Sunday, October 16, 2005
Ribbons. A ribbon of sunlight flittered through the trees outside my bedroom window this morning. My squinching open eye noted it was the first sunlight New England has seen in nine days. I follow the ribbon of light down the hallway to the coffee heard brewing in the kitchen and pour a steaming ribbon of caffeine into my mug -- the one with the almost completly worn off logo of the company I used to work for. The sunny garden beckons but the wooden chairs outside are still water-logged and instead I sink into a leather chair to contemplate the ragged ribbon of water that has run down the middle of our newly painted living room. The water found its way through the loose flashing around the chimney and dripped into a blue bucket atop the mahogany mantle. The number of phone calls that will have to be made (not to mention money spent) to restore the ceiling begins to ruin my Sunday peace. I opt to swing into jeans and drive by Starbuck's for the NY Times Sunday paper. A ribbon of random brain function accompanies me the mile drive to Starbucks: I should have walked; it's beautiful outside. Maybe I shouldn't have used the F***-word last night when speaking briefly to the son. But god is he a selfish lout. I wonder how Friend who just had her thyroid removed is doing today. And then: Where have all the yellow ribbons gone, I wonder? The magnetic ones that read 'Support our Troops' it seemed everybody had on the backside of their car a few months ago.
Put into the context of there being a certain novelty to the stickers being magnetic, and the fact that innumerable numbers of otherwise intelligent people were still drinking the administration's 'framing'-of-the-war Kool-aid a few months ago, the gesture to stick a magnet on the back of your gas-guzzling SUV can be understood. The stickers were also ambiguous enough (unlike say: God Bless Our Troops or God Bless America) that you couldn't be sure whether the person was supporting just the troops, or the war, or both. But to remove the sticker? What is the ribbon of rationale behind that? Think about it: you have to walk out to your driveway, stand behind your car, and make a conscious decision to peel away the 'Support Our Troops' magnet. Is it dirty? Is the sun fading the yellow? Do you now not support the troops anymore? Or the war? And what then do you do with the magnet once it is in your hand? Throw it away? Stick it in your glove compartment? Report it stolen? It's as if people's convictions have become as impermanent as the bond that joins a paper clip to a magnetic holder: easily removed between thumb and index finger.
Put into the context of there being a certain novelty to the stickers being magnetic, and the fact that innumerable numbers of otherwise intelligent people were still drinking the administration's 'framing'-of-the-war Kool-aid a few months ago, the gesture to stick a magnet on the back of your gas-guzzling SUV can be understood. The stickers were also ambiguous enough (unlike say: God Bless Our Troops or God Bless America) that you couldn't be sure whether the person was supporting just the troops, or the war, or both. But to remove the sticker? What is the ribbon of rationale behind that? Think about it: you have to walk out to your driveway, stand behind your car, and make a conscious decision to peel away the 'Support Our Troops' magnet. Is it dirty? Is the sun fading the yellow? Do you now not support the troops anymore? Or the war? And what then do you do with the magnet once it is in your hand? Throw it away? Stick it in your glove compartment? Report it stolen? It's as if people's convictions have become as impermanent as the bond that joins a paper clip to a magnetic holder: easily removed between thumb and index finger.
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