ACHING FEET, JOYFUL HEART

My buddy, former VP Al Gore, would be proud of me.  I logged 12, 667 steps on my Fitbit yesterday at the Seattle Climate Strike March and Rally.  I expect that this whole climate crisis thing is now taken care of.  Done and dusted. You're welcome.

Wait?  What?  It's not fixed?  Damn!  There were marches worldwide yesterday, with millions of people taking to the streets over every continent.  In Seattle the only figure I can find this morning is "thousands" so I guess no one was doing an actual head count, but I can attest to the "thousands" number as marchers stretched for blocks from a festival type rally at a neighborhood park, then marched for a little over a mile on closed city streets to City Hall downtown.  I was one of those, as was Hub.

We got up early, hopped on a bus for the 25 mile trip to downtown Seattle, transferred to another bus to get to the park and felt pretty proud of ourselves -- we used no fossil fuels, did not contribute to clogged freeway lanes, spent a total of $2.00 using our Senior transit cards and ended up a block from where we were to meet up with the group we marched with:  Washington Physicians for Social Responsibility.   

We were part of that organization in the early 1980's fighting nuclear proliferation and the siting of a Navy base on the waterfront 1/2 mile from our home.  Yes, the base is here, but we slowed them down and helped reduce the number of ships homeported in our town.  Small victories.  Alas, some of those ships still house nuclear reactors and carry nuclear weapons and we hope to this day that none of our warnings about accidents and incidents come to pass.  Anyway, we are back with WPSR, now working with their Climate Change Task Force, and helping to organize a chapter in our county.

The park was jammed with people of all ages, toddlers to great-grandparents, carrying signs, staffing booths of local organizations, listening to youth speakers, and an air of hopeful enthusiasm infused the festivities. It was actually sort of a Progressive Nirvana.  

We noticed 3 black-clad Antifa types standing around looking like middle-school gangbanger wanna-bes, not intimidating anyone in the least.  The crowd would likely have overwhelmed them with rainbows and unicorns and Progressive talking points, so they remained mostly marginalized.  (Also there was a significant police presence in that area of the park, watchful, but relaxed and smiling at the crowd.)

Once the march began people filled the streets and spilled over onto the sidewalks, mostly chatting, smiling, taking photos, waving signs.  It was the typical Seattle crowd of polite, happy, optimistic, enthusiastic, and slightly self-righteous do-gooders who are earnest about their causes and ready to join with others to make change happen in whatever way it must.  (And, of course, along the route was the usual one guy with a megaphone shrieking about humanity's sinful ways and that we cannot save the earth because God will destroy it, as prophesized, to punish us.  Seriously?  Jesus, if you are listening, please do come back and set them straight.)

This event originated with 16-year-old Swedish Climate Activist Greta Thunberg, spread worldwide, and made way for local youth to lead.  All the speakers at the park were teens, as were the march leaders, and city hall speakers.  It felt amazing to literally follow this generation and to cheer their determination to make a better world for themselves and all who come after.

Hub and I had gone to Minneapolis in early August to take part in and be trained and certified as Climate Reality Leaders, an opportunity offered by Al Gore's Climate Reality organization.  Generally twice a year in the US and once a year internationally, Climate Reality trains folks to spread the word on the climate crisis, to become educators and activists locally.  There were 1200 people in our 3 day training, the typical number.  Gore was integrally involved, not just giving the opening and closing statements, but also taking the stage for his famous slide show presentation (which we now have in our possession to use as we want adapting it to a variety of audiences), moderating panel discussions, and recognizing outstanding volunteers for the organization.  His closing speech had everyone on their feet cheering and clapping.  (That guy should run for something! HA)

I thought of that training yesterday as we marched, as I looked around at the crowd, as I watched news reports covering marches worldwide, as I watched the two-part special on the Climate Crisis hosted by Chris Hayes on MSNBC this past Thursday and Friday evenings, as I watched the 2020 Democratic Candidate Climate 7-hour Town Hall a couple of weeks ago.

It wasn't that long ago that no one was paying attention, that people like Al Gore were shouting into a relative void.  His decades-long fight to get the attention of the country on this issue must have been an exercise in total frustration.  But he and others have persevered.  Now, finally, as the effects of climate change are all around us and impacting everyone, people are waking up.  A good thing, since time is running out to change the inevitable course we are on.

Al Gore often quotes the late Rudy Dorenbush,  MIT economist:  "Things always seem to take longer to happen than you think they will, but when they do, they happen faster than you ever thought they could."  I hope so.

We may be at a tipping point.  People are ditching plastic straws and plastic bags, doubling down on recycling, taking the bus more often, changing to LED light bulbs, but the biggest, most lasting and impactful actions are those we take at the policy level.  We have an administration in office now which not only denies climate change, but is actively contributing to it.  The best action we can take is to work like hell to vote them out and to vote in politicians who will act on policy that addresses the #1 existential threat to humanity.

I looked around yesterday, proud to be part of movement that will not give up or give in; proud to be marching with a new generation of leaders and activists.  And every step of the way I held my grandchildren close in my heart.  One older woman held a sign that spoke for me:  "I'll be dead; I'm marching for my grandkids."  Me too.

At least, that's the view from here...©

POST-MARCH EUPHORIA

Well, silly me.  Nothing to worry about.  No Anarchists, no opposition "haters", no rowdy marchers, no danger of  being crushed or trampled by the crowd....just 130,000 smiling, happy, positive, determined women, men, and children under mysteriously sunny skies being all polite and funny and creative -- quintessentially Seattle -- in a 3-mile phalanx of humanity moving slowly toward that beacon of modernity, the Space Needle -- where all dispersed and jammed every single bus, monorail, and taxi for hours upon hours (but more about that later...)

I will say we did it in style.  One of our group had an "in" at the historic Camlin Hotel and booked us a bunch of rooms.  It has an old world elegance, updated for the 21st century, but still feeling like you step into the 1920's inside with gold-gilted mirrors and a grand piano in the lobby.  (Much classier and understated than those "other" gold-encrusted gaudy T-Towers, of course.)  Our group of 20 gathered in a back "party room" and proceeded to create signs, eat snacks, have a glass of sparkling this or that, and get to know each other.  There was a core group and then friends of friends.  Many of us were strangers from one another.  I led a sharing circle where we each spoke to what brought us to the march, what were our hopes and fears about the experience, what support did we need...and how do we get from the hotel to the starting point over a mile away early on Saturday morning:  logistics.

Some of us got up early and bussed to the park where the march would start.  Some of us decided to join the march a mile in, at an official "entry point" along the route.  We later found out that the park, which was projected to hold 25,000 was soon overwhelmed with 50,000 or more people spilling into the neighborhood streets.

 My group decided to bus to the first entry point -- a plan several hundred other people also made.  We arrived to a large, colorful, cheerful crowd awaiting a first glance at the marchers headed our way.  A large lead contingent of police cars and cops on bikes came by, then the marchers.  We soon wove our way into the throng and off we went -- part of the excitement, part of the presence, part of history.

I felt a wave of so many emotions; so grateful for my friends and sharing this with them; grateful for the positive vibe all around me and the feeling of safety, shared values, and sense of community where babies to teens joined with adults of all ages, to the very aged with walkers and canes all putting our bodies on the streets and cheering from the sidewalks all along the march route.

Pink-eared 'pussy' hats (as in cat) were the predominant headwear -- women, men, children and dogs donned the knitted hats, a nod to the infamous crude quote by the man who is now the president about the female body part he feels entitled to grab when with women he finds attractive.  We took his crudeness and owned it as our own -- Pussy Power.

There had been a call for silent march and for the most part it was.  We had quiet conversations with each other and offered words of complement and encouragement to those around us, but there were no loud chants or shouts or songs or anything negative at all!  It was a wave of love or at least good humor where satire was more effective than anger.

We reached the Space Needle, hearing that some of our original group were still almost 3 miles behind us, having taken nearly 2 hours to exit the park!  We three Shiny Sisters Ubered back to downtown Seattle and took our place on the sidewalk, watching the marchers pass until the end.  It was a moment of profound delight and pride.  Not one altercation.  No incidents of violence or discord.  And that seems to be the case across all marches everywhere around the US and the world.  I've heard of no arrests, even at the massive 500,000- person march in Washington DC.   Love Wins.

And then you have to find your way home....  We three retrieved our bags from the hotel and made for the bus station to hop onboard and head 25 miles north to home.  Not too many people at the stop, so we felt confident.  Then the first articulated bus came by jammed with people and the driver said "no more room".  Some at the stop said that was the FOURTH full bus!  Hmmm....a little discouraging.  But we waited for the next bus.  Same thing.  It was getting dark.  We were tired.  On to Plan B.  If we took a bus south to the beginning of the line, we could get on and get a seat before it did the whole route and was jammed!  Brilliant.

We schlepped our bags to a different bus stop and hopped onboard a mostly empty bus that goes underground through the bus tunnel.  We were relieved, chatting away, people watching, reviewing the day and when we emerged from the tunnel it was full dark and we were rolling past Safeco Field at a high rate of speed and onto I-90 east to Bellevue.  Hmmm....we'd missed our stop and were now expressing about 10 miles out of our way.  Damn!  That wasn't the plan!  But what can ya do?

Fortunately one of us (not me) pulled up the bus schedule and figured out how to get home from Bellevue -- only two more buses!  Once at the transit station we had to run to catch the next bus or wait an hour, but we made it.  We were finally on our way to at least be in our home county!  But alas, soon we were at a dead stop on the interstate due to a horrible roll-over accident and all lanes briefly blocked for emergency vehicles.  We broke out the chocolate and potato chips.  It was well past dinnertime.

Once past the accident and on our way again, we relaxed into knowing we'd soon be at the bus station that would get us to the bus home.  But then....the driver slowed to a crawl and pulled over on the shoulder of the freeway and turned off the bus.  Everything went completely dark for a moment.  Now what???  We have no idea. He cranked the engine and we were soon on our way, but something was obviously wrong because he was hanging in the right lane going about 40 MPH.  We made it though, got on the bus home, and nearly collapsed into the car when a kind husband met us at the station.   The trip home was nearly as long as the march, but hey, it was another Shiny Sister bonding experience where we got distracted, had great conversations, disagreed, got a little pissed, people-watched, ate, read Facebook posts to each other, and laughed A LOT.  Typical outing for us.


So, the march was much more than the march.  We were part of history, we showed up and "spoke" with our presence that we will not be silenced and we will be watching and participating in working for our values, our vision, our Democracy.  We were part of a huge community of souls around the globe (millions all over the world marched on 1/21/17!), among the citizens within a free and proud United States, members of a small community of friends old and new in Seattle, and held within a smaller knot of friends- to-the-end from our own county to the north.  Eventually each of us ended up singularly in her bed last night, grateful for all of it -- even the interminable bus adventure.  Can't wait 'til next time....WE RISE!  STRONGER TOGETHER!

At least, that's the view from here...©

PRE-MARCH JITTERS

Oh, hello there Anxiety Monster! I knew you were lurking and I was wondering when you could pounce again.  Yes, this does seem like a good time.  I've been pretty emotionally healthy and stable until November 8th, but even then kept you at bay; you and your ugly partner, Depression Monster...where is she, by the way?  One would think she'd be asserting her considerable influence at this dark time in our country and in my psyche.  But no!  In spite of periods of overwhelm and anger and sadness-- no Depression!  Woo-Hoo!  So, anyway, welcome to you.  I will sit and listen to you for a few minutes, since it's been months since you took your leave after wrecking havoc with me last winter.  What ya got?

Hmmm....yes.  Good point.  This big Seattle Women's March tomorrow is projected to be one of the largest in the nation -- estimates say up to 100,000 people.

Yes, I know I hate crowds and especially those that feel like a herd of people one so could easily be trapped in and trampled by.

Yes, I know the Anarchists could show up and cause all manner of disruption.

Yes, I've heard the new president's supporters may also show up to shout at us, try to goad us into a confrontation, or pretend to be one of us while screaming outrageous epitaphs and showing outrageous images in order to sully our good intentions.

Yes, I know that even those on "our side" will approach the march in various ways -- in spite of a call for a silent march, it is guaranteed that there will be those refusing to march in silence.

Yes, I know we are a weaponized society and some crazy person could toss a bomb or start shooting at the crowd.  I know...I know...

And yet, I'm not giving in to your little diatribe of "what ifs".  Am I apprehensive?  Yep.  And I terrified?  Nope.  All will be well no matter what happens.  Because I am willing to risk any or all of the scary scenarios you are throwing at me.

I hear you...you are trying to get me to call in sick and watch it on TV.  I'll admit there is some attraction to doing that.  But you don't understand...this is a monumental thing we are protesting.  We are exercising our First Amendment rights to stand up for our very Democracy, for dignity and human rights, for freedom of the press, for our environment -- all the things this new administration is eager to dismantle.  This is no time to cower on the couch.

I'm also marching for women.  I remember too well every time in the campaign when he denigrated women, admitted to sexual assault of women, ridiculed Hillary and called her a "Nasty Woman".  As I watched him do this, I shook as the buried memories of my own experiences with horrible, predatory men surfaced.  I march for us.  For my granddaughters, who I want so much to be raised in a nation where care, compassion, dignity, grace, equality, and inclusion are the norm.  I march because I am furious that I even have to march for the basic human rights and dignities that have been trampled by this man who has taken the oath of an office today that he does not deserve to hold.

So, you see, you can't sway me this time.

I've laced up my hiking boots.  I've donned my official Washington State Women's March sweatshirt.
I'm meeting up with good friends shortly, hopping on a bus, spending the night in Seattle, and making my way with the throngs early tomorrow morning to the rally that will kick off the march.  I will be there.  I will be "full in", not watching from the sidelines.   You will likely be with me, I know.  Come on along; maybe you'll learn not to be such an ass.  Cuz sometimes you just have to shut the hell up and do what must be done, even when you're a little bit scared.

At least, that's the view from here....©

PRE-MARCH TANTRUM

Well, the Shiny Sisters (two close friends and me) gathered in my living room today.  I thought it was going to be a two-hour coffee and catch-up since we've all been busy with the holidays and then travels since the first of the year.  But no.  It was a 5 hour gab-fest.

Gab-fest sounds like a bunch of giddy gals gossiping and eating bonbons.  We did NOT gossip.  (And we ate a winning combination of chocolate covered candied pecans, tangerines, and dried apple slices.  Fruits and nuts in other words. Healthy.)

We are all marching on Saturday in the Seattle version of the post-inaugural Women's March on Washington DC.  Seattle is projected to have the 2nd or 3rd largest march in the nation.  We'll see.  But the numbers 50,000-100,000 marchers has been bandied about.  I don't really like crowds, so I'm panicking ever such a little bit.   I hope to stick to the edges -- an aisle seat so to speak.

Thinking and planning around our participation in the march today, we three all agreed that the shock of November 8th has not really worn off.  Nothing is the same as it was before then in terms of emotional stability.  Anger, rage, disbelief, and dismay fight with the longing for peace, understanding, calm, and presence.  Overwhelm and the inability to discern what is most important among the multitudes of issues arising struggle with the desire to focus on that particular issue or two that speaks to our hearts most passionately, such that we can shut out the other calls for demands on time and attention and devote ourselves to that which we feel most drawn to protect, to promote, to ensure.  So much is at stake.  So much just feels crazy right now.

We three are a microcosm of the emotional upheaval that is causing, in my judgment, an entire nation to feel rather tense and unsure.  One of he Shinys started out stating that she is cynical that the system itself can be trusted; that nothing we do will really matter; nothing will change for either party.  We are doomed.  The other Shiny offered that the Republic may not survive; that Citizens United has us all in its clutches and the money flowing to candidates will win out over the cries of protesters, but still we must try.  Both felt a focus on "working locally" was likely the more strategic and productive way to go.   I sat there slouching in my chair pissed and deflated.  Why were we making all these calls to legislators on speed dial then?  Why was I sending emails and letters and reading about arcane Senate voting rules and memorizing names of Senate committee members?  Why were we even marching?

"Local?"  I sort of shouted.  "What the hell does that even mean?  Do I have to go sit at a School Board meeting and discuss next year's paper towel budget?  Go to a city council meeting and listen to ordinance issues?  Find out who the hell is on the county council cuz I'm ashamed to admit I don't even know?!?   How does "local" translate into pushing back on a president who is a crazy man and an agenda that will gut the progress we've made on so many human rights and environmental fronts?"

I sort of had a tantrum; I felt like "Fuck it; I'm wasting too much time on this.  Where's my coloring book?"  But of course, my vacillation between rage and inspired activism on every level is that of so many these days.  The tension between wanting to fix this brokenness somehow and just being so overwhelmed and angry at this predicament means the screaming and crying need to periodically be given voice in order to calm again and move forward with some modicum of intelligence and grace.  Emotions need to vent; then the mind can proceed to planning and doing.

So, off we will go.  You should see the multi-paged organizational document one Shiny has produced for the group of 20 of us who are meeting for dinner the night before, staying in Seattle at a downtown hotel, then getting ourselves to the starting point of the 4 mile march and home again from the end point.  It has taken so much time, skill, determination, and passion to create just this logistical plan.

But it feels good and we feel ready -- doubts, cynicism, anger, dismay, and all.  Because you show up.  Because this is time for not backing down, not accepting the unacceptable.  None of us want to be loud and rude and certainly not violent.  I will be marching in silence as is being encouraged by the march organizers (and rejected by those who want to shout out their chants and pains).   But putting bodies on the front lines, getting off the sofa, away from the computer, turning off the TV and making our own bit of history will make a statement and we will take a stand for our values, our vision, our ideals.  It's what must happen on Saturday because it's the right thing to do.

I hosted two movie nights at my house pre-election, one about the suffrage movements in England and one about the same in the US.  At the time it was a celebration of women and the power of the vote, on what we thought was the eve of electing our first woman president.  Now I think of those brave women and join them in what may well be mean streets, where our banners will wave, our signs will be hoisted, and our voices will rise loudly or be muted in silent witness to this country I love, to the Republic which must stand.

At least, that's the view from here....©