In my neighborhood there's a little patch of flowers. It's a sea of white lily-of-the-valley ground cover. You know the flowers. They're the tiny, sweet-smelling, bell-shaped flowers that populate everywhere in Spring. I look down, and all I see is a carpet of white...with one glaring exception. Popping through is a solitary reckless red rose. A raspberry in a bowl of whipped cream.
It occurred to me that standing out in the crowd is remarkable. Being one of a kind is special. Men are like that. A big component of being a man is his uniqueness. Hell, this country was founded by men with rugged individualism.
Back in the 1940's, Major League Baseball was lily white. Then, Jackie Robinson came along and broke the color barrier. He popped through like a red rose.
Nice metaphor! I agree..as a red rose growing up in a sea of white flowers in the SF Valley..I can remember that feeling of wanting to be like the other flowers..now I'm just glad to have been that crimson one instead.
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