Sunday, August 31, 2014

Good Morning Justin

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 31 August

Good Morning Justin…

It’s the Labor Day weekend.  I don’t care how hot it is there’s the feel of Fall in the air, like it’s the first day of school.  We’ve turned a corner and there’s no going back.  Halloween get-ups are beginning to creep onto the retail shelves, taking the place of notebooks and other school supplies.  Swimsuits are marked seventy percent off in this part of the country.  All community pools will soon close.  It’s near time the leaves begin falling from trees.  Are you ready for another round of family gatherings for the holidays?

Hold everything.  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  The acorns are still locked in the crowns of their trees.  I haven’t yet heard the sound of a single one land on a roof and roll off into a rain gutter.  The day I hear that sharp thunk followed by its tailing uneven rolling rattle is the day we can officially mark as the start of Autumn.  It won’t be long.  It arrives before the first votes are cast.  Yes, this is an election year.  This is good.  I’m a someone again.  My Senator can’t stop thinking of me.  She’s always in need of my money.  If only I can open my wallet one more time we can maybe meet our monthly goal.  Please.  Even five dollars would be so gratefully received.  Surely I won’t miss such a trifling amount.  Won’t I take a moment of my time right now and wire off the money immediately?  By the way… am I aware a gift of another twenty dollars or more will place me on a list of donors deserving special thanks from the Senator and her family?  The Senator hopes I realize how important a person I am to her.  That’s why she feels good about asking me for an additional hundred dollars.  After all, I am just like family.  Yes, these are desperate times.  No, I certainly don’t want to see my freedoms eroded.  I can make a difference.  People have turned to me to help put things right.  The campaign is at a critical juncture.  It’s up to me, now.  I stand tall.  I’m big enough to meet this challenge.

Doesn't a hundred dollars seem a bit small for the task at hand?  The Senator knows I won’t let her down.  I’ll simply juggle these bills a bit and see what’s left to give.  It’s a tidy sum for a man living on social security.  My heart swells with humility knowing the appreciation felt towards me.  Please don’t embarrass me by unduly fussing over my generosity.  Let’s just say I've made a wise investment in democracy and the future of our nation.  I’m feeling quite the statesman right now.  Yes.  May I suggest we not publicize the extent of my contribution?  I've come to appreciate that my role in saving western civilization is all the thanks I’ll ever need.  Each dollar freely given from my wallet acts now as a sentry protecting justice and fair play. 

I’m overwhelmed.  I've scaled heights too dizzy even for me.  Maybe I've over reacted.  Am I truly ready to take on all this responsibility?  You did say five dollars, right?  Listen, you know I’d love to help but I don’t get paid for another week.  If only I hadn't bought that Starbucks latte the other day.  I swear to you here and now I wouldn't have bought it had I realized you needed another five.  Five bucks seems so little.  Gee, there’s got to be plenty of people other than me that can swing you a five.  Why don’t you ask around.  Maybe I know someone that can help.  I can’t promise anything.  Most people I know are voting for the other guy.  They’re all good people, though.  Guaranteed they’ll feel just terrible knowing five dollars can mean so much and yet be so far out of reach.  A horse!  A horse!  My kingdom for a horse.  Mark Twain, I think.


No comments:

Post a Comment