and the store personnel explained the situation to him.  Here’s my best recollection of what Dad said:

Russy, what’s wrong with you?  Don’t you have the sense you were born with?  Were you raised in a barn?  I’ve told you and told you. Close the door; we’re not air-conditioning the neighborhood!  Money doesn’t grow on trees!  Who ran over the front sprinkler, and where are my keys?  Did anybody take out the trash?  Why don’t you people put my tools back?  Your room is a pigsty!  A cluttered desk bespeaks a cluttered mind!  It’s late, get to bed!  

At that point I was mercifully released on my own recognizance.  Anticipating that our adventure might have the makings of a story, I plucked up my courage and asked Alexa how to spell recognizance.  She just shrugged.

Ending 4)  Our version of the incident was corroborated by one of the employees, who said something like, “Yes, I saw them standing in line. That register closed, then they moved to another line and it happened again.” Thus it was determined that either we were the dumbest shoplifters in the state, or else we did not enter the store with the intention of stealing the album, and we only walked out with it in a misguided moment of frustration.  At that point we were warned of the seriousness of shoplifting, and the consequences that would result if we chose a life of crime, which, as I recall, included not only family disgrace and prison, but also a notation on our permanent records at Lyman High School. 

As I said, you may choose any ending to the story you wish, but you should know, in case you haven’t guessed, that endings one, two and three did not actually happen.

In our culture, those found guilty of theft are usually sentenced to prison, where for months or years they serve no useful purpose, and they’re likely to learn new criminal methods from fellow prisoners.  But when God established civil laws for His people, that is, when Israel was a theocracy, over 3000 years ago, thieves were required to labor to repay those from whom they stole.  For example, we read this in the Book of Exodus:

If a man steals an ox or a sheep, and slaughters it or sells it, he shall restore five oxen for an ox, and four sheep for a sheep.  (Exodus 22:1) 

Today, whether the thief is a young man who stole a car or a Wall Street broker who stole from his clients, doesn’t it make more sense to require a non-violent offender to work to repay those from whom he stole?  Who benefits from locking him away, at great expense to society, to spend five or ten unproductive years working in a prison kitchen or laundry room?  Man’s way is incarceration.  God’s way is restitution.  Not only does restitution benefit the victims of non-violent crime, it benefits the offender as well, as he begins to think of himself, no longer as a thief, but as one whose life is being redeemed, one who is atoning for his actions. And of course, it benefits the offender’s family to have him with them, instead of wasting away in a prison.

Of course, the greatest benefit that can come to any offender, whether his offense is theft, murder, sexual sin, or one of their less obvious cousins, covetousness, hatred, or lust, is to be redeemed eternally.  It is for him to recognize himself as a sinner, to see his sins as acts of heinous rebellion against his Creator, to turn from them in sorrow, and to lay hold upon Christ by faith. That is, to transfer his trust from himself to Jesus. 

Lord Jesus, you lived a sinless life.  I have not.  You went to the cross as the Lamb of God, atoning for sin, paying the debt for all those who trust in you.  Forgive me, and save me.  I believe you are the Son of God, who came to give His life “a ransom for many.”  Have mercy upon me.

If you pray such a prayer, and mean it in your heart, you can be confident that you will be forgiven and redeemed, because Jesus was quite clear:

…God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved. He who believes in Him is not condemned... (John 3:17-18)

The earthly authorities in that department store had mercy upon Bill and me.  Your heavenly authority is offering mercy to you.  If you still lack the faith to believe that, I would urge you to read God’s Word, for that Word has the power to engender faith in your heart. You might start with the Gospel of John.  Setting aside just five or ten minutes a day, you can read it all within a few weeks. Surely a matter of such importance is worthy of at least a few minutes of your time each day. If you learn better by listening, you might want to download a free Bible app, which may include an audio version.  Of course, assuming you are on speaking terms, you could always try saying, “Alexa, read the Gospel of John to me.”

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