But, from one of the most God-loving, God-serving men I’ve ever known, I received a far more valuable gift that Christmas … a gift that would last a lifetime: the gift of honesty
Each year my boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird and I gathered pecans from trees on the farm, sold them to the Uptons, and split the proceeds with Dad, who was so tight folks said he didn’t even breathe in all the air he needed. Giving something for nothing was not his way; if I wanted Christmas cash, it had to be earned.
That fall, pecans covered the ground. Jaybird and I walked in circles, spiraling outward from tree trunks, filling buckets and dumping them in burlap bags. I was saving for my first shotgun, and eagerly anticipated the Saturday trips to Upton’s in Jaybird’s pickup to sell the harvest. Mr. Wade at the hardware store promised to hold the Remington until a week before Christmas, but if I didn’t have the money by then, he would offer it to other customers. He let me hold the brown-stocked, long-barreled beauty, and I savored the smell of gun oil.
On one trip to Hollandale, Upton’s was packed with folks selling pecans. Ug weighed and wrote out receipts, which Purlene redeemed at the cash register. In his haste, Ug scribbled two receipts, giving one to Jaybird and one to me. Not noticing this, Jaybird handed his receipt to Purlene, took the money, gave me change for candy, and moseyed out front.
Purlene was as slow-witted as Ug was ugly, and I knew she wouldn’t notice the duplicate receipt. Remembering the gun oil smell, I got in line, furtively glancing back at Ug. Purlene peered down at me through scratched bifocals and counted out the cash. The Remington was mine! Noticing my smiling face as we headed home, Jaybird asked why I was so happy. When I told him about my clever trick, the old black man eased off the road and U-turned. I froze in fear.
“Please don’t go back — I’m scared of Mr. Ug,” I begged. “He’ll never know.” Jaybird drove on. Stopping in front of Upton’s, he muttered, “I’ll wait here.”
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“Mr. Ug, somehow me and Jaybird got paid twice, and didn’t discover the mistake until after we left.” My knees knocked as that eye focused on me, and then began roaming.
A toothless smile creased Ug’s slanted jaw, and he said, “That’s a mighty honest thing you did, boy.” Handing me $20 from the returned cash, he said, “Merry Christmas.”
Finally, I had enough to buy my first shotgun, which I still cherish to this day. But, from one of the most God-loving, God-serving men I have ever known, I received a far more valuable gift that Christmas … one that would last a lifetime: the gift of honesty.
