Dear Sirs and/or Madames,
My Postman mentioned to Me this morning that much of My correspondence seems to be a bit on the complainy side. On reflection, I realized that I sometimes sound like that crotchety neighbor who smokes a pipe and writes Letters to the Editor about “These Kids Today” and “Dogs Relieving Themselves on the Lawn”. So, I thought a congratulatory postcard was in order.
I was invited to watch your 4th of July fireworks by a nice young couple in Brooklyn, and since I was in town on vacation, I accepted. I brought My famous “Gawd Surprise”, (the surprise being that it was a coffee cake I bought at the Rite Aide on the way over), and we congregated on the roof to watch your display. It was wonderful. Standing there, in the light of the red-colored rockets and mid-air explosions, (to coin a phrase), I almost felt as if this was My country. Of course, your Founding Fathers didn’t think so, but perhaps they’d never seen one of your magnificent fireworks extravaganzas. At one point, someone behind Me did say they could feel Gawd; and I promptly apologized for stepping on his foot. Afterwards, we talked about the things you talk about on Independence Day; politics and where to find good red velvet cake in Manhattan. All in all, an excellent evening and I extend My warmest thanks.
Of course, getting to and from was reminiscent of traversing the Rings of Hell. I should write a sternly-worded note to the MTA…
Wish You Were Here,