Buying into patriotism

When I think back to the first time the concept of money actually hit me, it probably coincided with hearing the word, "No." "No" often referred to my begging to stay up past my eight o'clock bedtime, stopped me from crossing the street and told me I couldn't have dessert. Money did not mean economy, ideology or capitalism. When the dreaded word was applied to things, things I couldn't have, "No" was something new. I remember the little dollar bills my parents would give my friends and me to go to the candy store and get as many lollipops, Reese's and caramels we could for 100 cents; I watched in awe as my dirty crumpled bill turned into different flavors, colors and sizes. This was hardly an understanding of the economy, of capitalism, though.

Despite the fact that my formative years, from age five to about 15, spanned two major recessions and subsequent booms, Penny Candy Store was really the only place the theme of economy had any impact in my life. There was always the question in junior high school and high school of why some girls were somehow always able to make 10 trips to the Gap and Banana Republic each week and others only once on their birthdays. And I'll never forget one friend who in French class, when asked the question, "Combien de salles de bains avez-vous?" responded, "Neuf! J'ai neuf salles de bains." Even then, my mind did not automatically jump to the fact that this girl had more money--and in that case, nine bathrooms--than most people in the class, but to the fact that her mother must say "No" a lot less than my mother did, and that it wasn't quite fair.

At the same time, these vague notions of money and spending were developing, I sang the Pledge of Allegiance in class and celebrated the Fourth of July every summer. I knew a little of the fact that the success of the country depended on the idea of capitalism, which apparently had something to do with the national anthem, democracy, freedom and Uncle Sam, not necessarily in that order.

Now, in college, with my own bank account and bills to pay, the economy part of capitalism has become part of my everyday life. As I learned to manage my money and take economics classes, I began to see how the economy worked, and how my little Wachovia checking account worked into the rest of the economy. Although looking for my balance on my banking receipts and paying for food at Wellspring doesn't necessarily make the freedom bells ring in my head, it is only now that I am realizing that is what it is: freedom, the freedom to spend however you want on whatever you want in whatever quantity. Hearing ads on the radio for Durham Nissan saying, "Come to Durham Nissan now. We're doing our part to stimulate the economy!" and local bars saying, "Dollar pitchers Wednesday nights, come drink and help the economy!" finally made me understand the relationship between our nation's economy and ideology. For the first time in my life, I can actually feel the impact of the recession, with job recruiters' telling seniors not to bother applying, to go to grad school and to try back in January.

It seems like every store in North Carolina is decorated with red, white and blue and every product tri-colored. Now, spending money is noble; instead of sticking to my usual Special K and Fruit Loops, I'll go ahead and buy the patriotically colored Rice Krispies. The war is our new excuse; how can you refuse a brand or restaurant saying, "Buy this and help our country!"? It's the most effective new advertising campaign yet. Consumerism and patriotism are becoming intertwined for the first time since World War II, and then there were hardly as many things to buy; just think of how many American items are mass-produced. This new national fervor ranges from stratum to stratum, covering all social positions: You can buy a $1,000 Moschino-sequined top on the cover of New York Magazine and at the same time a 69-cent flag key chain from K-mart. Here in the South, the "Jesus is coming" signs on I-85 are supplemented by "God Bless New York" signs--definitely a novel appearance. In this new atmosphere of mass marketed unity, any excuse is viable. Next time your bursar's bill comes home, just say you were helping the economy.

Alexandra Wolfe is a Trinity senior and a writer for Recess.