Today is Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement in the Jewish religion. You’re supposed to fast all day and think about all the things you did wrong all year. While I’m not Jewish, I was born to it, and my husband and his family are Jewish, and my extended family is Jewish, so a bit of it is in my blood, I suppose. But as far as atonement is concerned, Catholics have the balance about right, with the confession thing. Unitarians go crazy with it – they feel guilty all the time. But the Catholics…just go once a week and get it over with—yeah, that’s about right.
Many years ago, I worked for a Jewish couple who ran an executive recruitment agency out of their very lovely home overlooking the Ashokan Reservoir in Woodstock (they have since moved to Seattle). As the wife was gradually moving away from the business and toward her studies to become a rabbi, I worked more regularly for the husband.
And each Yom Kippur, he would come out to my desk and say, “Whatever I did wrong this year, I’m sorry.”
Excuse me, but Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. That was NOT good enough, by far. I want instances. I want dates, and specifics. I want to know that you know why you should be sorry for what you did.
And I’m sorry I never told him so. There. There is the first of my apologies. And since I have not atoned in a very many years…well, ever…then I better start getting my list together now. I only have until sundown to finish.
And then we’re supposed to eat chicken soup, or something.
So here goes:
• I’m sorry that I didn’t kill Bin Laden when I had the chance.
• I’m sorry that my current hairstyle, long and unkempt with three inches of gray roots, has not yet become a fad.
• I’m really sorry about that whole global warming thing.
• And Al Gore’s beard.
• I’m sorry that I’ve never won Lotto.
• I’m sorry that Pluto is no longer a planet.
• I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more this year to add to Barnes & Noble’s profits.
• And Starbucks’.
• I’m sorry that “Bridges of Madison County” ever made it into print.
• I’m sorry that Paris Hilton has not yet fallen down some elevator shaft.
• I’m sorry for that last uncharitable thought.
• Not really, though.
• I’m sorry that William Shatner was ever allowed to sing.
• I’m sorry for every guy in a red shirt who ever beamed down with the Enterprise crew.
• I’m sorry for Astroturf.
• And the designated hitter rule.
• And the Atlanta Braves’ “tomahawk chop” chant.
• I’m sorry for Donald Trump’s hair.
• I’m sorry the Red Sox didn’t make it into the post season.
• I’m sorry for not rock rappelling down the side of a cliff face when I had the chance.
• I’m sorry I’ve forgotten about 95% of the French I learned in school.
• I’m sorry that somebody thought I needed to learn Calculus.
• I’m sorry that I ever drank that purple stuff in the punch bowl.
• I’m sorry for that whole reality TV concept (except for Survivor and American Idol, of course)
• I’m sorry that people think it matters if Tom Cruise is or isn’t gay. (Anyone want to place a bet? Anyone?)
• I’m sorry for Vanilla Ice.
• I’m sorry that Robert Downey, Jr. will be playing Iron Man in the movie.
• I’m sorry that Sean Connery can’t play Bond forever.
• I’m sorry Ted Turner colorized all those old movies.
• What was he thinking?
• What was Jane Fonda thinking?
• I’m sorry Bill Gates never lived up to his potential.
• I’m sorry for that ball that went between Bill Buckner’s legs.
• But not really, now that I’m more of a Mets fan.
• I’m sorry that most of our elected officials are schmucks.
• But then again, we voted for them.
Well, I guess that’s enough to see me through the next…oh, 45 years or so.
The sun is going down. Pass the matzoh balls, will you?
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