It’s in the back of his closet, quietly waiting for the next revolution.
it first appeared back in the early ‘70s. rick was a bit of a rebel back then. the vietnam war was winding down, but a political divide had split the nation. i know, i know, hard to imagine these days.
those were tense times, made more so when rick showed up at the parents’ house one day wearing an american flag shirt. dad was outraged.
in those days, wearing a flag was seen as a sign of blatant protest against the establishment, before the whole american-flag clothing thing was appropriated by the right wing, much like long hair, electric guitars and psychedelic mushrooms.
dad, his face the color of the flag’s red portion (apparently not a violation of the flag code), told rick he could NOT wear it. so of course it became his favorite shirt. rick was never much of a hippie, but he loved to question authority when needed. it became his form of button-down civil protest.
i suppose it worked. the war ended without us having to burn our draft cards. rick became a newspaper columnist and a voice for little people and lost dogs. the shirt went in the closet, its job done.
i hadn’t thought about that shirt in forever till i saw it in the closet yesterday. i asked June about it. “yep, that one’s a keeper,” was all she said.
Sometimes in life you have to take a stand. Attend a rally. Join a movement. Burn something. Raise some hell. Do Something.
i don’t know where our nation is headed. but it’s good to know the shirt is still there, waiting. just in case.
Vive la révolution …