The Gift

I was a boy of twelve I think, give or take a year, it was winter not real cold, but the rainy Louisiana days could still put a chill in your bones. It was ‘gumbo weather’ my father use to say. The gray day felt like one big cloud low in the sky that went on forever. Outside the ground sunk beneath your feet as the rain saturated grass allowed the dark mud to ooze up and over each step taken. It was almost impossible to keep tinny shoes dry and I was at the age where I pretty much refused to wear anything else.

This evening we would have guest so I was in a hurry and wet shoes were of no concern. I sloshed about without a thought to the cold or the dampness. A few of my cousins were going to be coming over for an evening meal and I was looking forward to having company, if things went well someone might get to spend the night, and back then for a boy my age that was a real treat.

I had made sure all my chores were done, the animals were fed and there was nothing in the way of having a good evening. It was Daddy’s turn to ‘host’ the get together. There would be a huge gumbo, the adults would drink beer, and play a card game we pronounced ‘boo-ray’, If things went well they would play late into the evening, and possibly early morning, and the kids would be left to pretty much entertain themselves with their own games. We would have chips and soft drinks (a rarity in the house) and generally enjoy the evening.

The night had started out as expected with people arriving early, everyone in a good mood, the thick Cajun voices of my aunts and uncles shouting over each other to be heard. There was laughter and jokes along with the gentle kidding and poking fun that was the hallmark of our family get together. Our house seemed small in those moments with people reaching and stepping over each other to go here and there or get this and that. The smell of food and coffee waffled in the air. Falstaff and Schlitz beer cans perched on everything. A mixture of Cajun French and accented English bounced off the walls with the laughter of adults and children alike. The evening had begun and it promised to be one to remember

It was almost midnight when I journeyed into the ‘adult room’ where everyone sat drinking and playing cards. I can’t remember what I wanted, but if it was like other evenings like this one it was something in which most nights the answer would have been ‘no’. But, on nights like this, as most kids learned, anything was possible, and even crazy request occasionally got the nod of approval, if for no other reason but to get kids out from under foot.

When I entered the room it was the first time I had noticed my Uncle ‘Ameal’ had come this evening. He was a hard man with dark features and muscular frame, his face was scared, and his nose was flat and large from being broken in fights. He was a ‘union man’ my father would say with a wink and a nod, when I asked why he fought so much. He was someone who had been a strong arm for the ‘Unions’, and his reputation as an enforcer for elements not spoken of in polite society was well known. My father thought the world of him, but he had always scared me a little, even though I knew he was my uncle.

That evening he had been drinking and his words slurred, he was being insulting and loud. I could tell my mother was getting angry with his antics. Big and mean or not no one messed with Momma, and I knew by that look on her face she was about to let him know it. When He noticed me in the room he stopped aggravating my mother and he called out my name and told me to come over. I was taught to do as my elders have told, so, afraid or not I went over to him. He said “I missed your birthday” and then he pulled a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and gave it to me, the room got quiet.

I had never held that much money in my life; more or less have it given to me as gift. I looked at his face. His eyes were half closed and his words were slurring, he swayed back and forth in his chair. I felt guilty and a bit embarrassed for him; I thought he must have meant to give me a ten, (still a great and generous gift back then) and had given me a hundred instead. I could shove the money in my pocket and run I thought…but I couldn’t.

‘This is a hundred’ I said, ‘you must have thought it was a ten’ and I held out my hand for him to take it back.

He looked at me with those half opened eyes and shouted in a slurred Cajun accent ‘I know what I gave you boy. I gave you a hundred cause I wanted to”

I didn’t know what to say, the room was still quiet I could feel every one’s eyes on me including my fathers. I looked at him, but he said nothing, he gave no hint as to his opinion on the matter. I stood quiet for a moment,

My mind was racing, Uncle Ameal had been drinking, and even though there would have been plenty of grown up witnesses to say he gave the money to me, tomorrow he may not remember what he did with his money, and/or he will regret giving that much to a boy. Besides, I further reasoned, I couldn’t take the money from someone who was drinking that much, if I did it would ruin the birthday gift. I would feel guilty for taking advantage, the large bill felt jaded somehow. It just didn’t feel right.

“It’s too much” I told him.

Ameals eyes opened to their full size and his speech improved instantly, he stopped swaying drunkenly in his chair, and sat straighter, he looked at me in the eyes and he smiled a crooked smile.

“You are right boy it’s too much, and knowing that makes you one in a million. Whether it’s too much because I am drunk, or it’s too much because I am going to want something back from you later, you were smart in not accepting, remember anytime someone is giving you more then you should have there is always a catch” He reached back in his wallet and gave me a ten.

He wasn’t drunk at all; it had been a test, a test of my character, a test of my upbringing. I looked at my father, I could see in his eyes how proud he was of me, the rest of the table smiled and nodded, even though they said nothing to me directly I knew I had earned more than a hundred dollar bill could ever have given me. I had earned their respect. My uncle Joe started dealing cards, the room filled again with activity and laughter and I felt the room warm as everyone returned to the festivities. Not remembering why I had entered the room in the first place I exited the same way I came in. But, something changed in me that day that I will never forget, just as I will never forget the look of pride on my father’s face, and the knowing nod of my uncles and Aunts.

Uncle Ameal was a character, a man with many faults, and many secrets, but still, a strange wisdom moved through him like a wild wind. That night he was my favorite uncle, not because he had tested me and I had passed, but because in that simple charade he taught me more about people and myself then many will learn in a life time of lessons. Honor and integrity are precious gift that a man must first give to himself before he can share it with others; it is worth more than money and property. Give it to yourself and then hold on to its precepts and you will sleep the sleep of sages.