Deem: (v) to form or have an opinion; judge; think

Probably a half-a-dozen meetings. Maybe flirtin’ with ten.

I’m talking about occasions where people gathered to discuss, mull over, muse and fester in their souls, considering what they deem appropriate.

It’s dangerous business.

The word “appropriate” should never be introduced into human relationships, for the minute we think we have found the borders, somebody will break down the fence.

And when you add the idea to “deem,” there is an arrogance that comes along with it which promotes the concept that one human being can decide for many.

I don’t care if I’m reading a history book, a cookbook or the Bible—someone has preceded me and made conclusions about what they decided to deem essential.

It’s not a question of whether they’re right or wrong. It’s an issue of if we can lasso the word “deem” and make sure it is not allowed to run amuck, horsing around with everything we do.

I don’t know what I deem appropriate.

I know what makes me uncomfortable. But that used to be calamari, and now I sop it up.

I’m fickle.

I can be convinced.

Actually, I’m capable of mercy.

And when you’re a “deemer,” mercy is not the question, but rather, propriety.

I guess you’d have to ask if God, the Almighty One Himself, deems.

Or is He a daddy, driving down the road in his SUV, allowing the kids to scream and play—just as long as they don’t hurt each other?