We came; we saw; we marched!

Last time I wrote to all my new best friends in the blogosphere, it was Tuesday, and we were creating the layouts for the posters we planned to bring with us to the peace rally and anti-war march in Washington, DC, that upcoming Saturday. This is the next installment in the story.

On Thursday, my husband and I pencilled over 25 posters with some of the issues that most concern us.

We left our home in the boondocks on Friday around 9:30am, arriving at our hotel convenient to Washington, DC, by 4:30pm. Our daughter came straight to the hotel room. As I finished stenciling, she outlined letters in black marker. My husband began filling in the stenciled characters. My daughter’s husband showed up after work and, along with my husband, filled in letters. We worked mostly without talking, taking only potty breaks. Hours later, my daughter’s husband finally threw in his marker. It was 2am, and he had to work the next day. We didn’t appreciate until we were nearly finished that he must have assessed that the three of us could handle the few remaining posters. We finished at 4am. After an abbreviated sleep, the three of us hit the floor running by 8am. Fast showers, a hasty breakfast, and on to the hotel shuttle to the Metro. We met other marchers, some carrying posters.

Our daughter took over from there, purchasing Metro tickets, finding elevators, and pushing the wheelchair. Shortly after boarding the train, we realized we were all heading to the march. At each stop, more marchers boarded the train. One marcher busily filled in letters on her poster. The train slowly made its way towards Washington. We listened to an announcement saying there would be one train and one track into Washington that morning; maintenance and repair needed to be done. The wheelchair created a little safe haven for all three of us; we were grateful because everyone else was packed in like so many sardines. This crowd didn’t complain, though. In fact, it strengthened our resolve--a resolve that was palpable as we clicked and clacked our way to Washington. The only thing any of us was worried about was keeping our posters from being bent. The camaraderie was contagious.

The marchers remained in good spirits; our goal was united. I steadied an older marcher the whole way to Washington. We amused each other by telling where we traveled from; Wilmington, NC, was represented, as well as eastern Virginia and Boston, MA. There was even an elderly couple who had just weathered hurricane Katrina in Louisiana. The little group we shared our tight space with on the Metro that morning represented states up and down the east coast and west as far as Texas. Every age group was represented, too. There were strollers and sign-bearing toddlers. Some of the children had made their own posters. There were senior citizens and wheelchair-bound marchers. It was amazing. Americans gathered to protest the invented war on a sovereign and defenseless country. One could feel the pent up frustration ebb. Finally, something positive. There we were: protesting, genuinely concerned for our country. Americans who cared. Too many Americans to be ignored. Americans who just couldn’t sit by and watch the evil tack their country had taken.

At this point, let me tell you about the copy on each poster we made. Many of them were presented in report card form. All the posters were centered, both horizontally and vertically on 28"x22" boards. The copy read as follows:

UP WITH
DEMOCRACY!

DOWN WITH
FASCISM!

DESTROYED:
2 GULFS
1 ADMINISTRATION

SO MUCH MORE
TO DESTROY...
SO LITTLE TIME.

DRIVE A HYBRID...
LEAVE A LIGHTER FOOTPRINT
ON THE PLANET.

NO WAR
FOR OIL!

BUSH
REPORT
CARD: F

PLAYS
WELL WITH
OTHERS: F

STARTS
PREEMPTIVE
WARS: A

COMPLETES
WORK: F

EMPTIES
U.S. TREASURY
IN RECORD TIME: A

RESPONSE
TIME: F

USE OF
U.S. ARMED
SERVICES: F

HELPS RICH
CRONIES: A

HELPS OTHERS: F

COMMUNICATES
WELL WITH
OTHERS: F

ASSISTS
AMERICANS
(RICH): A

ASSISTS
AMERICANS
(POOR): F

GRASPS
CONCEPTS: F

SHOWS
COMPASSION: F

GETS
TRENT LOTT’S
HOUSE REBUILT
BIGGER AND
BETTER: A

GETS
CITIZENS
SHELTER: F

HAS EXIT
STRATEGY: F

NO WAR
FOR OIL,
CONSERVE!

COOPERATES
WITH OTHER
COUNTRIES: F

MARTHA GOES
TO JAIL; KEN LAY
GOES TO WASHINGTON?

ASSASSINATE
HUGO CHAVEZ?
NOT VERY CHRISTIAN!
BUT THAT’S PRECISELY
WHAT SMILING
PAT ROBERTSON
CALLED FOR

And so, my fellow Americans, we not only marched Saturday, September 24th, 2005, we brought along some of our favorite concerns in poster form, the menial work being done by two electrical engineers and two retired folks, one with multiple sclerosis.

And here is a poster we’re not responsible for, but it’s worth mentioning:

BUSH SUFFERS FROM
IRAQTILE
DYSFUNCTION

One inescapable quality of the protest was that it was not just about bringing the troops home; it wasn’t even just about bring them home now, despite the rallying cry. It was truly a referendum on every evil thing Bush-the-corporate-shill, Bush-the-pseudo-Christian-hypocrite has done since setting foot in the White House. Lying us into an unnecessary, devastating war that has cost lives needlessly on both sides--Iraq will never be the same, and much of its history and treasure is gone forever. Cutting taxes for the rich while watching the poor starve. Sacrificing the environment for the short-term gain of his corporate cronies. Driving us from a comfortable surplus into skyrocketing debts that will take generations to pay off. Fiddling while Rome burned and New Orleans went underwater. His whole smirking What, me worry? Let them eat cake attitude.

When we finally got back to the hotel, we were exhausted but happy. After all, this was our chance to meet with countless other Americans who share the same concerns we have and to vent years of frustration with the Bush Administration and its misguided, destructive policies. No longer did we feel like such a tiny, fragmented minority. One week later, we are still struck with how many older Americans--meaning older than us--participated in the protest: canes, walkers, wheelchairs, motor-scooters, and all. We are still riding high from our first march, still basking in its success. What can I say but Mission accomplished.