23 October
From “The Human Condition: A User’s Manual,” by
Arnold Kunst
I remember, vividly remember, an incident with my best
friend Jerry when we were both aged four or so. One day while we were playing with
our toy cars in his sand-box he had stolen my very favorite toy car and then
pretended he hadn't. I lay awake for some time that night plotting my revenge:
I was going to pretend he was my friend the next day and while we were playing
I would do whatever - I don't remember what form my revenge was going to take,
but the very prospect of getting even, laying there sleepless in my bed that
night, was utterly delicious to contemplate. So, the next day I pretended we
were friends as usual, and we began playing cars in his sand-box as we had the
previous day. I continued playing and, when I got home at the end of the day,
remembered the elaborate revenge I had planned, but then forgot to carry out!
In the course of playing I found the car in question - he hadn't hidden it very
well. Even so I initially felt bad that I had failed to get my delicious
revenge - it was as if I had somehow let the team down. Then, that second
night, it hit me: forgetting revenge and playing with a friend was maybe the
better choice.
Do you think that was the right choice?
Do you think that was the right choice?
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