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Bud Grossmann’s
Words of the Week
for the Week of
August 24, 2008
Previously unpublished fiction.
© 2008 by Bud Grossmann.
All Rights Reserved.
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Flag on shirt, 2004
© 2004 by Bud Grossmann
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PRAYING FOR WISDOM
Today I received a triple-forwarded mass-mailed indignant e-mail from Judy Bryson’s Aunt Carolyn, bless her heart. I rarely hear from Aunt Carolyn, but she has sent other messages of the cry-wolf genre. She introduced today’s with the words “Amen and I say again AMEN.” The pass-it-along part reads:
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Subject: Fw: Fw: Fw: SHOCK TO NBC
This is not sent for discussion,
if you agree forward it, if you don't, fine, delete it.
I don't want to know one way or the other.
By me forwarding it, you know how I feel.
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I'll bet this was a surprise to NBC.
NBC POLL
Do you believe that the word God should stay in American culture?
NBC this morning had a poll on this question. They had the highest Number of responses that they have ever had for one of their polls, and the Percentage was the same as this:
86% to keep the words,
IN God We Trust and God in the Pledge of Allegiance
14% against
That is a pretty 'commanding' public response.
I was asked to send this on if I agreed or delete if I didn't.
Now it is your turn . .It is said that 86% of Americans believe the word God should stay.
Therefore, I have a very hard time understanding why there is such A mess about having 'In God We Trust' on our money and having God in the Pledge of Allegiance.
Why is the world catering to this 14%?
AMEN!
If you agree, pass this on,
if not, simply delete
In God We Trust
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I suppose I should be grateful that so many women tell me they “don’t want to know one way or the other.” I Snopesed what I received today, and I didn’t plan to pass it on, but, alas, I realize I just did.
This I believe: A lot of people don’t know one way or the other. I may be one of them—I wouldn’t know.
In local news, the new faux logs of the cottage-turned-cabin across the street received a coat of dark stain today. The dwelling is one-of-a-kind in Fjord, I am told. I sort of like it. I picture young Abe Lincoln inside at night, doing schoolwork by firelight, practicing sums with a chunk of coal on a polished shovel face. If the place were mine, I might install a stump in the front yard, sink an ax in it.
The log house is not directly across the street, you know, but one door to the west, pretty much beyond the frame of my front window. I won’t actually be looking at it, except when I sit in the rocker on my front porch, puffing my corn-cob pipe, with my hound dogs at my feet, my banjo on my knee.
New Yorker did not come today. If you read yours on the plane, you’ll be way out ahead of me. I might ask you to read aloud on the road from Milwaukee to Fjord, to help me catch up. That’s if I drive. If you drive, please put the magazine away.
See you soon, Deb. I am eager.
Love, Dave
♦
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