I never fancied myself the bumper sticker kind. In fact, I blatantly
and unfairly criticized those who were. It might even be fair to say that I was
adamantly opposed to bumper stickers. The sticky residue that never seems to
fully come off was just one of the many weapons in my arsenal of arguments
against them. My opposition was often verbal and sometimes just downright
offensive. I once proudly deemed bumper stickers “The tramp-stamps of the
automotive industry”.
I guess it wasn’t the idea itself which I was against… I
suppose I’m all for you supporting whatever it is that you felt passionate
enough to share with the stranger behind you. Hell, this country was founded upon
life, liberty, and voicing your freedom of speech in four-by-four inch flair. My
opposition to bumper stickers was fueled largely by the same principle that
facilitates my love/hate relationship with reality television – freedom of
speech and expression from the idiots will always eclipse that of the well-informed
and insightful.
It is because of these “idiots” that I really hope visitors
do not find the highway or walmart parking lot to be a great microcosm for
American culture. For American politics? Sure. The “some village in Texas is
missing their idiot” sticker next to the “I’ll take my freedom, guns, and
money, you can keep the change” sticker might help to explain why Congress is
tackling steroids in baseball as opposed to passing legislature.
Then there is my personal favorite, the stick figure family
with the names below them. These will come in handy should I ever be quizzed on
what the owner of the blue Kia’s family would look like on a 1/1,000 scale. I’m
glad they include the dog as well – I simply would not have made it through
this drive had I not have figured out your dog’s name. Oh your “son is honor roll”? This is going to
be awkward if there’s a fender bender with the guy whose son “kicked your honor
roll student’s ass”.
I always wondered what kind of event would evoke enough emotion to
drive someone to either impair their blind-spot or risk their paint-job. I
guess in hindsight I should have been envious of their passion, but I swore
that would never be me. I stayed true to this mantra until I left the Northeast
a little over two years ago.
After an incredible experience as a resident of South
Carolina I moved to Indiana to further my career. While I had the battery
sunset engraved in my mind and the faint sound of the southern accents ringing
in my ears, I still felt like my identity as a Carolinian was fading all too
quickly. I felt like people knew me based on who I am, but many did not know
why I am the way I am. Much of that identity was created through past
experiences, South Carolina included. I suppose I felt indebted to the Palmetto
State for what it had shared for me and who it had made me. It is because of
these experiences that I crossed my former beliefs and purchased the most
recognizable South Carolina attribute to stick on the back of my trailblazer –
the palmetto and moon.
The Palmetto bumper sticker proved to be the gateway drug.
For Christmas this year my mother inadvertently summed up my regional loyalty
by including a Boston Bruins sticker in my stocking. For me, out of all the
Boston sports franchises the Bruins have best represented the people of New
England… loyal, hard working, gritty, appreciative, and consistent. Maybe a
little hard-edged at first, but ultimately loving and caring. Up until last
year the Bruins were the only major New England sports franchise that had not
enjoyed the fruits of their labor by capturing their respective championship
over the past decade. The 2011 Stanley Cup Championship was more than just a
sports win for me, it was a two month stretch where despite being 1,000 miles
away from my family and friends, for two hours each night we were parked in
front of the same program, listening to the same voices, and screaming and
celebrating in unison. While living in six states in six years and traveling
five months out of the year in and out of hotels, the broadcast by Jack Edwards
and Andy Brickley was home to me. A few weeks ago I proclaimed my allegiance to
my home away from home by slapping that Bruins sticker on a corner of my rear
window.
Finally, the most common sight in the bumper sticker world
is the omnipotent yet ambiguous acronym sticker. I’m convinced that deciphering
what the three letter acronym on the car in front of you means and trying to
get close enough to read the explanation below is responsible for more
accidents than texting and driving is. ACK, IRE, MV, LI, HI… I’ve seen fewer abbreviations
in a teenage text message. I definitely swore off these ones for life. That was
until I found myself in a gift shop on Block Island last week…
I’ve been blessed with an incredible family. Each and every
year for the 4th of July we all come together to celebrate our
Countries independence on the small island of Block Island off the Rhode Island
coast. With all of us scattered across the map this serves as the only time we
can really all be together. From cousins to aunts and uncles, grandmothers to
great aunts, we all put our daily stresses aside and just enjoy each other for
three or four wonderful days. We dance away the night and lay out and talk
amongst each other during the day. Block Island represents my family, and is a
constant reminder to me that my family has had a tremendous influence in making
me the person who I am today.
So I picked up the BI sticker with the infamous island
outline sketch and stretched it across the naked side of my window.
Maybe I am hoping that someone else will see the sticker and
have a story to share with me about where they were when the Bruins won the
cup, what their favorite beach on Block Island is, or what is the best
restaurant in Charleston. Or maybe I’m just proud enough of the people and
places that make up those stickers and the profound impact they’ve had on me.
I guess I’d have to consider myself a bumper sticker kinda
guy now. And as a bumper sticker guy I guess I have to stand up for my people
by saying, it’s the story behind the sticker that justifies the flair…
A Block Island Afternoon...
