Uncanny America


Click on image for Barbie detail.

I recount the following conversation I had with my daughter as I was getting out of the Jeep to take the above photograph:

Zoë was yelling at me, "What are you doing, Dad?"

I told her I was taking a picture of this truck.

She asked why, and I said, "Because there is a Barbie head in the front seat." She said, "What's a Barbie?"

And I said, "You're a good girl."

This kind of moment (in which I revere my daughter for not recognizing an American icon) is pretty closely related to the fact that I am almost obscenely proud of the fact that I have never been to Disneyland (or world). Neither has my wife.

As far as I am concerned, this bundle of truths makes my family perfect.

The baby doesn't value anything that won't fit into his mouth. The three-year-old doesn't know who Barbie is, calls broccoli her favorite food, and won't sculpt with the colored clay because it's for "babies."

This sounds like something someone must have said once, but we are best defined by those things we reject, or maybe also by the things we secretly love. I love Velveeta and picante sauce, the TV show Scrubs, and comic books.

What do you reject? What do you secretly love and hope no one will ever discover?