Expression

This afternoon I was sitting at a stop light this afternoon behind a truck. His bumper stickers read “No matter how hard they try this flag will never die” with a confederate flag on it and “If the north is so great why don’t you go back?” As I was reading them I became conscious of the song I was singing along to, “He was my Brother” by Simon and Garfunkel. (For those of you unfamiliar with it I’ve included the lyrics below.) My car has the following bumper sticker on it

So rather than getting angry about this guy and his efforts to be intentionally offensive I just thought about how much the miniscule situation I was in represented the incredible gift of the right to expression.

He Was My Brother Lyrics:

He was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three years old the day he died

Freedom writer
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin' place

He was singin' on his knees
An angry mob trailed along
They shot my brother dead
Because he hated what was wrong

He was my brother
Tears can't bring him back to me
He was my brother
And he died so his brothers could be free
He died so his brothers could be free