Friday, October 27

God and Religion, Letters to Jim 2 Minutes

Dear Jim,

Happy dad´s and mom´s anniversary. Today is number 72. I told dad it was number 62. Do you think I am getting Alzheimer´s?

When dad and I talked at the beginning of October, he was already remembering his anniversary. He remembered the Blue Angels flying over his and mom´s 50th celebration at the fancy club in the Presidio.

It was a great party. Indian Summer in The City. Mom and Dad looked great and were in their glory. Everyone from everywhere was there. People were very happy for them and told me how much they respected mom and dad.

But it wasn´t so great for me. On the way to the party with dad and mom and our relatives from Ohiuh, mom made fun of the sun hat I was wearing, the one I wore when I was gardening and felt unique in.

It hurt my feelings because it was true. I didn´t look good in it.

It also hurt my feelings because I knew I would not be able to continue gardening for very long, but I did not know what I was going to do. All the effort I was putting into gardening, but I was failing. All the pride I had in being independent, but it wasn´t making me money. All my lust to be outside living my truth working with my body, but it was going to have to end.

When I talked with all the solid accomplished people at the party, I was very uncomfortable. I had to pretend I was confident and that things were going well. I shoveled shit a few times to make myself look good.

Another reason the party brought me down was the place it was in. It was beautiful.
How come I do not have a place like this? How come I´m not a hot shot like the pilots in the Blue Angels? How come I´m not prestigious like the officers who drink here? How come I do not like to wear a suit and tie like other men? Oh I wish things were going will so I could glory too.

The party was so good people talked about it for years. Some people asked dad and mom to have one for their 60th.

So they did. It was at the church hall, which I never liked. But at least the celebration was in the afternoon when the hall is sunny.

The party was very good, but nobody took pictures. Mom was mad after. It hurt her. There should have been a designated photographer.

I think the reason none of the parishioners took photos of mom and dad was because as much as they wanted to support a church member, they were envious of their great marriage, they didn´t like mom´s outspokenness, and they felt threatened by dad´s humble silent goodness.

I liked the party. I was not comparing myself to anybody and I sure as hell would not want to own the church hall. What I remember about the party was the priest who said the blessing.

He was ten years younger than dad and mom. He looked like a man sure of his place in the world. We listened.

He said that mom and dad were truly a great couple who had an exemplary marriage. The greatest testament to Charles and Dolores, he said, was how they handled the murder of their son. It was truly remarkable, the forgiveness they granted the man.

Jim, you´re the product of dad´s and mom´s wedding night.

Congratulations,

Love,

Dave

Copyright © 2021 by David Vaszko

Published by David Vaszko

David Vaszko writes with hope and passion, presenting strong opinions about the soulless times we live in. One of the theories of art is that art is a way for the artist to make sense of a world he feels uncomfortable in. That description fits Mr. Vaszko's purpose in writing. David does not use a lot of words. He believes most people, writers or not, use too many words. We hope that our readers receive meaning, inspiration, and enjoyment from his writing. Tell your friends, family, and colleagues about the work of David Vaszko.

Published