Silent Revolution
I’ve noticed a quiet trend recently.
In the 2000 election season, many cars on the road proudly boasted their driver’s allegiance to one or the other presidential candidate. For many months afterward, even as long as two years, cars tooled about still decorated with sloganeering. By the middle of 2001, when war became an issue, the slogans morphed into those inane yellow ribbon-thingies, further morphing into the puerile patriotism we’ve come to know.
During the elections of 2004, the sticker shock heightened into furor; the cars I witnessed in the battleground state of Wisconsin were boldly festooned with pro-whomever, cheap-shots-at-the-other-guy, all in red, white and blue. Many gas-guzzlers in evidence were pro-Bush, while the Kerry crowd drove smaller, sometimes older cars, carefully. What this says about the drivers of those vehicles, I’ll leave to your imagination.
Here’s the trend part: Today, very few cars boast bumper stickers or ribbons of any sort. Many signs of patrician patriotism have, like the weathered ribbons, faded. I see very few “W” ovals and only a couple of Kerry/Edwards rectangles in evidence; fewer and fewer ribbons risk exposure to the elements. Somewhere on a quiet suburban night, one can hear – if listening carefully – the susurration of vinyl implements removing political afflictions from trusty steeds.
This is such a quiet revolution, this unstickering of America. What strikes me most is how soon after the last election the colors are fading: one year only. The last time I saw anyone plummet as far and fast as Our Favorite Shrubbery is, she was on a roller coaster. While I fantasize that all the “W” voters have repented, I know better; “Once bitten, twice shy” would be a good rule about now, but humans aren’t that logical. Nevertheless, this reversal of shirtsleeve patriotism shows people are beginning to think again.
And that can’t be a bad thing.