The marquis of the vintage movie theater in the Small Town -- shuttered for ten years now -- has the following letters clipped to its board:
CHEER UP
PASS IT ON
None of the letters are crooked, nothing is misspelled, there's no neon: it's old school for a new world and perfect.
I've driven by it for a week now, maybe more. It juts out over a block that includes the beloved book store, the smarmy barfly bar, the sub shop I have never entered, a bank, and the grumpiest news store ever (you'ld think when buying $15 dollars of what is essentially something you could get for free online, a smile might come your way, but noooooo). There's some antique dealers there too, and cars and kids and people on their way. If I hit the block at sunset, driving west out of town, the marquis and the three story brick buildings seem time-warped to me: captured and stuck and 1970. I think corduroys and my dad's Frye boots.
Today I drove down that street. It was 5:00pm and the sun was still up and I was about to get lost taking my daughter and her friend to a sleep over. The marquis registered with me as it always does, as it always has since its been up, but today, even with the lack of the golden sundown to inspire my imagination, I got sad thinky.
The Small Town is depressed. The Small Town needs prozac in the water, or tequila.
No one seems happy. It feels... grim. It shows on the faces of my friends, and maybe on my own. It shows in the blogs I read, when I muster the energy. It shows in the newspapers and on the TV news and even movies reek with negativity and gloom. It's contagious, this depression. There is no immunity for those whose lives are untouched -- their empathy turns inward. Depression by default.
CHEER UP.
PASS IT ON.
So simple, so easy to read: right there where we hustle and bother and move in our cars, all alone. There in the sky, on the marquis -- a message to us that though we can easily read in passing, we are suffering to do when we stand still.
I wish I had some graphic art skills; I wish I could take those words on the marquis and turn them into a "button" or a badge or whatever it's called and send it out on some viral mission. Hopefulness, happiness, gratefulness: these things must be contagious too. Gotta be, must be: Are.
Can you help?
Can you make a digital version of the Small Town marquis CHEER UP. PASS IT ON so that we can pass it (virtually) along?
Because if you can, maybe we can shoot some sunshine and prozac and tequila into the collective vein of our mutual humanities, our own small towns, our neighborhoods, our big cities by collectively believing in and passing on cheer.
CHEER UP.
PASS IT ON.
6commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
Thinky indeed, Mizz Picket. I agree...almost. And then I start thinking so much of what is going on could be helped by a sign that says, "Reality. Pass it On." Isn't that the thing we've avoided that has caused us to need a sign that says "Cheer Up. Pass It On."??Thinky indeed.
I'm a digitard so I can't help. But I'd be glad to pass it on. Then maybe we could make bumper stickers that say quitcherbitchin.
Personally, I'm sticking with "the glass is half-empty" until proven otherwise.
I kind of like, Responsibility. Pass it on. I think that's what we're avoiding.
I think either one, depression or happiness feeds on itself and either depletes or grows depending. As bad as things can be, happiness is a choice.
Choose it.
Choose Happy.
It is brilliant. My small town seems depressed too. I would make you a badge but I am all sucky at making badge things. I think it is a great idea though. Cheer up, pass it on...like a pay it forward smile.
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