My name's not Earl

I'm a big fan of the show "My Name is Earl," which (alas) is only shown in reruns now. I love the cast, the snappy dialogue, the quirky plots and most of all, The List.
The premise of the show is that Earl, a scam artist and general ne'er do well, wins the lottery and has a revelation: Karma wants him to make up for all the bad things he did. Well, my name's not Earl, but in case karma comes looking for me, I need to confess.
When I was in second grade, I stole a 2-cent piece of bubble gum from the little restaurant uptown in what passed as a business district in my tiny hometown of 450 souls.
Whew. I feel better with off my chest. But unlike Earl, I can't make up for my bad thing. The restaurant is long ago closed, its owners gone to that great diner in the sky. And, yes, I suppose every kid swipes something at one time or another,
One of mine once tried to take a toothbrush from a drugstore. Luckily, this was another small town and they called me. The Kid was crying and fearful when I got there, but that was the end of Kiddo's shoplifting career.
My late husband told me a little story about how he took an orange from the grocery store when his family went shopping. When his father spotted the orange, he dragged Hubby back and made him apologize. That, he said later, was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
Me, I had to learn the lessons on my own. The weight of my guilt was heavy as I sat in Sunday School, staring at the poster of the 10 Commandments and that biggie, Thou Shall Not Steal. And yes, I hid that little piece of the past as I warned my kids of the wages of sinning by stealing.
You know, I feel much better since I've confessed. And in the spirit of Earl, I believe I'll make my amends in the right way. I'm going to buy a huge box of bubble gum and add it to my monthly donation to the local food bank.
And then I can move on to making up for all those other stupid things I've done in life.