On my way to bring Martin to his little gym class, I was behind a car decorated with bumper stickers that advocated everything I opposed. From politics to religion to the rule of law, it was me, but opposite. I followed this car all the way into the gym’s parking lot, and we parked next to each other. A woman got out with a boy about Martin’s age, who, when he saw us, called, “Hi! Didn’t I tell you that you were my friend last week?” to which Martin replied, “Yes! You were wearing a blue shirt!” They scampered in the door together, took off their shoes, and were off. Blue Shirt’s mother and I said friendly hellos, and aren’t-they-cutes, and then I prepared to leave.
But the aren’t-they-cute talk turned into a discussion of the beauty of 3 year olds making friends, then to why adults couldn’t hold on to that, then to the Jena 6 and the disparity in our country based on race and privilege . . .then to how we re-organized our lives to be home with our kids and how we felt about it . . .to . . . OK, now my little Chris just couldn’t bear the injustice of not being allowed on the trampoline any longer, and I really had to leave. But, barely breaking stride, she pulled out a toy train with eyes from her bag and Chris nearly collapsed with delight. That bought us some more time to get into the negative images of women in advertising . . .
Shame on me for that flicker in my mind wondering what kind of idiot could drive a car plastered with bumper stickers advocating that kind of crap. Well, she could, she does, and she happens to be a kindred spirit in motherhood. Go figure.