Lesson learned: Think before you act

PRINCETON — I was probably about 10 when I determined for sure that pretending to wash a wall in the vicinity of a crystal chandelier had very breakable consequences.

Sparkling globes and drapes of crystal-studded chains have adorned the light in Nanny’s living room for as long as I can remember, and the fancy decor still holds a fascination for any munchkin that spots its ornate presence.

I can remember as a child begging whatever grownup happened to be around for a boost to touch the cool, perfectly circular pendant that hung from the bottom of the chandelier. Occasionally, the adults in the family complied, always cautioning not to swing the glistening ornament too hard or clink the glass pieces together.

Everything about the decorative system intrigued me, including the rainbows of colors the crystals’ prisms would send cascading around the room on a sunny day when the rays entered the windows just right.

But, I was long past fantasizing about the elegant crystals one day when I found myself in the house alone, apparently bored.

Although I can’t recall the exact thought process that led to the destructive pastime, I do remember picking up a mop that had been left in the living room from a recent bout of spring cleaning. The handle had served as the implement that allowed Nanny to reach the highest point of the paneled walls she fastidiously wiped down before the onset of serious garden season.

The years between then and now have dimmed my recollections of my intentions, but I believe I started out pretending I was cleaning the walls. Before long, however, I’m guessing I started role-playing as a master majorette with a really long baton, or maybe a famous singer, with an unusual prop.

Whatever was going through my mind at the time, I soon accidentally thrust the round end of the mop handle through one of the globes that protected the faux flame bulbs in the center of the chandelier.

The high-pitched breaking sound of glass was unmistakable, instantly causing my heart to somehow pound in my throat and sink to the farthest tips of my toes at the same time. Although I briefly contemplated cleaning up the mess and leaving the broken evidence hanging over all of our heads, I confessed my crime within minutes, knowing that whatever the punishment was, it would likely be severe and might as well be faced.

I was surprised when Nanny and Granddaddy handled the news calmly, demanding only an explanation of how a mop handle came into contact with a piece of glass hanging over a carpeted room. That’s a tough one to explain, rationally.

Mom handled the news more as I expected — with anger and confusion — but really, the only punishment dealt me that day was the declaration that Mom would pay for a new part for the chandelier, while I worked off my debt to her.

If I remember correctly, the globe to fix the light only cost about $30, but I worked hard for a long time to pay off my bill. Every load of laundry I sorted, piece of furniture I dusted or home-grown cucumber I washed moved me one step closer to making what I’d broken right again, and I was relieved when I’d paid off the mistake and could look up at Nanny’s light without shame again.

My ill-fated episode of play came to mind this week, in the wake of two incidents of vandalism at local schools — one that left Princeton High School’s cherished Tiger all black and adorned with PikeView letters and another that put obscene messages on PikeView’s property.

By now, the Tiger has been removed, and PikeView’s property has largely been reclaimed. As of the last report, which is somewhat unconfirmed since some suspects were juveniles, the perpetrators who vandalized PikeView had been identified and suspended, without the possibility of participating in upcoming graduation ceremonies. Meanwhile, the culprit of the Princeton vandalism remained unclear, despite widespread belief among Tiger students that they knew exactly who tried to turn their mascot into a PikeView Panther.

Over the last week, local residents, parents and even law enforcement officials have debated the appropriate punishment for two pranks with the power to stir buried bitterness between the two local schools. As a Princeton alum, I think it’s pretty low to paint a piece of art that is part of the school, but I’m sure I’d feel equally offended if it was the wall of my school or the entrance to the parking lot that were defaced.

Both schools have lost, because a few hot heads put their hands and feet to work without consulting their brains or their senses of respect and decency. The only way to make the vandals see what they’ve done is to exact a cost they will feel, just as much as the schools have endured the expenses essential for repairs or replacements.

In this case, my mom’s form of justice is as appropriate as it was the day I broke the chandelier, though it probably isn’t possible these days in public school, short of a court ruling.

I learned a lot from my punishment. For example: Just because something might be an accident, doesn’t mean it won’t have consequences; sometimes it pays to think before you act; other people’s property has value and deserves respect; and there are some things that just don’t work well together.

These days, I always steer clear of mixing long mops and low lights, just like I hope the young vandals will separate destructive inspiration from spray paint in the future.

Tammie Toler is editor of the Princeton Times. Contact Tammie Toler at ttoler@ptonline.net.

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Lesson learned: Think before you act

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