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Forgiveness Day
James Austin Kerr |
The heights this small idea was attaining were dizzying to its creator.
His small boutique advertising agency was receiving attention like never before.
He put his head down on the drawing board and tried to excise the phone calls,
the articles, the radio interviews from his sleep-deprived consciousness.
What had started as a public service campaign for a little known department
of trade and commerce was taking on gargantuan import. All he had asked
in the pitch to them was: "If February 14 is Valentine's Day and April 22 is
Earth Day, why couldn't March 1st be Forgiveness Day?" But his clear intent
had been to generate commerce not communion. A day in which the Colonel of
Chicken redeemed coupons from the Clown of Hamburgers and vice-versa,
Ford honored rebates from Chevy, and Pepsi drinkers shared soda pop and sales with
Coca-Cola's thirsty base. How had it evolved into a day without bombs in the Gaza strip,
a repast between Koreans on either side of the enforced boundaries, Cub fans
coming to terms with White Sox exuberants, the mending of fences between
warring neighbors, Dems and Repubs breaking bread not promises and ex-spouses all but making love with their formers? How indeed,
he thought, and now his estranged brother was on the telephone and his secretary
was asking if he wanted to take the call. The reprobate! What he had cost his siblings
in the sale of their late mother's house by bringing in his own attorney and demanding
what he considered "transparent" terms that were brazenly stacked in his favor and
which had postponed indefinitely the courting of prospective buyers. The gall to call
now on World Forgiveness Day!
He raised his head from the drawing board and said to Andrea: "Tell him I'll
talk to him." He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee and leaned his head back.
The faint buzz sounded on his extension. He pressed the speaker mode.
"Good morning, dear bro'" came his brother's smooth voice. There was a cynical tone
to its good humor. "How are you on this historic first Forgiveness Day?"
"Tired," came the succinct response. "Too many interviews, too little sleep,
not enough peace."
"But, brother, that is not accurate. There is peace in the world thanks to you."
"An armistice for one day. Nestle loves Hershey, NBC loves CBS and--"
"And brother loves brother?'
He did not answer right away, then straightened in his chair. "Okay, brother
loves prodigal brother. What do you want of me now?"
"I want you to let me buy you lunch."
He thought it over, said: "I'm too exhausted to decline. Where are you now?"
"In the lobby of your building."
He raised himself with great effort.
"Just remember this, though, baby brother, tomorrow is the day after the inaugural
Forgiveness Day."
"End of ceasefire so soon?"
"We'll see." He grabbed his topcoat from the antique stand. There was still a
wintry chill in the air. Outside and inside, he thought, laughing to himself.
Forgiveness Day the world over.
We'll see, we'll see.
His small boutique advertising agency was receiving attention like never before.
He put his head down on the drawing board and tried to excise the phone calls,
the articles, the radio interviews from his sleep-deprived consciousness.
What had started as a public service campaign for a little known department
of trade and commerce was taking on gargantuan import. All he had asked
in the pitch to them was: "If February 14 is Valentine's Day and April 22 is
Earth Day, why couldn't March 1st be Forgiveness Day?" But his clear intent
had been to generate commerce not communion. A day in which the Colonel of
Chicken redeemed coupons from the Clown of Hamburgers and vice-versa,
Ford honored rebates from Chevy, and Pepsi drinkers shared soda pop and sales with
Coca-Cola's thirsty base. How had it evolved into a day without bombs in the Gaza strip,
a repast between Koreans on either side of the enforced boundaries, Cub fans
coming to terms with White Sox exuberants, the mending of fences between
warring neighbors, Dems and Repubs breaking bread not promises and ex-spouses all but making love with their formers? How indeed,
he thought, and now his estranged brother was on the telephone and his secretary
was asking if he wanted to take the call. The reprobate! What he had cost his siblings
in the sale of their late mother's house by bringing in his own attorney and demanding
what he considered "transparent" terms that were brazenly stacked in his favor and
which had postponed indefinitely the courting of prospective buyers. The gall to call
now on World Forgiveness Day!
He raised his head from the drawing board and said to Andrea: "Tell him I'll
talk to him." He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee and leaned his head back.
The faint buzz sounded on his extension. He pressed the speaker mode.
"Good morning, dear bro'" came his brother's smooth voice. There was a cynical tone
to its good humor. "How are you on this historic first Forgiveness Day?"
"Tired," came the succinct response. "Too many interviews, too little sleep,
not enough peace."
"But, brother, that is not accurate. There is peace in the world thanks to you."
"An armistice for one day. Nestle loves Hershey, NBC loves CBS and--"
"And brother loves brother?'
He did not answer right away, then straightened in his chair. "Okay, brother
loves prodigal brother. What do you want of me now?"
"I want you to let me buy you lunch."
He thought it over, said: "I'm too exhausted to decline. Where are you now?"
"In the lobby of your building."
He raised himself with great effort.
"Just remember this, though, baby brother, tomorrow is the day after the inaugural
Forgiveness Day."
"End of ceasefire so soon?"
"We'll see." He grabbed his topcoat from the antique stand. There was still a
wintry chill in the air. Outside and inside, he thought, laughing to himself.
Forgiveness Day the world over.
We'll see, we'll see.
