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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
June 3, 2007
Previously unpublished fiction.
© 2007 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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Elephant (Four), 1973
© 1973 by Bud Grossmann
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A MISSED CHANCE
From: David C. Fischer <d—@juno.com>
To: l—@yahoo.com
Date: Tue, 29 May 2007 13:04:16 -0500
Subject: Thanks for your patience.
Evidently not all of my outbound or inbound e-mails are getting through, and I sometimes neglect you, dear Lou-Ann, bec. you are so patient (oh, what a paradox! shouldn't I be kindest to my kindest friends?), but if I don't get back to you promptly on something, would you please nag me?
I'm not sure what I know of Chaim Potok. I looked him up in Wikipedia. These over-credentialed Jews of our parents' generation intimidate me. I am so surprised to be eighty pages into the Singer book and feeling as if the author is inside my skin (Singer is an over-credentialed Jew writing about over-credentialed Jews, showing how very human and frail each one is). And guess what, sometimes he uses knitting metaphors.
More later. Just wanted to get your e-mail off my desk and off my conscience.
You mentioned Elephant Man; I'm not familiar with him or it.
You mentioned coffee. A friend here in Fjord just returned from Jamaica, and I forbade her to bring me a gift of Blue Mountain. I sounded pretty persuasive to my own ear, so I would bet that she will have come back without any. But I just drank two cups of Name Brand 100% Columbian with whipped cream and sugar, and I'm regretting that I missed a chance to ruin my blood pressure with Blue Mountain. Maybe I'll make a list of Vices I Wish I Had Made the Most Of and recite them one-by-one while I'm doing sit-ups.
When my parents' neighbor was showing me his pets a few days ago (various geese, ducks, chickens, no peacocks, sheep, goats, horses, donkeys, dog, and others), I leaned down to take a good look at a black lamb's tail that was lying lamb-less in the driveway. I knew exactly what it was, but wasn't sure how it had gotten to where I found it, and I wasn't even sure why I was staring. Maybe I was looking for maggots. First time I went into my grandparents' bedroom after Grampa died and Gramma moved to The Home, I found on top of their dresser a tool for applying the rubber bands that castrate lambs or cut off the blood supply to their tails. Maybe it's still there. This paragraph has a connection to the previous paragraph. If you don't know what it is, Lou-Ann, you are not archiving the trivia of my life as thoroughly as I fear.
Thanks, again, dear lady, for your patience. And for your other virtues and vices.
Love, Dave
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