Danny Spatchek, Editor-in-Chief of the Mirror, stopped in while I was writing one of my columns.

“You’re just having too much fun with this,” he said, “and that’s not right.”

“Besides,” he continued, “I hear you’re ruffling some feathers among the faculty and the Muskie fans by not being respectful enough of authority and tradition.”

“Do you mean, ‘ruffling some scales?’” I asked. “You’re probably right, Mr. Honcho-in-Chief,” I added under my breath.

Danny left the room knowing, I suspect, just how effective that little talk had been. That’s what you get when you mess with a crotchety old nontrad who’s just having too much fun.

So I thought I might—in that same spirit—discuss donations to the school.

(That last line is what you call a “segue.” Pronounced sĕg’-wāy, it’s a method I use to slip undetected from one subject to another one that’s totally unrelated. It’s not the goofy-looking scooter. I know that because I’m a writing major and not a riding major.)

Anyway,I feel I need to explain something my parents imparted to me as a child. They insisted that charity should be unacknowledged. Donations should not be aimed at getting a plaque on the wall or a free gift in the mail.

Hence my problem. If I were to make a contribution to Lakeland after I graduate, I’d likely wind up with a brick bearing my name in the new Alumni Plaza. At least I would if I donated $150—payable in three easy installments of $50 (hint)—and, as I’ve explained, I couldn’t look in the mirror if I owned a brick like that.

An unsolvable problem. A paradox. “A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” as Winston Churchill once said.

Maybe I’ve been making too big of a deal out of this. An easy solution has actually presented itself, and it came to me out of the blue. I found a $30 parking ticket on my car—the one with the blue sticker still on the bumper.

I admit I was upset. I tried to rationalize not having picked up a new orange permit by explaining to myself that the blue one had the years 2010 and 2011 printed on it. I should have realized that was the “school year” and not “two years,” which is why I never became comfortable enough with the argument to jump up and down on someone’s desk and holler at them.

What I did realize,however, was what a great opportunity that little slip of paper under the wiper blade presented when it came to unacknowledged giving.

I recognized that all I needed to do was to keep the blue sticker, and then park in a student lot four more times. Then I’d have donated the same amount of money to Lakeland as if I had purchased a brick… and it wouldn’t be acknowledged. Best of all, I’d still get the brick.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the ones with people’s names engraved in them, but have you noticed those blank ones separating them? If so, you’ve probably thought, as did I, that those were yet-to-be purchased. Nope.

I get it now. They represent unacknowledged donors. One of those unnamed bricks is mine, and another could be yours. I’ll be watching the parking lots to see how many orange stickers come off, and how many blue ones go back on.

I can hardly wait, and I’m guessing that if anyone over at campus security is reading this, they’re drooling by now.