A few weeks back, I produced an essay called “Memories of Blondie” which had to do with my thoughts about my older daughter. It seemed to be well received, so I thought one more memory would be in order.
Blondie has a sister who is three years younger than she is. Her name is Suzanne. When they were young children, there was an occasion when I was playing with the girls and their mother produced some cookies. The cookies were delivered to me with instructions that I should divide them equally. As most people know, I am a whiz at long division and the multiplication tables up to the level of four or five. When the cookies were placed in my hands for the proper distribution, I said, “Here is one for Blondie and here is one for Daddy.” Then I turned to Suzanne and said, “Here is one for Suzanne and here is one for Daddy.” It seemed to me that this was the only fair and equitable way to distribute the cookies in that the children got theirs and I got mine. This was fully in accordance with algebraic discipline and principles.
After the second round of cookies was distributed, using the same principle of one for Blondie and one for Daddy and one for Suzanne and one for Daddy, Blondie, who was then in the first or second grade, threw a tantrum. Blondie began to question my mathematics. She could not understand why I was winding up with more cookies than the children were. She called her mother and I was forced to relinquish my hard-earned cookies.
Over the years, I have consulted with mathematics instructors and professors of physics and trigonometry, as well as preachers who are superb in adding up the number of years that I will spend in the torments of Hell. When I told them of the division of one for Blondie and one for Daddy and one for Suzanne and one for Daddy, they universally said, “That is the most eminently fair and honorable way to divide cookies.” To this day, old Blondie continues to believe that she was hornswoggled in my distribution of the cookies. My conscience is absolutely as clear as the waters of the Mississippi. My distribution of the cookies may have been Ponzi-like, but in my shower, I continue to sing the refrain of “One for Blondie, one for Daddy, one for Suzanne, and one for Daddy.” I will sing that song with a clear conscience until Ippolito the undertaker comes to carry me away. And if there are funeral services, which I doubt, I want that to be the anthem that is sung by a full choir with a brass band.
E. E. CARR
November 22, 2007
Essay 270
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Kevin’s commentary: Seems reasonable to me. I’ll file this one away to try with my kids someday. Or maybe I’ll just flip a coin to decide who gets all the cookies — heads I win, tails the kids lose.