The letter came in the mail, a plain white business size envelope, your standard #10. It was addressed to me, and it came from the pastor of the church. “Ah,” I thought, “he’s kicking me out of Catholicism, and I can now sleep on Sunday mornings.”
It was a letter inviting me to kick around some ideas for fund raising with him. Reading and hearing about how bad the economy is treating the local parish, I felt the guilt and decided to attend his meeting.
Arriving on time, Father Dan, a rolly polly built man, and I both rolled up to the table and sat down. There was a small group of us, and they all seemed eager. There was a list of thirty items, which had been suggested to the priest, and he laid it out for each of us. One thing that was missing was a golf tournament. I made a big mistake: I spoke up!
Stupid: “How come there is no mention of a golf tournament? I know they are good fund-raisers, having started one, once?”
Father Dan: “When can you start to organize it? And, thanks for chairing it.”
Stupid: “I, uh, that is, errr, I guess as soon as possible.”
There were no cookies, and no coffee at this meeting, only prospects for hard work.
If someone knows, would you please let me know how I can keep my big mouth shut?
2 comments:
Don't ask me, my foot is usually in mine! Looking forward to seeing you on Thanksgiving.
Love,
Fran
Let me know if the tournament gets scheduled. I'd love to play.
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