Choose Life

My husband bought a vehicle from a work friend, and drove it home from Tennessee. It belonged to his friend's mom, who passed away. The car has been here with us in Virginia for a while now, and he keeps meaning to get the license plate updated.

It's one of those specialty plates you can choose, and he's a little self-conscious of it, preferring something far less remarkable. This one bears the face of a plump, smiling baby and the tagline "Choose Life."

Tennessee is what you might call a red state.  Virginia is pretty much blue. And Charlottesville is, let's say, Vivid Blue.  Driving around with a Choose Life license plate in Tennessee is pretty run of the mill. Not so much in Cville.

Now place yourself in the parking lot of a Charlottesville Whole Foods grocery store. And picture yourself, tall dark and handsome with a fashionably trimmed salt and pepper beard, getting out of a mid-size SUV with a collection of eclectic bumper stickers and a ski rack. And, of course, The License Plate.

Now imagine an elderly, slightly overweight woman, walking with the assistance of a cane past your vehicle. She pauses, takes a sweeping look at you and the SUV, and with a deliberate glance at the License Plate, makes a face of utter bewildered distaste before delicately shuffling her way onward.

You smirk a private little smirk, though feeling a bit scathed, and then, because you can't help yourself, toss out a retort, "Beats the alternative!"

God I love him.