Put it on My Tab

I grew up in what I guess could be described as a lower middle class family. We lived out in the country, about five miles from the little town of Sylacauga. My daddy had somehow managed to move us from an old downtown home to a country neighborhood of upper middle class folks. Most of our neighbors were merchants, owners of prosperous businesses in town. In hindsight, I realize the sacrifices my daddy made to keep it all together so I could live in the country with room to roam. We lived very simply. We never ate "out," and I only remember him having one new vehicle in the twenty-five years that we spent together.

Our neighbors maintained a different lifestyle. New cars, vacations, boats, motorcycles, and other toys appeared seemingly at will.

The folks across the street had a kid that was three years older than me, and he was always getting some new toy, usually before he was old enough to have it. His daddy owned the Dairy Queen, a very successful business before the McDonalds and Burger King came to town. This kid got pretty much everything he wanted. It was hard for an eight-year old like me to understand.

My rich neighbor rode to school with us every day. We always stopped at old man Spruell's country store on the way into town. My daddy bought gas three dollars worth at a time--what was needed for the day (this was at a time when gas was 50 cents a gallon). I never saw him fill up. I realize now that he didn't have the cash to do so.

Me and rich kid always went inside while daddy pumped his gas. He would always roam the aisles and pick up several things for his school day. Pencils, a coke, some potato chips for snack, and maybe something sweet like a Little Debbie cake or a Hostess Twinkie. He'd toss this loot on the counter and tell old man Spruell to "put it on my tab."

I didn't know what "put it on my tab" meant, but it sure looked like magic to me.

One day I decided to try the magic. My momma always fixed my lunch and snack and had me prepared for the upcoming day, so I didn't really need anything. But Fritos corn chips had a special promotion going on. Each bag contained a prize--a big pencil eraser shaped like the "Frito Bandito." Man, I wanted one of those for my pencil.

I had just thrown the bag on the counter and uttered the magic words when my daddy came through the door.

"What did you say?"

"I said, uh, uh, put it on my tab?"

"Put it back," he said. "First thing is, you don't need that. Second, we don't have a tab. We pay cash for what we buy."

Rich boy laughed, and I took the prized Bandito back to the display. He would have to rest in his tomb of corn chips until I had 30 cents.

Looking back some thirty years later I realize how smart my daddy was.

We are currently living in a time when our Nation is broke. Our State is broke. We are beginning to experience the consequences of fifty years worth of "put it on my tab."

Need a new government program? Put it on our tab. New school? Put it on our tab. Need to subsidize something that can't stand on it's own two feet? Put it on our tab. We'll pay the bill someday.

Well someday is here. We are broke, and the tab has come due. A whole lot of people who have been living off the tab are about to become very unhappy.

You were right, dad. If we couldn't pay for it, we should have put it back.