Childhood's end.

I don’t want to start my short story with a gloomy quote, the tittle is self-explanatory. This is a life lesson that remained with me for a long time. Experiences are the chisel, gouges, and mallet that help us to carve our personality.

High school was a convoluted time in my life’s story. I found the power of music at a very young age. I left aside toys to collect records. In my early teenage days, my music collection blossomed like mosquitoes on a swamp. My musical taste touched an array of genres. From the funky swagger of Ginger Baker’s double bass drum, to the breathtaking, floating sounds of Tchaikovsky. During those days, I felt that Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons,” was as stimulating as Pink Floyd’s “The Wall.” There were no limits to my avid hunger for leaning. I still cherish music with gratitude and respect.

I was not even a teenager when I tasted the bitter fruit of betrayal for the first time in my life. A so-called friend of mine said to me, “Giovanni, my older brother wants to get rid of some records from his collection, maybe there’s something you might like.” I replied, “Bring me a list tomorrow, let’s see.” The next day he brought a list of records, nothing special on it at first glance. Scrolling through it I found Ozzy Osbourne's “Diary of a Madman” album. Without hesitation I said, “Bring me this one!” Putting my finger on the name of the record I wanted. His reply was simple and unapologetic, “Well, I’ll bring it tomorrow.” Our daily routine went by without any major changes, school days are boring right?

The next day, a typical February morning of mid-term exams. That’s the day when I felt deceived and outraged. The article on this dispute was a record his brother bought during one of his summer camps in USA. The item was treated with utmost care, like every vinyl should. I still remember very vividly what happened during the break. When he showed me the well preserved record, another friend of mine was right beside me. He saw the vinyl, and without containing his excitement added, “I’ll give you $1 for it.” I began a heated argument and with him and the so-called owner of the record. According to him, the best way to solve this dispute was to sell it to the best auctioneer.

I won the auction. I was happy to be the new owner of a used record in almost pristine condition. What happened afterwards opened my eyes to a harsh truth. A few minutes later, on a crowded school hall, I saw the previous owner and the other auctioneer splitting the money. It was a simple plot to take money from me. They knew I wanted the record and that I could afford to pay much more than $1.

I walked straight at them. When they saw me, they tried to hide the money. At that exact moment I felt something changed in me. I wanted to viciously punch them. Rage blinded my vision, anger bubbled in my chest. From what I did, I still feel a mix of remorse and relieve. I faced both of them and said, “I got a new record, you lost a friend.” I turned around and never looked back. I felt guilty for not confronting them in a burst of dire indignation. The burden of dissolution surpassed my anger. I went home sad, with a new insight on friendship and life. Money can make you do despicable things.

This experience was my first entry into grown-up territory. That was my childhood’s end as I like to call it. I always thought people were good by nature; circumstances were the ones to blame for such bad deeds. After the used record incident, I began to doubt my reasoning on that subject. For some individuals, to behave like this is the norm. It’s a shame that people that do evil deeds can prosper without restrain in this ego-centered society. They got greed and disloyalty as assets, two highly praised virtues in this bizarre reality of ours. Welcome to the XXI century.