The past eight years, I have refused to be seen wearing the colors red, white, and blue together. All my stripped red, white, and blue pillows were donated to charity but I kept the blue couch, the red hassock and matching beige chase lounge because it was, well, beige and not white.
I burned my designer t-shirt with the brass studs outlining the shape of the American flag. I ripped the tie-dyed red, white, and blue jeans and used them for rags.
I refused to read books or magazines with red, white, and blue covers and never sat in my girlfriend’s upholstered red, white, and blue flowered print chair. On the Fourth of July, I took down my red, white, and blue twinkle lights from the attic and short circuited them to a crisp.
But when Barack Obama was elected president, I celebrated by eating my favorite French vanilla ice cream covered with fresh blueberries and raspberries. Light the red, white, and blue fireworks. It’s time to celebrate. This I believe.
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