Forgiveness, Please!

A few days ago, I told my boss that I may have to take some time off from work because my grandmother's cancer has returned and it's terminal. Maybe she forgot about it. Maybe she didn't understand what I told her. Maybe she's just plain mean. Whatever she is, she thought it was okay to send me an e-mail joke about St. Patrick's day:

Subject: St. Pat's Joke

An Irishman named O'Malley went to his doctor. The doctor, after an examination, sighed and said, "I've some bad news. You have cancer, and you'd best put your affairs in order."

O'Malley was shocked, but managed to compose himself and walk into the waiting room, where his son had been waiting. "Well son, we Irish celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go well. In this case, things are not well. I have cancer. Let's head to the pub and have a few pints. "After three or four pints, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more beers. Some of O'Malley's old friends, who were curious as to what the two were celebrating, eventually approached them.

O'Malley told his friends they were drinking to his impending end. "I have been diagnosed with AIDS." The friends gave O'Malley their condolences, and they had a couple of more beers. After the friends left, O'Malley's son leaned over and whispered, "Dad, I thought you said you were dying of cancer, and you just told your friends you were dying of AIDS."

O'Malley said, "I know. I don't want any of them sleeping with your mother after I'm gone."

First of all, I don't see how anyone would think that a joke about cancer or AIDS would be tasteful. I don't recall ever seeing a stand up routine with jokes about either subject. Comedians just fucking know better than that. Second, the joke wasn't even about St. Patrick's day! It was about an Irish man named O'Malley. Not only was the joke distasteful, it was also misleading and slightly racist.

I am going to take the high road and I will just let her know that the joke offended me without going ape shit on her. My grandmother was always afraid that I had Satan in me, and she'd be a little upset to know that I read someone for something as insignificant as sending an offensive joke to me. She always used to get on my case when I was a teenager because I wasted so much time, and I shouldn't waste any more dealing with stupid shit. She also used to tell me to forgive and forget. That was when I rolled my eyes and turned the volume up on my walkman.

Forgiving someone, like my science teacher when I bent over to pick up a piece of paper on the floor, is very hard (Thanks, Foxxy!). It really is difficult to forgive someone who has wronged you, but I hear that the rewards are super fantastic. You get to move on with your life, free from the burden of grudges. I just don't do it that often because I start to feel like one of those Christian missionaries who goes to the Philippines to tame the savage Taliban cels in the jungles. It'll take me a few days to get over the phony St. Patrick's day joke, but I'll move on... and I'll be great.