Tomfoolery

When I was a child my mother would often take me to spend time with my cousins. One particular occasion comes to mind during which we rebelled against our routine gathering that would normally consist of a mild game of cards or family oriented television programming. On this day we chose to venture out into the world; more specifically, the eleven hundred block of South Western Avenue in Park Ridge, Illinois.

I would estimate that my cousin, Victoria, eleven months my elder, and I were roughly seven or eight years of age on this day. It was an Autumn day- crisp and what not. We were restless and sought any kind of adventure. We found it but a few houses away from Victoria's. The home had an asphalt driveway littered with long pink leaves. These were peculiar looking leaves and I had never seen any that looked quite like that, nor have I since.

In a swift act of impulsion, I made my way up the driveway to the spot right beneath the tree with said pink leaves, scooped up a handful of them, and made my way to the front door. Boldly, I summoned the owners via the bell and waited. Victoria stood back several yards behind me, giggling. I was greeted by a middle aged man. Behind him, a woman who looked like she was dressed for a party strutted down the elegant staircase, hands sweeping along the banister.

"Who is it?" she asked him.

"A girl," he replied.

Turning back to me, he asked me what I wanted. I extended my hands, clenching the pink leaves.

"Would you like to buy some leaves?" I asked.

He chuckled and turned back around to his wife who was now approaching the door.

"She wants to know if we want to buy the leaves," he told her.

As he turned around again to face me, his chuckle morphed into just a smile and then to nothing at all. Straight faced he asked, "But really. What do you want?"

I was baffled by his confusion, to say the least. Had I not made myself perfectly clear? All I wanted to know was whether or not he was interested in buying these strange pink leaves that I had collected off his property. What was so unbelievable about that?

I told him once more. He laughed again, said he was not interested, and closed the door. I turned around to face Victoria and together we walked back to her house. Though I had accomplished nothing at all, I still felt an indescribable sense of pride in myself for having done that. In fact, I felt proud enough that I told my aunt all about it upon returning to the house. I remember her asking me something like,

"Carsten, don't you think doing something like that could get you in trouble?"

But I more clearly remember responding,

"I like getting in trouble."

She later told my mother what I had done, with an emphasis on this declaration I had made about my enjoyment of mischief.

In the end, this "adventure" turned out not to be very adventuresome at all. It was just strange yet curiously gratifying.

Years later, at my own house, my friend Nick from down the street knocked on my door. I listened from the next room as my grandfather asked him what he wanted.

"Just wondering if you wanted to buy these leaves. I got them from your yard."

At the time I thought him foolish, trying to sell us our own leaves and what not. Only now do I smirk to myself as I fondly recall my own leaf selling days. Wonderfully enough, I had never even told Nick my own story.



Those crazy kids.