Purple:
old leaves, crushed berries,
squishy plums with worms in them.
Purple: the smell
of all things
mixed together.
From: Red Sings From Treetops: A Year in Colors
written by Joyce Sidman
illustrated by Pamela Zagarenski
Houghton Mifflin Books for Children, 2009
Purple is an idea color. A brave purple heart, gently scented lavender, strong grape wine.
A person’s face can turn purple with rage.
Some familiar phrases include: A purple cow something remarkable, amazing, unique, stand-out, eye-catching, unusual. Purple prose large exaggerations, lies, and highly imaginative writings. Purple speech signifies profanity. Purple haze denotes confusion or euphoria. According to bourncreative.com purple combines the calm stability of blue and the fierce energy of red. Who decided these are political colors, anyway?
Purple is the color of a bruise. I think even the political winners are feeling pretty bruised up. I will wear purple, not because I’m old. Not because purple is an awkward color to match. Not because I even *like* purple. Anyone who knows me knows I’m drawn to yellow.
I will wear purple to show I’m proud of my bruised self. I’ll wear purple to show I can entertain ideas other than my own. I’ll wear purple to show I’m willing to compromise.
I’m not willing to sit back and see what happens. I’m purple enough (with passion, not rage) to work to make our country one we can be proud of. One that provides opportunity, fairness and security.
I will wear purple until the bruises start to fade. Then I’ll wear chartreuse, that greenish yellow that bruises turn when they begin to heal. But I *really* don’t like chartreuse. Guess I’ll have to go shopping!
--stay curious!