I doubt anyone who knows my wife or me would describe us as rebels. But recently, we rebelled. We did not invest in studded leather jackets or dye our hair blue. We did something much edgier: we compiled a photo album.
I know what you’re thinking, Isn’t that a little over the top? Yes, yes, it is. But we live life in the fast lane, and we do daring things like that. It was an enjoyable endeavor. We each scrolled through our phones, picking out our favorite photographs and wondering which ones might be the most important to our children one day. We ordered prints online and purchased a photo album that can hold 300 4x6 pictures. When the photos arrived, we put them in order chronologically, labeled them, and put them in the sleeves of the album. It was satisfying. It also felt countercultural. We were doing something our grandparents did years ago, something few of our minimalist peers would ever dream of doing (thanks, Marie Kondo). We were sitting down together, carefully curating images of our recent past to create something that would help us, and our children, remember in the distant future. Simple? Yes. Quaint? Sure. But in an age characterized by its lust for change, thinking or doing anything traditional, or in a traditional way, is itself an act of rebellion. Take this past week, for example. In the midst of efforts by the Black Lives Matter movement and the 1619 Project to paint the United States as an inherently racist and unsalvageably-flawed experiment, my family and I gathered in front of Don and Barb Ball’s house to watch an old-fashioned parade in celebration of America’s noble ideals. As the veterans made their way down the wide street, the crowd stood to attention and applauded heartily. “Thank you for your service! Thank you for your service!” I heard multiple times as they passed by. It was enough to put a lump in this stoic’s throat, and it inspired enormous pride in my community for having its priorities (and its history) right. And while some public school systems are encouraging kindergarteners to experiment with their “gender expression,” three children on Hospital Drive were experimenting with childhood entrepreneurship in the form of a lemonade stand. The 25-cent lemonade hit the spot. The flower they gave me was kind. But the “Have a happy 4th!” they wished me as I left was the best part of all. Indeed, to have traditional ideas about anything from marriage and sexuality to freedom of speech, free enterprise, and patriotism, is to act rebelliously. And we need more of it. I’m not talking about the storm-the-capitol-because-your-candidate-lost type of rebellion. Neither am I referring to the rebellion that inspires some to hoist “F*** Biden!” flags into the air. Such rebellion is anarchistic and vulgar, and it has no place here. I’m talking about a rebellion that, as the late William F. Buckley, Jr. described it, “stands athwart history, yelling Stop.” It means speaking out non-violently and civilly about issues that matter, instead of burning buildings or storming public places. It means thanking police officers (the majority of which are good eggs) for putting their lives on the line to ensure the safety of our communities. It means humbly, but firmly seeing to it that our elected officials refuse to allow poisonous philosophies to become policy. It means taking our family to a good church and teaching them that, contrary to what they might hear in the broader society, there is an eternity and a God, and that they will face both. And, yes, rebellion might even mean sitting down together to compile a photo album. Such simple acts likely will not result in screen-printed tee shirts emblazoned with Che Guevara’s face or trendy hashtags and merch. But they might change our families and maybe even our communities. And if that’s the case, then such rebellion is a success in my book.
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AuthorTy Perry is a writer based in metro-Detroit. Archives
December 2023
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