America v. The Black Quarterback

I LOVE AMERICA!  THERE IS NO PLACE I WOULD RATHER LIVE!  I AM GRATEFUL TO OUR VETERANS!  I STAND, WITH HAND OVER HEART, DURING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM!  ROCKY IV IS MY FAVORITE ROCKY MOVIE, I SWEAR!  Sorry for the shouting, sometimes it is the only way to be heard these days.  I needed to get those five points on the record lest readers assume that my less-than-full-throated endorsement of EVERYTHING about America signals a hatred of my homeland.   Nuance seems less appreciated in an era when sledgehammers and earplugs are our favored tools of debate.  In the case of America v. The Black Quarterback there seems to be two different debates emerging, at least on Twitter and the Meme-fest called Facebook.  One, more closely related to the discourse Colin Kaepernick hoped to stoke about race, has centered on the level of oppression a millionaire can feel.  The second, which has many with their red, white, and blue panties in a bunch, focuses on what it means to be patriotic.  To be honest, Kaepernick lost me when he showed up to his press conference in a Fidel Castro t-shirt and spouted vague generalities.  He may not be the best representative for his concerns.  That doesn't mean the two debates are not worth discussing.

I'm not here to argue about the shooting of unarmed black men by police.  The news, video, and statistics speak for themselves.  There is a problem.  Instead, I want to know why people feel a millionaire quarterback shouldn't stand up (or in this case, sit down) to oppression.  The same people that rip Kaepernick's non-violent protest rail against other forms of Black Lives Matter protesting.  Better he should block traffic or throw bricks at cops?  Or, maybe, he should simply know his place and shut up.  After all, what does he know about oppression?  He's just a guy who gets paid millions of dollars to play a game, right?  Being a millionaire athlete does not make you immune to mistreatment.  Former pro tennis player James Blake was mistakenly arrested and assaulted by the NYPD last year.  His millions and privilege didn't protect him from police overreach.  I, for one, respect Colin Kaepernick for taking his stance.  In the face of backlash, ridicule, and possible loss of endorsements  he is using his platform as a (minor) celebrity to give voice to an issue about which he feels strongly.  A voice that may not be heard otherwise.  Agree or disagree with his premise, he deserves credit for willing to shine a light despite the ensuing reaction.

The more troubling aspect of the Kaepernick Sit-Down is the notion that you're with America or you're against us.  I know, there is that pesky nuance I was talking about earlier.  Yes, the flag and the national anthem are symbols representing the United States, and her citizens, including those that have died fighting to protect her and her citizens.  Yes, I stand during the anthem and honor the flag.  The flag is emblematic of our resilience, generosity, ingenuity, and leadership.  It represents freedom and hope.  It is shorthand for The American Dream.  So, yes, I stand for the anthem and honor the flag.  But my standing is not a blank check.  My standing is not a blind loyalty.  My standing is not an endorsement of everything "American."  Awful things have been done by men and women wearing American flags on their lapels or on their shoulders.  Terrible decisions have been made in buildings over which that banner waves.  I can simultaneously be thankful for our veterans and question the actions of our government. I understand why someone may sit during the anthem or stay silent during the Pledge of Allegiance.  It's not my choice, but I understand.  It doesn't make those objectors "un-American."  It doesn't mean they don't love their country.  It doesn't mean they should leave.  It doesn't make them bad people.  It means they disagree and, last I checked, that was still legal.  If your entire measure of a person is whether he stands during the national anthem, may I suggest that it is you who should rethink your priorities.    

Supplies!

The looming specter has arrived.  It's Decision Time.  Choices we make in the coming days will provoke arguments and turn family members against one another.  Our selections will have lasting ramifications.  Debating and bargaining will make you question everything.  As Summer melts into Autumn, we must face our fears and do that which we know must be done.  Election Season?  Fantasy Football draft?  No, Back to School Shopping. 

Why do I dread back to school shopping?  It is pretty simple, really.  I love my kid.  I kinda love shopping.  I do not love shopping WITH my kid.  Grace and I have varied ideas of shopping.  I'm a cheapskate that enters a store focused, with a list, hoping to leave with some bargains.  Grace, having precious little concept of time or money, enters hoping to leave with, well, everything.  When Grace goes shopping her normal inclination is to show as much restraint as Donald Trump without a Teleprompter.  She wants every granola bar/stuffed animal/sparkly sandals/bottle of Gatorade we walk past.  I reel her in reminding her of the difference between needs and wants, while simultaneously now really wanting one of those damn granola bars I just made her put back on the shelf.  Usually, Amanda - Wife, Mother, Master Negotiator- is present to serve as a buffer.  This year, because I'm an idiot, I donned my red, white, and blue leather jumpsuit and Evil Knievel-ed the shit out of back to school shopping while Amanda was out of town.  Grace and I didn't exactly crash at the bottom of the Snake River Canyon, but it was exhausting nonetheless. 

Maybe it was exhausting because we have hit those dog days of summer when parental patience runs thin. Grace and I have done a ton of fun stuff this Summer, but two months of playing cruise director and head counselor at Camp Dad has left me tired, my creativity tapped. 

"Attention Campers- Today's activities include: whatever you come up with.  You'll find the television remote and a box of Ritz crackers in the center of the living room floor.  See you in September!"

Beleaguered, weary from motivating summer reading, traversing highways, and finding sand everywhere, we parents stumble towards the finish line.  Eager for school to start, yet knowing we have this one more task to complete before Day One. 

For our family, school shopping has two parts: uniforms and supplies.  I guess I should be thankful that Grace wears uniforms.  Otherwise, with her indecision and unlimited options, I would never make it out of the clothing store.   Even with fewer choices, there are still sizes, colors, styles and prices to navigate.  Shorts or skirts?  Long sleeve or short?  Light blue or dark?  Even though we I devised a game plan, Grace would happily pick one of each and duplicates for good measure. 

Game Plan?

Damn right, there is a game plan.  How are you going to know what you need if you haven't done a proper prior assessment?  Before heading out, I made Grace try on every piece of uniform from last year to see what is salvageable from first grade.  If an article of clothing wasn't stained or too small we didn't need to replace it.  (Note to self: Make her buy all navy blue so stains don't show.)  I'm not saying I made a chart of all her uniforms, but if you don't go into that store informed you are going to be overmatched.  I don't have all day to wrestle stacks of khaki pants. 

Part Two is where Grace and I really butted heads.  For weeks, every time we walked through Walmart or Target, Grace would beg me to pick out school supplies.  Those giant bins of notebooks in the aisle called to her with a siren song.  She asked to look at back packs in each store we walked through.  And, of course,  you need cute, dangly things to clip to your back pack.  The buying of the supplies truly does irk me.  I don't mind buying sanitizer or tissues for the classroom, but why does Grace need a brand new box of crayons when we have a basket of 643 broken (but usable) ones at home?  Why a specific set of blue folders?  Blue shirts.  Blue folders.  Is she going to school in a mushroom?  Watching Grace select her supplies makes the task more tedious.  She stands contemplating the wall of supplies as if she were examining a work of art in a museum.  Looking over the details of each white board marker as if her life depended on selecting the correct one.  I've seen her make faster selections at a boardwalk arcade prize counter.  (Where I usually pray we have enough tickets to purchase a recliner in which I can relax while she leisurely spends her remaining tickets.)  Each item becomes a negotiating point.  She requests a six-pack of glue sticks; I counter with two.  She picks up a new pencil case; not when she has three at home.  She asks to buy the $7 markers; I say yes, as long as, this week, she uses the toilet paper that your hand pokes through when you wipe.  I'm kidding.  Sort of.  Back and forth we spar until I want to simply hand her my debit card and go wait in the car.  Finally, we make it to the car armed with all we'll need for second grade having spent more than the game plan, but (a little) less than I would pay for a boat. 

We reach the car in time to take a phone call from Out-of-Town Mommy who, with a hint of sadness in her voice says wistfully, "Oh, school shopping.  I like to do that with her."

Somebody hand me my Evil Knievel helmet, I need to go bang my head against a wall.