Sunday is laundry day in the Foust household. They are rebuilding the laundry room in my apartment complex, so I’ve been going to a nearby laundry mat the past few months. While I was working on my Joe Crookston blog this past Sunday, a man asked me about the vanity plate on the front of my car. It’s a COEXIST plate, similar to the below image. Below is an estimation of our conversation:
Guy: “Is that one of those Scientology symbols?”
Me: “It’s more of a ‘can’t we all just get along’ sort of message. There’s the crescent for Islam, peace sign, male and female symbols, Star of David for Judaism, pentacle for Paganism, yin-yang for Eastern spiritualties, and cross for Christianity. All sorts of people live together, so we’d better learn to get along.”
Guy: “I don’t see things quite that way. All those different people may live here, but we don’t have to like it. You could keep “them” over there…”
Me: “How do you keep American citizens “over there”? All of those symbols can be associated with Americans.”
Guy: “The only reason “they” are Americans is because “they” came over here from somewhere else.”
Me: “So did you! *laughing a bit* Once upon a time your grandparents or someone came from Germany, England…”
Guy: “Mostly Ireland for my family.”
Me: “See? Unless you are a Native American, you ultimately came from somewhere else too.”
Guy: “You got me there.” *with a sheepish grin on his face*
He goes back to his laundry, and I go back to my blog post…
The discussion never got heated. It was clear that we weren’t quite on the same page at first, and by the end it seemed that he was at least thinking about the message behind the vanity plate. I might not have truly changed his mind, but it was a cool exchange nonetheless…
I also did some cleaning on Sunday, and as we all know a bottle of beer makes the cleaning go down (sung to the tune of “A Spoonful of Sugar.”). So I ventured to Publix to obtain some delicious Angry Orchard cider. I overheard a little boy say, “Girls aren’t supposed to have tattoos,” as I walked down an aisle in my tank top. I smiled and kept walking. I didn’t hear what the dad said, if anything. I couldn’t find what I was looking for (a spray bottle), so I quickly headed back up the aisle. I smiled and made eye contact with the dad. “No one ever told me that rule,” I said. “I never liked following those sorts of rules anyway.” The dad still didn’t say anything, and I just kept walking. I hope that little interaction opens an interesting dialogue between father and son.
At the checkout, the lady asked me how old I was in lieu of checking my ID for my cider. When I told her I’m 35, she went on and on about how I looked MUCH younger. We went back and forth for a bit with me thanking her, and her not quite believing I was 35. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I was leaving the store, because my final purchase consisted of a 12-pack of Angry Orchard cider and a super-sized Kit-Kat. Obviously it is my excellent diet that keeps me looking so young.
My fun, Sunday interactions with strangers. Never a dull moment while living daringly.