It Was a Snickers

It Was a Snickers

                                                           “Every man’s conscience is a thousand swords."

                                                                                   -William Shakespeare, Richard III

Quiet evenings in the screened-in porch gave Marvin plenty of time to think, to look back on the entirety of his life as he drifted through his twilight years. His wife died 8 years ago, and his son, Carl, moved out of state, leaving Marvin alone with his thoughts. The porch, the setting sun, and the solitude presented a perfect petri dish for reflection.

Marvin was a good man by any measure. He was a good husband, a good father, a good friend, and a good employee. He was an exceptionally honest man who had never committed a serious breach of ethics in his life…except for that one time.

Many serene sunsets had been disrupted by the nagging memory of that single regrettable moment. It was the forty-sous piece Jean Valjean took from Petit Gervais, taking something desirable that promised an improved condition, if even for a moment, but bringing only anguish. The act was again playing in his head this particular evening. He saw it all as clearly as if it happened yesterday.

---

Fifth grade, St. Charles Catholic school. Most every grade school class has a bully. It is unusual, however, for a girl to play the part, but Gert could have taken home the lifetime achievement award for her rendition. Everyone feared Gert. All the students, even the boys, feared Gert. Sister Mary Joseph was hesitant to correct her work, and if Gert was ever sent to the Principal’s office, he snuck out of his office before she arrived. Even the school custodian stayed out of her way.

It was the last day of school before Christmas vacation, and the class was on its way to the gym for its final practice before the school concert that evening. Halfway to the gym, Marvin realized he had forgotten his song book, so he hustled back to his classroom. As he was leaving the room, song book in hand, he noticed a candy bar sticking out of Gert’s bookbag. It was a Snickers.

Candy was not abundant in Marvin’s household, and Snickers was his favorite. He stared at that candy bar, then scanned the empty room. Rationalization, the second most powerful driving force in the human condition, kicked in. As far as he knew, Gert was the worst person in the world. He had suffered terribly at her hands with the tortuous verbal assaults- “Four Eyes”, “Dummy”, “Wimpy”, and the indelible “Sawed Off Turd.” She deserved to lose that Snickers, and he deserved to have it.

Marvin took one final look around the room, reached down, grabbed the candy bar, stashed it in his pocket, and hurried down the hallway. He darted into the Boys’ Bathroom, unwrapped the plundered prize, stuffed it into his mouth, and flushed the wrapper down the toilet. No evidence- the perfect crime.

---

Or was it? Fifty years later he was still paying the price. Marvin had replayed it so many times in his mind. He could see his hand reaching out and grabbing that candy bar. He even remembered how it was positioned in the bookbag. If he replayed the scene often enough, maybe just one time he could stop that hand before it arrived at its brush with the devil.

A good, long life marred by one brief moment of indiscretion. A true princess feels the discomfort of a single pea under 20 mattresses and 20 feather beds; a truly good man is disturbed by a single breach of ethics.

---

One day as he was driving past St. Charles, he noticed that Confessions were being heard that very evening. Confession! That’s the answer! He will confess the sin to Father “whoever it is now”, as Marvin hadn’t been to church since his wife died, and his sin would be forgiven.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned. My last confession was…well, like a really long time ago.”

“Not a problem. God welcomes all who enter. And what sins would you like to confess?”

“I’m sure I could come up with a bunch of them, but tonight I just want to do one.”

“That’s a little unusual, but I guess it’s a start. And what is this sin that you wish to confess?”

“ I stole something, Father.”

“And what did you steal?”

“A candy bar, Father. It was a Snickers.”

“I see, a shoplifting incident.”

“No, Father. I stole it from a girl in the 5^th Grade.”

“A 5^th Grade girl?”

“Yes, Father, right here at St. Charles.”

“You sound like an older gentleman, and you say you stole a candy bar from a 5^th Grade girl?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be stealing candy from children?”

“Oh, Father, I didn’t just steal it. It was a long time ago when I was in the 5^th Grade. That was like…let me see…60 years ago.”

“You are here today to confess that you stole a candy bar 60 years ago?”

“Yes, Father, that’s it. Now we’re making good progress.”

“Well, that is quite remarkable. You must be a man of great conscience to be bothered by something you did so long ago. I’m sure God forgives you. For your penance, you will say three Hail Marys and three Our Fathers. Go in peace, and may God be with you.”

Marvin remained motionless. He didn’t feel the relief of the burden he had carried for so long that he had hoped for.

“Uh, Father, I’m not sure that did it. I still feel pretty guilty, pretty bad about the whole thing.”

“Well, sir, I told you God forgives you. We can only do so much here.”

“I’m sorry, Father. This may be hard for you to understand, but this has really weighed on me all these years. You can’t imagine how many time I wished I could undo what I did that day.”

The good priest was thinking.

“Mmm, maybe that’s the answer.”

“What’s that, Father?”

“Undo what you did.”

“Huh?”

“Replace the candy bar. Find the person you took it from and give her a candy bar.”

“It would have to be a Snickers.”

“Sure, fine, a Snickers.”

“I have no idea where she is, Father. I might never be able to find her. She may not even still be alive.”

“Well, you could perhaps make a donation to the school’s Christmas Party, some kind of treats for the children.”

“It would have to be Snickers, Father.”

“Fine, Snickers for everyone.”

The good priest was thinking again.

“Or, you could make a small donation to the church, say a hundred dollars or so. We take Visa and Master Card if you don’t carry that much cash.”

Now Marvin was thinking.

“Father, I like your idea. I’ll try to give Gert a candy bar.”

“Gert?”

“Yes, Father. That’s her name, Gert. I am going to start looking for her today.”

“And if you can’t find her, don’t forget about a donation to the church. I’m sure that would go a long way in the healing process.”

“Yes, Father, thank you.”

Marvin got up to leave, but he had one more question for the good priest.

“Father, since I’m going to try to return the candy bar, do I still have to say the Hail Marys and the Our Fathers?”

---

 Return the candy bar. It was so simple, so effective. He took a candy bar from Gert. He would give a candy bar to Gert. All even, squared away, peaceful evenings on the porch. Maybe an older, more mature Gert would even remember her abusive treatment of Marvin and apologize, removing the lingering bitterness from his heart.

Marvin was on it. He had functional capabilities in performing internet searches, and he spent the entire afternoon and evening looking for Gert. Her horrific personality and unfortunate appearance turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Marvin’s hunch that she could not possibly have found a mate in life proved to be correct, and she still carried her maiden name. That was the good news. The bad news was she lived in Cleveland, over a 1,000 miles away.

---

First things first. Marvin made a trip to his 7-Eleven that very night. He looked at the one lonely looking single Snickers bar remaining in the box. Marvin hadn’t purchased a Snickers bar in years, having given them up as part of a futile effort to erase the memory. He reached down to pick up that Snickers bar, as he had done so many years before, and gazed at it in his hand. He could feel the strength, the power in that candy bar, Gert’s candy bar, the candy bar that would set him free.

Fate…wrong place at the wrong time can overcome a bucketful of good intentions.

“Put your hands up!”

Marvin saw a man holding a gun pointed at the young girl behind the counter. A door to the backroom swung open, and the robber fired his gun that direction. The old man who charged into the store also had a weapon and soon bullets were flying everywhere. It turned out that neither of the combatants was a very good shot, and both weathered the melee unscathed. Unfortunately, one of the errant bullets hit a wine bottle near poor Marvin and sent nasty shards of glass deep into his side. As the bad guy raced toward the door, the slightly wounded Marvin was well positioned to extend his foot and trip him, sending him crashing into the wall. The old man held the would-be robber at gunpoint until the police arrived. Minutes later, an ambulance showed up for Marvin, still clutching the precious Snickers bar.

As paramedics tended to Marvin, he extended a one dollar bill to the young clerk.

“Here, I need to pay for this candy bar. It’s a Snickers.”

“Oh, sir, don’t be ridiculous. After all you’ve been through you just keep the candy bar. That’s the least we can do.”

A still dazed Marvin responded, “Thanks.”

The dollar bill was just inches from the clerk’s hand when Marvin quickly retracted it. He realized the act of restitution could well be tainted if performed with a free candy bar.

“No, wait. Take the dollar. I have to pay for this candy bar.”

---

The next morning a very confused Marvin woke up in a hospital bed. He was recovering from surgery and had only foggy recollections of the previous evening’s events. A nurse entered.

“What happened? Why am I here?”

“You were injured in a robbery last night.

Marvin’s eyes popped wide open.

“Who did I rob?”

“You didn’t rob anyone. In fact, you helped catch the robber. You’re a hero.”

It came back to Marvin, and the immediate concern was his prized possession.

“Where’s all my stuff?!”

“Your clothes are in the closet, and your wallet, watch and anything else should be in the drawer.”

“I need to see something that should be in there.”

The nurse opened the drawer and tried to calm him.

“It looks like it’s all here, your wallet, a watch, and some change.”

“That’s it?!”

“Oh, and a candy bar.”

“Is it a Snickers?”

“Yes, it’s a Snickers.”

“Could you bring it to me?”

“Your wallet or your watch?”

“No, the Snickers.”

“Sir, you can’t eat a candy bar now. It’s too soon after surgery.”

“I don’t want to eat it. I just want to hold it.”

“I see…”

---

Delayed but not deterred. In fact, the interruption only intensified Marvin’s determination to get that Snickers back to Gert.

His son Carl came home for a week to help Marvin around the house. A week after Carl’s departure, Marvin deemed himself travel-ready and booked his flight to Cleveland. The anticipation of that glorious moment when he would hand Gert her Snickers bar had grown immeasurably over the past two weeks, and it was a very excited Marvin who climbed into Buzz’s cab that cold, snowy morning.

Cabbies talk. Buzz filibustered. Marvin knew his life story before they were halfway to the airport. His wife left him three years ago for the company dispatcher. The divorce wiped him out. His kids took her side and disowned him. He had no friends. He took to drink every night to ease the pain. His retirement plan was suicide.

Marvin was trapped in the back of the cab so he listened, well, more like heard. Every few minutes, Marvin would check his pocket to make sure the candy bar was safe and secure. As he would intermittently close his eyes, foolishly hoping that act could block sound, he almost missed seeing the truck sliding across the highway taking dead aim at his cab. Metal on metal, the cab, being substantially smaller than the truck, was tossed into the air. Marvin was ejected in mid-flight and fell to the snow covered road as the cab, with the screaming Buzz inside, bounced off the guardrail and dropped to the icy river below.

Marvin lay in the road, dazed but uninjured. He was very confused as his cab was not in sight. The cold air was shattered by a voice from below.

“Help! Marvin! Help!”

Marvin rushed to the guardrail and saw Buzz, on the top of his sinking cab.

“Help! I can’t swim! I want to live!”

 Marvin’s first thought was he couldn’t remember telling Buzz his name. His second thought was how could he possibly have been thrown into the position of being the only one who could now save a man who only minutes ago was planning on his own suicide.

Marvin positioned himself on top of the guardrail and prepared to jump.

“Wait! You might need this!”

A young girl carrying a mesh bag of soccer balls ran to Marvin. Fate had put a mom taking her girls to an indoor soccer practice on that bridge at the right moment to give Marvin the flotation device he likely would need.

Marvin grabbed the bag, said a quick prayer and…

Wait! Marvin! The Snickers bar!

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the intact Snickers bar. His watch and wallet were an afterthought.

“Miss, could you hold these for me?”

Fortunately Marvin was a very good swimmer. Unfortunately, his head bounced off a large chunk of floating ice at splashdown. Marvin grabbed hold of Buzz, and the two of them paddled to shore as they clung to the bag of soccer balls.

The young soccer player greeted Marvin as he emerged from the river, the bag of soccer balls was exchanged for the Snickers bar, wallet and watch. He was stitched up at the hospital, diagnosed with a moderate concussion, and sent home. Carl came back for a week.

“Dad, this candy bar thing is ridiculous. Look what’s already happened. Just mail the damn thing to her.”

“Can’t do that son. I stole it from her. I’m going to give it to her.”

Maybe for Marvin the person to person meeting was necessary to complete the process of reconciliation. Maybe he wanted to get the last word in with his former tormentor. Or, maybe he just wanted to see the look on her face when he returned the candy bar. Whatever the case, Marvin was committed. There was no turning back.

---

Cleveland. A quiet cab ride. Marvin could already feel a sense of peace settling in. All those years of regret, those troublesome nights on the screened-in porch, the restless minutes between the time his head hit the pillow and the arrival of sleep, would be washed away like warm rain cleansing the earth.

You would have thought Marvin had the Hope Diamond in his pocket. He repeatedly felt his pocket to make sure it was still there. He pulled it out of his pocket to satisfy himself the candy bar and wrapper were still in good condition. And sometimes he took it out of his pocket just to look at it, to marvel at the value of this small, seemingly insignificant package.

His heart was pounding as he rang the doorbell. He recognized Gert as soon as she opened the door.(Marvin figured she’d be easy to recognize because no one could look like Gert.)

“Gert?”

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Do you remember me?”

“No.”

“I’m Marvin, Marvin Olson.”

“So?”

“Marvin from St. Charles. We went to school together. All 8 years.”

Gert was thinking.

“Oh…were you the little guy with the goofy glasses who always wore the dorky shirts?”

Sixty years raced by in a flash, and Marvin was back at St. Charles being tormented by the beast known as Gert. At that moment he briefly considered just bolting, aborting the mission, or maybe he’d eat the candy bar right in front of her. No, he had come too far.

“Yes, I guess that was me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back in the 5^th Grade, the last day of school before Christmas vacation, I stole a candy bar from you, and I am here to return it.”

At that point, Marvin reached in his pocket and triumphantly displayed the candy bar. Gert was very confused, but she was thinking.

“Oh…I remember. A candy bar disappeared from my backpack that day. I just thought I lost it.”

“It was a Snickers, and I stole it, Gert. I always felt bad about it, so today I am here to return it.”

“I can’t take it.”

Marvin felt uneasy.

“Why?”

“Do you remember we did that ‘Secret Santa’ thing?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I only had that candy bar to give to someone else that day.”

Oh, no. Marvin’s spirit sunk. After all he had been through, he had made this trip for nothing, and now he would have to track down the new rightful owner.

“Do you remember who you were ‘Secret Santa’ for?

“I was your ‘Secret Santa’, Marvin. You stole your own candy bar.”