Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The perils of denying human nature

When I was about seven years old, I started to play with fire. My grandfather, knowing that children who are told not to play with fire sometimes hide and set the house on fire, and recognizing that this was a normal part of learning and would stop when the skill had been mastered, said: "If you want to play with fire, you can do whatever you want as long as you do it in front of me; if you hide and play with fire, you are gonna get a lickin'..."

True to his word, I played with fire for years, burning all kinds of things, until one day, when I was thirteen, it was no longer interesting...


One night while making a bonfire at a beach house near Mokolii Island, I burned my finger and there was a big blister. My mom started to get her keys, and my uncle said to her, "Where are you going?" And my mom said, "To buy aspirin." And the only time I have ever seen my uncle angry, he said to my mom, "No! The kid got burned and it is supposed to hurt!" I could not sleep all night. But uncle was right. It is supposed to hurt. That's why I remember to this day exactly what happened, and I haven't burned my finger again... so far...

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