The Sidewalk Incident

When I was five years old and walking home from school one day I was using a twig to write something (maybe my name) in a section of fresh, unhardened sidewalk when, to my complete horror, was caught by a police officer. I wanted to run, but I froze. Caught! Man, was I in trouble now. I don't remember exactly what happened or what the officer said, but I never had to make bail. I don't even think I was arrested... it was forty years ago. But, while I am and always have been a law-abiding citizen whose only crime is speeding (and tailgating), to this day, seeing a cop still stirs my fright/flight/fight reaction. It's not major, you see, in fact, so subtle that I don't normally think about it, but it is still there. All that needs to happen is for me to see a police officer somewhere, and something goes tink in my memory banks. Was I supposed to be a criminal in my adult life? Was impressing my initials or "C A T" in a freshly smoothed sidewalk my introduction to a life of crime? There is still time...