I am proud to say that yesterday I participated in the largest display in exercising the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America seen in decades. An assembly of peaceful, cheerful, welcoming individuals stood in the wind and rain to express anger (cheerfully?), fear, and resistance to the agenda and attempts by the current administration to effect a coup on our democratic republic.
This occurred all over the world in solidarity against the denial of every human beings right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It occurred in public spaces, streets and city blocks, towns, villages and neighborhoods, in living rooms and in kitchens. It was millions strong!
I was at the Empire State’s capital. I expected to see a turnout. I expected the wind and the incessant rain to keep some away. What I didn’t expect was that the ride to the protest would be more impactful and memorable for me.
My smart, sassy, 6 year old grandson was determined that he was going to seize his opportunity to speak his truth. He made his own signs and stated that “as long as there were snacks” he was “100%” in no matter what the weather. He and his mom picked me up in time to make the 10:23 public bus downtown. This was to be his first ride on an other-than-school bus. It was my second in recent weeks for the sole purpose of protesting without possible parking problems. Say that three times real fast!
Our stop was at the beginning of the line. When we arrived we were pleasantly surprised to see a small line gathered of other like minded individuals carry signs.
The CDTA 18 travels the roads that I have known for 60 years. I was tour guide to my grandson as I pointed out the duplex where his mom spent the first five years of her life, the Town Hall where she “practiced law” and the library where “everybody knew her name.”
The next stops were frequent and filled with others carrying signs and dressed for the deluge. Progress through the town I had grown up in was slow and the bus filled. Soon there were few seats left and the windows began to fog. My family removed layers of clothing to keep from overheating and snacks were served to the boy.
A majority of the passengers were persons of a certain age. Older, and probably wiser, and maybe ones that had the resource of time to commit to this necessary task. My daughter had left her husband home with my one year old granddaughter and the list of weekend tasks that not all younger parents have the luxury of splitting. My grandson was the only child on board.
As the bus whined, rattled, stopped and started I reflected upon memories of this community. Twenty-two years ago I had left it, angry and sour from the lack of empathy the residents had for my family during a difficult time. Then today I was seeing literal signs of support and push back from possibly some of those same people.
Shortly after reaching the city limits the bus driver turned on a NOT IN SERVICE sign because the bus had reached maximum capacity. There were a few “regulars” who needed to get somewhere but for the most part we were “an express to a protest.”
One of the keys to successfully navigating this time of chaos is to find community. We the people on the CDTA-18@10:23 were a community. We smiled. We encouraged. We bonded. I cannot say that I forgave the past on that bus ride yesterday but I can say that I do have hope for the future.
swansroost 