The Tackiness One Only Gets By Going to College
Over at Ambivalent Imbroglio, Ambimb boiled my blood. I think I've mentioned before that my father was in Vietnam. Well, he returned before I was born, but oddly the shadow of that shaped my youth a great deal more than one might expect. From the time I was young, my mother would tell me stories of his time away: how they met for R&R in Hawaii (she still loves the memory of it there), how she once ordered 300 hamburgers from a McDonalds while he was in basic training (don't ask), and then a few darker tales, because not all children's stories should be nice. On the desk in my father's room is a disarmed mortar that has a story to it, a story that would be told whenever he and any other Vietnam vet were together in the house. Don't get me wrong. These aren't my tales, and I'm too young to be a part of them. But they're very, very real to me.
So as I'm taking a break from the Note (page seven!) and wandering over to Ambimb's, I see this written about the yellow ribbons on some people's cars:
Brilliant, don�t you think? Support our troops by driving around with a magnet that orders everyone else to support our troops, and if you decide you no longer feel like supporting our troops (whatever that means), just remove the magnet! Support support support! And the real genius of the whole thing is that the damned things are made in Taiwan (at least the ones I saw in stores) and every penny of profit on them is going to a handful of private individuals who don�t give a damn about any troops except insofar as the idea of those troops can be exploited for private gain.Support our troops! Support our troops! Support our troops!
Damned ribbons.
Sometimes thoughtless words strike deeper than they should. Forget the fact that yellow ribbons are supposed to be removed. (That's the whole point.) What does it matter that these are made in Taiwan? And what right does anyone who doesn't know the person who owns the bumper in front of them have to cast aspersion's on how serious or heartfelt that person's feelings might be?
So I called him out on it. (See his comment section.) To which I got this reply:
The ribbons just strike me as a shallow and relatively thoughtless way to express an opinion that is ambiguous, at best.And on the subject of moral superiority, it appears there's plenty of moral superiority to go around for both those who support and those who oppose the Iraq war/occupation. I think there's some moral high ground in the idea of elected leaders being truthful, honest, and open with their constitutents, rather than lying, deceiving, and acting in secret against them. You might agree. Or not. The beautiful thing is we can both be right because, in George Bush's America, there is no spoon.
Yes. Because this is all about George Bush. It's King George's War, and if one of your loved ones happens to be in it, then God forbid you express support for them: after all, it's a war of a lying, deceiving, secretive president. Just like when my Mom was missing my Dad, she was actually flacking for Goldwater and Nixon. I'm afraid I lost my temper:
Let me share with you something that happened to me on a drive recently. I stopped in a gas station near Grand Rapids and (since I was filling up a van) had a bit of time to look around the lot. Across from me was an SUV--a type of vehicle I'm really not fond of--with a yellow ribbon magnet on it. After a few minutes of filling up, another guy came over from the pump and started talking to the SUV owner, a middle-aged white woman."Got someone over there?"
To which the woman nodded, and the two started a very pleasant and chirpy conversation about their children: where they were serving, what part of the military, etc. I won't pretend to remember the details, but it was one of the more touching moments of my vacation.
Now, I don't know what that ribbon communicates when I see it on the car of someone I don't know. I'm afraid that whatever the existence of spoons, knives, forks, or other kitchen implements in an America that apparently now belongs to one man following an election, I'm not privy to other people's thoughts. Whether something's a magnet or a sticker doesn't tell me a damn thing about the permanence, depth, or thoughtfulness of their heart. But I rather suspect that a number of military families put those on their cars for the traditional reason: because they hope their loved ones will come back. I imagine some others do so because they hope the loved ones of others come back in one piece. Maybe they don't--maybe it has something to do with the country of manufacture of the magnet. But color me charitable to them in imagining that their expressions are no less thoughtful than mine. Maybe you know better.
In the meantime, I think about two middle-aged parents freezing in a parking lot talking about children in sun-bleached sands, and I think about the snide way you're dismissing they way they signalled each other, and I really don't give a fuck about your spoon.
I don't care how much someone despises Bush and his politics. I don't care how much a liberal thinks the war is wrong-headed. I don't care if you think that yellow-ribbons are only sported on the cars of redneck, NASCAR-lovin', red state yahoos that you never want at your dinner table. (Though I truly doubt this is so.) In fact, I don't even care if the statistical majority of people with removable decals on the back of their cars put them there out of thoughtlessness, jingoism, or whatever unclean motive you care to attribute to them.
Someone put a yellow ribbon on their car because he's staying up late at night wondering if his child's mother will come back whole. Someone's yellow ribbon means their son's letter hasn't gotten through in a while, and they're worried. Someone's yellow ribbon got put there because every time they see it, they remember this moment.
That's enough. It's enough to make the mockery meaningless and the mockers less so.
Comments
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