Column

by Kara Gebhart

There is a thief on the loose.

Perhaps I am privileged, growing up in a home where I learned that stealing things was wrong. Perhaps it's my guilty conscience that keeps me from taking things that aren't mine. Or perhaps I just find a certain amount of pleasure in owning and using things I either receive as gifts or I earn on my own.

My friends often label me as innocent and naïve, which might explain why I was floored to get the phone call a few weekends ago while I was at my parent's house. The night before, someone had broken into our abode on Stewart Street and had taken two computers while one of my housemates was in the house, sleeping.

So I'm a little mad.

I have a bad tendency to ignore good advice and therefore never save a thing to disk, meaning I lost a lot. Yea, a computer is expensive. And yea, it's going to be a long time before I can afford another one. But it's not so much the actual unit I miss - it's everything that was on it.

All of my saved e-mails, the handwritten letters of the 21st century, gone. There were e-mails from good, good friends, many from my family and hundreds saved from my long-distance boyfriend - our love letters. And I miss them.

And then there were my stories. Many were simply beginnings, middles or ends, slowly evolving into short fiction pieces, while others were waiting to be banged out as novels. Many had lots of work that needed to be done while one or two were just sitting there, waiting to be printed out and mailed to an editor. I guess I was scared - I now regret that stupid fear.

Also gone are all of my e-mail addresses, countless papers written for countless classes and copies of resumes, cover letters and applications I created in response to an absurd number of jobs.

And the thing that makes me really mad is that the guy who stole my computer is probably going to make $100 off of it, tops. The thing is four years old, which is ancient in computer years. So he makes a few bucks while I lose four years of my writing, work and memories. Sigh.

This past Monday I was summoned to serve as a Grand Juror in the Common Pleas Court of Athens County - let's just say I'm not the only one who has had anything stolen. People have always, and will always, steal. And while I truly believe stealing to be wrong, I also believe there are some gray areas, like anything in life.

Once, my parents had a frozen chicken stolen from them. The soft footprints in the linen white snow leading from the street to the deep freeze in the garage gave the thievery away. And for some reason, I'm glad that chicken was stolen. Someone has to be pretty hungry to steal a frozen chicken. And after stealing that chicken, I'm sure they weren't. I find that comforting.

While I've never stolen gum or even a grape from the grocery store as a little kid, I have, in the past, "forgotten" to put the soft drinks on the bills of my friends and family when I have served them lunch and dinner at Skyline Chili. I justified it, telling myself that pop in restaurants is overpriced anyway. I would then happily pocket the larger tip I usually received because of my "forgetfulness."

On the other hand, I was horrified to learn that kids in my high school would buy a $30 shirt at the Gap and would then have their friend who was working the register slip in another $100 worth of clothes in the bag without charging for it.

One hundred dollars, $1.25, a frozen chicken - it's all stealing. And someone, even if one doesn't see it directly, is getting hurt.

So lock you doors, get Renter's Insurance and don't take things that aren't yours. And for the schmuck who stole my computer...If you don't want to give me back the unit, fine. I'll eventually serve enough tables to afford a new one. But could you at least copy all of my stuff onto a few disks and send it my way? I kind of miss my boyfriend, and there are a few old "love letters" I want to read.

Gebhart is a senior magazine journalism major. She can be reached (on a computer borrowed from her sister, who is home from college) at kg403597.