A Purple Shirt and an Open Book

When I was in San Antonio last week on vacation with the family, I purposely wore a University of Northern Iowa shirt because I knew we would run into somebody, somewhere, who was a Panther at some time. It happens every time we leave the Midwest - invariably someone will see our proud purple gear and we'll get a "Go Panthers" and perhaps a conversation from a complete stranger. We are part of the same tribe: we've lived in the same community, had classes in the same buildings, hold many of the same values, and feel the strong tie of supporting a university who has few casual fans, but many loyal alumni. In the few hours we were on the Riverwalk and at The Alamo, it happened twice: both times with smiles, well-wishes, and the knowing and comfortable look of shared experience.

As Panthers, we like knowing we are not alone in the world. There is not one around every corner;  in fact, I know of no other Panther flag flying in our community on game day, whereas Iowa and Iowa State flags and apparel are as common here as snow in March. There is a shared pride and boost in loyalty in the midst of fellow grads, an uptick in casual conversation and camaraderie. So the opportunity to wear the purple and gold outside of the state, particularly somewhere as far removed as Texas, is an opportunity for reciprocal gain.

The same seems to be true for those who dare to dawn superhero attire. I make this assumption as one who is not a superhero aficionado. I've seen some Batman movies, if that counts for much. But that is not my tribe. I do, however, now own a Superman t-shirt. I obtained this to satisfy the whims of my youngest daughter, a burgeoning member of the Wonder Woman clan, and her desire for all attendees to her most recent birthday celebration to be appropriately adorned in accordance with her theme. The shirt is comfortable, though, so I dared to wear it last week. I am afraid to do so again. In my few hours in public supporting the iconic "S," I was greeted as one of the tribe. It was clear I was somehow taking a side, making a claim of my love and history and rooting interest in the new Batman vs. Superman film. It was a little scary. I felt like apologetically explaining, that I was wearing this attire for the soft cotton, not the external brand. I was a poser, a fake, but I produced the same spirited response as if I had been legit.

A few days after our trip in San Antonio, I woke up earlier than my wife and kids in our hotel room in Oklahoma and decided to head down to the lobby to read before everyone got up. I picked up my iPad and a Time magazine and tip-toed out of the room. Upon entering the lobby, there was a separated square of love seats and couches next to a fire place and away from the televisions and breakfast area, perfect for avoiding distractions. There was already a woman sitting and reading on one of the couches, and I noticed she was reading a Bible. I sat down adjacent to her and asked if it would bother her if I sat down next to her. "No," she replied. "I'm just getting in my daily reading." I asked her which book of the Bible she was reading from, and we had a nice conversation for several minutes following.

"You know," she said, "not many years ago I wouldn't have ever dreamed of picking this book up. Now I start every day with it. It's such a treasure." I agreed, and she went on her way. On cue, I put the Time to the side and opened up my Bible app to start my day with some Psalms. A treasure indeed.

That brief exchange changed my day. Like me wearing my UNI shirt days before, she was stating her tribe in a hotel lobby at 6 AM. She gave someone else from the tribe an opportunity to not feel alone, a chance to exchange knowing smiles and connected conversation, and the motivation and pride to revel in that citizenship as well. A woman I'll probably never see again, in a hotel lobby in nowhere Oklahoma, during a morning I was merely killing some time, unintentionally joined with me. She properly turned my attention away from basketball scores, Twitter, and Time, and instead into words of Life. Later I met her family in the line for waffles, and she offered smiles and small talk with my daughters. We were all the better for it.

Some days that's all it takes: an open Bible and a smile. Seeing that made me a better father, husband, and disciple that day all the way north on I-35.