We Want Peace, but the Dismal Science of Power and Economics Rears its Ugly Head too Much

    It is hard to be selfless, share, and let all people have enough of what they want. Simple money issues are often not that simple, on small or large scales. We all battle daily, weekly, and yearly to grab out financial pieces of the pie.

    In third grade a person questioned my truthfulness, and I let them put their money where their mouth was, because I knew the truth was on my side. I wagered a dollar. My mom did, in fact, bring cupcakes on my birthday, and we shook on, agreed, upon one buck as the bet.

    I believed in the truth, and integrity, all that jazz, but my friend who lost the bet had buyer/gambler's remorse. However, deal is a deal. She did not pay. Days passed by. Then weeks. Then months, and into another season. Or two.

    I followed her on her way home to get the payment. She offered gum, now that I recall, but I refused.

    One dollar.

    Two of her group (a specific ethnic class, one might say), who were older fifth grades, meddled in the affair of me finally requiring the payment, and they had the effrontery to tell me that our deal was not valid. Not right. 

    They, as I realize now, questioned my truthfulness, my integrity.

    Enough! I kicked one of them in the leg, and he fell to the ground at the school grounds. They were bigger, and they proceeded to chase me all across the field and adjoining playground. I finally gave up, and told them I acceded. Not worth me fighting over or me getting beat up.

    My friend, who lost the bet and would not pay (a half pint of milk was like 12 or 15 cents back then, for some perspective), although perhaps it had hit a quarter in those years, whatever. Four, or six or so school lunch milks-worth of value.

    Who lost, in the end? Trust, integrity, my faith in a bet that I normally knew not to make. My friend learned some lessons about me, I suppose.

    Later, a woman ripped me off for fifty dollars worth of service and product. She claimed poverty during a divorce. Yeah, right. She had a nice house. I would have divorced her, too. She was ugly and piggish, as I recall.

    I should have had my mom appraise one of her pieces in the front hallway, as she had many.

    Anyway.

    Small stories go bigger, and that is when we have real conflicts. Millions of victims later.