IM-POSTER

“Well, I’ll be doggone. Manhattan Beach sure reminds me a lot of Arkansas,” said my Uncle Clem as we walked along the Strand.

“Yup. Since I’ve been here these few days I must’ve seen more’n a hundred flags wavin’. That’s something we have in common. ‘Course we have Confederate flags but it’s still patriotic.”

“But Confederate flags represent…”

Clem suddenly let out a yell before I could finish.

“By golly there’s one thing we don’t have back home. Those Thank you MBPD posters. And MBFD!

I love fire fighters. I wish I’d have been one but I stole some candy bars when I was young and got arrested for arsony, so I can’t be around fire no more.”

“Uncle I think that was larceny. You can certainly be a volunteer fire fighter if you try.”

Uncle Clem suddenly got a little more bounce in his step.

“I do think it’s a little disingenuous, though, suddenly having these posters popping up just when the whole country is in upheaval and protesting police brutality. Don’t you think so, Uncle Clem?”

“I ain’t sure ‘bout them big words yer usin’ but I believe I heard the word genius in there and I’ll agree with ya on that. Ya see back home we do the same trick. Only we do it with the Confederate flag.”

“What do you mean, Uncle? The Confederate flag represents…”

“I know what it represents. Ever’body does. But when people complain the Confederate flag stands for slavery and brutality we just say ‘No, we’re just proud of our heritage as Southerners.’ Heritage, that’s the word. That fools ‘em. See if we use some fancy words like heritage; culture; patriotism; why then we can wave that flag like a red cape in a bull’s face and nobody can say nothin’. We’ve been pretending it’s about heritage for 150 years so it must work.”

“So you’re saying putting up these Thank You MBPD posters and then saying all these fancy words like community and brotherhood and patriotism is really a cover for people who want to avoid dealing with Black Lives Matter and police brutality and racism in this country? They’re pretending they’re good citizens but they really want to keep their white privilege?”

“That’s right, nephew. They’re takin’ a page right out of the good ol’ boys playbook, I reckon. Real genius, like you said.”

Clem paused for a moment, deep in thought.

“I have to admit, though, it shore is in bad taste. It’s like havin’ a picnic right next to a funeral. It’s rude. Like the time Lyman Scruggs’ dog got run over by a tractor smack dab on Main Street. It was so dang hard to clean up they had to postpone the annual Hog Show Parade even though some people said the Hog Show must go on. Sometimes you just gotta be polite, be neighborly, wait ‘til the dust settles.”

Clem paused again.

“After them brutal police murders of so many African Americans, to suddenly put up signs THANKING the police is something we just don’t do. One thing about the South we got manners.”

“I agree, Uncle. It is really offensive and repugnant to those of us striving for equality and justice to see such cynicism in our city.”

“There you go again usin’ them big words.”

“Sorry, Uncle. I should say it’s not everyone with those posters who are so cynical.”

“Same’s with us, nephew. Fact Willa Mae Tomkins always has her Confederate flag waving and she is a wonderful lady. Not a hateful bone in her body. Been slowin’ down lately, though. Some say its dee- mentia. We knew something was wrong when we found out she voted for Hillary last time. She even started paintin’ those hippie peace signs on her windows. Her son Dexter tried to have her committed but the judge said just because you want peace doesn’t mean you’re a danger to the comoonity.”

We walked into the market downtown to pick up a few groceries. Uncle Clem noticed the bill was $47.

“Back home we call that highway robbery, nephew.”

He looked around hopefully, then in despair.

“Where are the police when you really need ‘em?”