The Bownes Are Alright

The Story of the Christmas Photo That Appeared on Billboards

We entered the WMGK contest, won, and then politics happened

I knew exactly what to do

As soon as I heard the classic rock station in Philadelphia, WMGK, was having a Christmas Card Billboard contest, the image appeared to me.

Take a classic rock album. Feature the family in holiday attire against a field of white. Add Santa hat — a British Union Jack blanket — and then pose everyone like The Who from The Kids Are Alright.

We could all, then, snuggle together for warmth— just like on the album. It was perfect.

Why do I have a British flag blanket? Well, mates, that’s a fabric for another fable. My love of Britain is more about music and literature and ale than Tory politics and colonialism and Brexit. Being an Anglophile is rather challenging these days, especially with the “likes” of Boris Johnson, but I’m getting away from my Christmas photo.

And I’m sure the Boris Johnson fans have stopped reading.

So much for that demographic!

It was just my luck to have snow for the backdrop

It was also my luck to have a family patient enough to go along with my antics. Almost every year I write a crazy Christmas letter or story, full of hyperbole and satire. Then we’d pose some way or other. One year, for example, we did “jazz hands.”

Another year, we sat in our college swag around the fire.

My daughter Katherine* is a Photoshop ace. All self-taught. She was really the brains and the talent behind the lens. It was difficult to keep straight faces, especially daughter Sarah*, the youngest, who just giggled, or pulled the blanket over her face.

But we all loved The Who — especially Sarah*.

Katherine, 17, found the font to make it look legit

So with holiday cards in the mail, complete with a crazy letter, I also sent the file to WMGK, knowing we had a good shot of being featured in the Philadelphia area on Christmas Day back in 2013.

Has it really been that long?

I had seen holiday photos on the WMGK web page, and I was like, “Oh man! I think ours is gonna win!”

And then I got the email. We won. I was stoked! We emailed friends and family. My wife and I told our students. “Look for our Christmas Card on billboards all across Philly!”

DJ radio rock legend John DeBella, who I grew up listening to on WMMR, with the Morning Zoo, and then later with WMGK, was talking about our photo. DJ Debbie Calton was also there to take over from the morning shift.

They said:

And if you will be so kind — (music) — as to announce the winning family — it would be Walter Bowne of Cherry Hill, New Jersey. His entry was “The Bownes Are Alright.” It’s his family, like The Kids Are Alright from The Who album — the Union Jack and everything — and they’re wearing their Santa hats. There’s snow in what appears to be their backyard. It’s perfect. It ties in classic rock, the season, family. It’s got it all. As soon as I saw it, I thought: this deserves to win. Our congratulations to them.”

On Christmas Day, we piled into our Mazda minivan

This included grandparents. We drove around Rt. 70 and Rt. 130 just across the Delaware River in Pennsauken, Cherry Hill, and Camden. Looking. Looking. Looking.

After fifteen minutes of looking, we found it. Yeah! Fun!

After winter break, a student told my wife Mary Jane she had her parents drive on Christmas Day to look for our billboard. That parent was also my wife’s principal. Alas, no holiday bonus in her check!

What would we do for next year? How about Wally and the Poor Girls in Christmas gear like Willy and the Poor Boys from Creedence Clearwater Revival. But I don’t think they ever ran the contest again.

By that time, I was really into alternative music, even though classic rock is still my meat and potatoes.

So every year around Christmas time, Facebook reminds me of the photo. I smile, laugh, and think warmly of family and music. Can there be anything better?

But one Christmas was very sad

I reposted that winning photo one Christmas during a tense election period. Why did I repost? Was it out of ego?— like “Look how awesome and cute we are!” Or for whatever reason people repost pictures on Facebook.

Then the very sad post happened.

A family member, a once very close member, who had once been almost like a brother, criticized the British flag. Then an image appeared under my holiday card: an American flag with a vicious-looking American Eagle looking like he wanted British Bownes for lunch. Was this Stephen Colbert satire? No. And then the tag — “this is the only flag you need to fly.”

What? Is everything political these days?

This was in that year of Trump's ascension. It made me sad. I should have just let it go, man, but man, can you always, well, just let things go?

I responded very nicely, I like to think

“That photo was just an homage to the great Who compilation — The Kids Are Alright. You know, music that we used to enjoy together! This was not a political statement. You know, just a fun family photo combined with good old classic rock. “

Then the response: “be an American.” And I should have just stopped then.

When I was in graduate school for English, Professor Chauhan shared with me an experience about when he was at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris with a European colleague. Every painting, according to the colleague, was “bourgeoisie garbage.”

It was useless to have a conversation about art or any topic if there was no common ground.

And, being young and wanting to be right, he tried to talk about art, but this colleague would have none of it. The colleague was so convinced of his own facts and opinions, not even God could change his mind.

It takes two for a tug of war, I think he said. If the discussion is getting nowhere, drop the rope. Walk away. It’s not worth the energy. Or the pain.

I had already been upset by what this once beloved family member said on Facebook — both Dante’s Hell and Paradisio.

He posted that he loved coming back to “Dirty Jersey” to make fun of the “dot heads” at the gas stations. Now, many of my students are Indian. Pakistani, too. You know — students from all over Mother Earth. My daughters have friends who are Indian. It’s one of the reasons we moved to a culturally diverse area. We love Lebanese food — Greek food — Thai! Afghani!

You know — E Pluribus Unum all in a crock pot! Have we become a country of crack pots?

Why didn’t I heed Dr. Chauhan’s lesson in my Russian novel class?

Bonehead, let go of the rope. But I didn’t. I revved up the turbo-ego of Walter Bowne, with my academic degrees, my deep historical background, and my comprehensive love and knowledge of American history — and —

If questioning my love of America, I could easily take him down in American history. And I knew those words hit wounds. He was a college dropout. Still trying to find his way — in his late fifties. And angry. Did he need a scapegoat? Call me, then, The Goat. He said I was a pompous ass and a few other words South of Sophistication for print.

What I did was wrong. What did I wish to achieve? Why were my fingers so quick to two-finger slash and dash already tender wounds? Would I make him change his mind? Did I want to reassert my “intellectual superiority” and my deep knowledge of Washington, Hamilton, Roosevelt, the Civil War, the Battle of Midway, the Cherokee Trail of Tears, Yorktown, Andrew Jackson, and my hero — Ulysses S Grant?

See what I mean? Yeah — pompous. Did I want to remind him of any competition between the two of us? Maybe.

The last word I typed to this once dear, beloved family member was — goodbye, (name). Then I deleted my “friend” account of this “family” member.

I now think, “I hope that that American flag keeps you warm in your solitude.”

I have not heard from him

He has also alienated other dear family members, a once very close family, or what I once thought was close. Appearance and reality, however, can be very different, especially when tribal politics enters the ring with each side having its own “parrot thinkers” (Emerson).

Whenever I laugh and smile at our picture on that brilliant snow day in December, it also brings forth sadness.

Something as silly as a flag, a mere symbol, a mere metaphor, can separate two ‘Blood Brothers’ forever. Wow — how many millions and millions and millions have died over a metaphor? Joseph Campbell taught me that.

And that just makes me sad.

*Names of daughters have been changed.

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