Confession: Today, I rushed to get ahead of an old woman who was aiming to get the last toilet paper roll at a local supermarket where I went to shop this afternoon. She was walking with purpose.

My mission was to get supplies during this great pause in everyone’s lives. (I was even banned from the Mansion today.)

I raised around a corner at a breakneck pace from the other side and raced down the aisle seven or eight feed ahead of her.  I grabbed the last package (12 rolls!) and pivoted down the aisle. She looked stunned, and then muttered something to herself I couldn’t hear.

I could imagine what it was.

I am sorry to say I felt great. I couldn’t wait to tell Maria I had aced out an old lady for the toilet paper we needed.

She might not say so, but I thought she might be pleased that her man got us some toilet paper at a critical time in American history.

In recent days I’ve heard from many people, and from the media, that toilet paper is vanishing from American grocery stores, toilet paper supplies are being wiped out in the backlash from the coronavirus virus.

I learned today that this is because all American toilet paper comes from China, and the toilet paper manufacturers have all been shut down by the virus. A store clerk told me they couldn’t get a single roll from anywhere.

This is awful, I thought, racing an old lady for the last roll of toilet paper in the market and snatching it. Things are getting real.

But then, I thought, hey wait a minute, let’s not be sexist. I’m an old man; I’m old too. I might even be older than she is,  and I have just as much right to grab the last roll as she does.

It was a fair race. The store was jammed with anxious people, rushing from aisle to aisle to fill up their crates with what was left. The chicken was gone, and the tea and beef, and most of the packaged pasta.

I was eager to justify myself. We don’t patronize women anymore, not at any age. I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to throw the race on her behalf.

And it wasn’t like I tripped her or knocked her over. The toilet paper went to the fastest, and I am not exactly a marathon runner.

She walked away under her own steam and quickly.

How could I justify giving her the roll just because she’s a woman?

She looked very nice, but maybe she wasn’t.  I imagined her thinking, “Hey, I’m going to ace out this old man!”

There is no mercy in the toilet paper lane wars.

The stakes are high. Another old man congratulated me, “I can always use leaves,” he said, before rushing off to the fish department.

“But there are no leaves now!” shouted another woman, shocked at the empty toilet paper aisle. I don’t think he heard her.

I like to write that I don’t need to be a saint to do good, and believe me, it’s true. What kind of man would do that to an elderly woman,  my conscience belatedly began to ask?

I didn’t answer the question.

I grew up in a different time. You were supposed to open doors for older women and carry their bags to the car. Young people have begun doing that for me.

But I also promised some years ago to be honest on my blog. I can’t lie about what I did during the Great Toilet Paper Panic.

I was tickled, as the hunter-gatherer of my family (Maria hates shopping), I would proudly bring this precious commodity home like a great hunter with an eight-point Stag in hunting season,  before toilet paper disappears entirely from every market in the country.

But then, my resolve began to weaken, and I started to feel ashamed of myself. That’s not the person I want to be.

I decided to give this woman the toilet paper, after all. I thought of Hannah Arendt and her advice or moral choices: you have to look in the mirror and like yourself. You must never do anything to make you hate that face.

I thought of how good it feels to do good.

How wonderful it is to give, not take.

I looked at my reflection in the glass hard Apple Cider case, and I didn’t like the person I saw looking back, the one who beat that old lady to the toilet paper.

In the aisle, I looked on Amazon to see if I had an easy out. I was hoping I could just order some toilet paper online and give this woman half or even all of the 12 pack I just snatched. That, I thought would satisfy Hannah Arendt and get her to shut up and out of my head.

But there was no toilet paper left for sale even on Amazon; every single brand was sold out and unavailable.

If I gave her mine, that was it. No toilet paper for us. And we have some quiet weeks ahead of us. What would Gandhi or Mother Teresa do?

I felt terrible (a bit), I decided to track her down and give her the whole package of toilet paper, all 12 rolls.

But I couldn’t find her (she probably raced off to grab the last cans of tuna fish, they were all gone when I got there.) I imagine she had finished looting the rest of the store and gone home.

I think it’s probably safe to say there is no toilet paper in America. But there are at least 12 rolls in our closet. We hope this crisis passes quickly.

Maria is already mumbling something about hay, shovels and the woods. She was not really pleased when I told her this story. She does not seem proud of me.

I wonder if the President will address that with his corporate buddies. I bet he has plenty of toilet paper.

So there it is the full story. I was part of  The Great Toilet Paper Panic of 2020.

I learned a lot from it. I have some work to do on me.

Is it possible to be proud of something and ashamed of it at the same time?

Oh yes, and there is this: buy toilet paper often. Do not take it for granted.

You never know.