Tacky Love

A few days ago I was making my way to a professor's house along a rural back road outside of Rome, Georgia, when on a hill to the left of the highway I noticed a huge piece of painted white ply board pinned firmly to a rickety old telephone post. On the ply board was the simple phrase “Love You Lynn” painted in huge, black letters. It wasn’t professional. It wasn’t paid for or properly zoned. It was just there—an impulse of love displayed in the most public and dorkalicious way.

There is something brilliant about tacky love. It is unafraid and unashamed. It is loud and obnoxious. It manifests itself in the most public and imperfect ways. It is spray-painted on overhangs and water towers across the country. It is redneck, rough, and unrehearsed; and yet, in some ways it is more sincere and more beautiful than the most stunning recitation of Donne or brilliant rendition of Romeo and Juliet. It is tacky. It is brave.

As a teenager I knew all about tacky love. We all did. Cheap dates and senior proms are the breeding ground for such public displays. I remember a time when a Publix rose bouquets, cheap tuxes, and too-tight suits were the norm in my dating life; but, sadly, as I have grown in “sophistication,” my appreciation for such things has faded away. I constantly fret over public reaction to my unrestrained displays of affection. I worry what others might think poorly of me selling myself so completely on the concept of love or adoration. I feel stupid and vulnerable. I convince myself that tacky love is somehow beneath me—yet, thankfully, no matter how far I slip, there is always a “Love You Lynn” sign that reminds me of better days.

Thank God for signs like the one I saw Friday. And thank God I live in Georgia—a bastion of unabashed, homegrown tackiness. Our flags wave proudly from poles on our front porches. Yellow ribbons dot our mailboxes and door frames. Crosses anoint hillsides where sheep and cattle graze. Our families are loud and loyal; and if we fall in love with a beautiful Southern lady, heaven help us we are not afraid to paint a sign in our garage and staple gun it to a telephone pole or propose a life together in neon letters on the scoreboard at a Braves game.

I hope Lynn appreciates her tacky love—I did. After all, what do any of us need, if not an adoration so deep it discards beauty and dares to be tacky.

Comments

[Claude Clopolopogous]

First off, let me say that I don't have the heart to bash a series of comments on this issue when one of those comments is "I feel stupid and vulnerable." I mean, how can any real criticism (in the negative, not the analytical, sense) approach that?

This "Love You Lynn" sign says more about its audience than it does its writer. It says that Lynn might well have it in her to appreciate/cherish such displays. On top of that, the sign says that the other drivers on this particular highway should make it worth their while to take notice of it. Maybe they know Lynn. Maybe they know the writer. Maybe they are to react a certain way based on a context only they are aware of. After all, there might be a story behind this sign, a background to the seemingly simple message which might actually make it a bit poignant.

Just as the "Love You Lynn" sign makes me wonder about the intended audience, this blog makes me do the same. Should I now expect loads of tacky written exchanges to ensue between you and your friends, all of it here before the eyes of the blogging public?

John, I admire you for proclaiming your opinion on this matter so directly, for being thankful you are around "the last bastions of tacky love." That's a brave thing to say.

I guess the recipients of our love in whatever form it make take, tacky or otherwise--restrained, subtle, distanced, obsessive, fervent, out of control--are the only ones who can really judge such endearing messages fairly; they have the background information needed to do so. The rest of us can just speculate on these messages' worth.

[Claude C.]

Quick addenda: You didn't exactly say, "the last bastions of tacky love." That's a paraphrase, not a quote. My mistake.

[Nate]

Nice post, John...something personal, yet public at the same time, as most of us have come across signs as that which you described. Not sure what Claude C. is expecting, but I'm not bothered by any deviation from political, etc., issues at all.

Keep up the good work.

[ella]

Cute Post! I've even heard of a girlfriend getting her boyfriend to dress up in an identical outfit to hers for pictures in front of the Christmas tree. :) Now that is tacky love!

[Mike Morrell]

Hey John! Geez, you have a blog! And you've heard of my site! And Eriana has a blog...Berry is plugged in!!!

I had no idea...nice...

[John]

Indeed, the Berry community has its own bit of "tacky love" brewing online. Keep in touch man. You guys have a ton of links!!!

[Kelly]

Ok John, that was cute but I swear that I would not only dump but actually strangle anyone who attempted to erect a sign for me...Maybe all this tacky love crap is lost on transplanted Yankees- all I see is spelling errors and poor handwriting. And dear god, do you really like those awful yellow ribbons? Between the signs, ribbons, and fake flowers, rural Georgia just makes me feel like I am perpetually driving through some old lady's living room....

[John]

Kelly--you are such a romantic!