The other day I got a handful of mail from my son-in-law Nicolas. Two that caught my eye were from a couple of groups I wasn’t aware of even existed. So, I read them and promptly threw both into the trash.
Apparently after I gift a bequest on behalf of Uncle Hal who passed away last January to the VFW, I was thrown into this mailing list. I guess their thinking being that I too was a Conservative of like mind as my uncle was. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
Both were pro Trump pitches that asked my opinion and to sign some petition on another praising his agenda to ban DEI and mass deport all brown-skinned illegal aliens taking away white American jobs.
If they knew the real Jerry Schellhammer, they wouldn’t have bothered wasting postage and copy paper for me. The result would have been the same; round file. I was both insulted and offended by the language that was blatantly racist in its intent.
I considered writing them a friendly, or not so friendly letter back detailing my wokeness, my liberal bias, my belief in treating everyone fairly as I would like to be treated. These direct marketing PACs or whatever they claimed to be should have done some research on me first, bought and read A Man’s Passion, This Life: My Life After My Stroke, and my other books and short stories and blogs, and realized I’m not what they assumed I was.
Jerry Schellhammer 