I don’t really like to write this blog. I don’t like putting myself out there. I know I’m not very good. I’m trying to convey the most beautiful song in the world and I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. But I’ve discovered the cure to what ails us and I’m resolved to getting it out any way I can think of. My brother says my blog is mostly preaching to the choir. The people it needs to reach, not even seeing it.
That’s why I enjoy driving my truck around. I enjoy parking my truck. I enjoy sitting at stop lights. I have a camper shell on my truck with three exposed windows. And on these windows, I have, as large as I could get written –
All are Created Equal (over-arching and in beautiful cursive)
America’s Founding Principle. (Bold and underlined)
Please think about it. (The main gist)
(With a suggestion) You can visit foundingprinciple.org
So now I know, whether driving or parked, more than the choir is seeing it. Every person who reads the back or the side of my truck, hears that bell ring. Every person in the car behind me, the people who are beside me. The folks passing my truck on the parking lot. They see it, whether they want to or not. And you can’t unsee something. You can’t unring that bell.
Probably many don’t like it, for so many reasons, but no matter what, the bell still rings and reminds us of the fact that it is America’s Founding Principle. I don’t look at faces. Don’t look for reactions. I’m only here to ring the bell. You can think about it as you wish. But I’ve accomplished my first goal. People can’t help but at least think about it. Can’t help but put these two together. Even if it ticks you off. The bell has been rung.
All are created equal is America’s Founding Principle. Everyone knows it’s true. They might think about that the next time they wave our flag. Might think about it the next time they vote. It might cross their mind in daily life. Every person that hears that bell ring, cannot erase it, cannot delete it, they cannot just make it go away.
I can ring this Liberty Bell. The words etched in stone. Simply written on the sides of my truck. I can sing this song. The words already waiting. The notes, left to the imagination. I can’t afford billboards or brass bands or sky-writing, but I know I ring that bell every time someone reads my truck. And it’s all Americans, not just the choir.
I realize the danger, to so much more than my glass. I’m putting everyone I love at risk. But there’s a sense of security I can’t really explain.
It feels like my Country has my back.