Tag Archive | No Kings!

No Kings! 3 and Sad Shoes

Mar28

Among the millions of American patriots at thousands of rallies across the country, there were about five hundred of us in Paonia Town Park today.

I arrived early to film the installation of a powerful art piece, ‘168 Pairs of Shoes.’ Local artist Virginia Unseld honored the Iranian schoolgirls slaughtered a month ago by US bombs. Throughout the afternoon, I spoke with people who walked the spiral and came out stunned, shaken, or in tears. (Video link coming soon)

Virginia acquired 168 pairs of little girls’ shoes from regional thrift stores. They cost more than she expected to pay, but when they heard about her project, store managers were generous; and friends also rallied to contribute shoes.

It was Wren’s first time at a public event like this, and I couldn’t get over what a good girl she was! She engaged with the many people who spoke to her, and honored some of them with extra attention. She slipped her collar a few times when I was conversing with someone and she wanted to keep investigating, but came right back with a gentle request when we both noticed. It was a true joy to have her companionship at this event, and she delighted lots of other people too.

There were many of her tribe there and she got along with all of them, even getting a little off-leash play with another rescue dog about her age, Cowboy. And she was happy to see some of her regular human friends there as well.

One of her compatriots had his own sign, which said ‘Crown Clown.’

The tiny red hats weren’t as popular as I’d hoped they would be, but the North Fork Immigrant Protection Team was grateful to have them and raised a little money. I left them with them to sell at the farmers’ market or wherever they can.

The day included inspiring songs and presentations from North Fork Indivisible members, including a singalong with Ellen Stapenhorst to ‘This Land is Your Land,’ and a tribute to our eldest matriarch, 94 year old Mary Smith.

Other protest art included these provocative television pieces by Karen Floyd, and Mary’s popular sign-making table. It brought home the importance of the arts as free speech, and also as a force in our little valley.

At the end of the rally, the crowd ambled past the shoe memorial to march downtown.

Just like last time, I lingered at the park awhile and my escape from town was curtailed when a city cop pulled up to block the road for the march. As I pulled over, grateful for the opportunity to film them, he tried to stop my car, thinking I was trying to drive around him. When I explained I was with the group and thanked him for helping he was all smiles. I thanked him again as I returned to my car. “Of course,” he said. I drove home with my broken heart soaring for a little while, humming This land is your land, this land is my land…, while savoring the sensation of community and the sweet spring air.

Under the Apricot Tree

Mar26

Savoring the sights, sounds, scents of the fruit trees in flagrant bloom this week, I laid a camping pad under the apricot tree on the day the petals all flew off. I was grateful to see a dozen painted ladies, a few bumblebees, some moths, and several other kinds of native bees as well as a few honeybees also enjoying the flowers.

The next day, the wild plum burst into blossom, and the day after that the peach tree buds started to open.

And Biko showed Wren how to enjoy a strawberry.

Saturday is the third No Kings Day national protest against the corrupt, murderous regime in power in the US. If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention. You can find an event near you here. I’ll be joining friends at the Paonia Town Park, and donating my craftivism to the local Immigrant Protection organization. These little red hat badges will be available for a $10 minimum donation to support local families affected by ICE terrors.

No Kings II

Oct18

I’m grateful every day I make it to the end alive, I really am.

Fresh yellow ribbon down the middle of the road, glowing October cottonwood leaves flicker in a breeze. They’re the same color: the ribbon not yellow exactly though we call it yellow, but the color of cottonwood leaves when they’ve passed their brilliant sunshine stage and a few days before they brown and fall to the ground. That stripe, those leaves, in perfect harmony; the roadside curve signs glinting the same color pointing the way to town.

A female northern harrier flapping and coasting over the arroyo. Guo Gu says “It’s all good,” and explains that even in the midst of great suffering, we can still choose to do the right next thing, whatever that is.

It’s an utter and complete surrender to how things are in this moment, right here: not anywhere else, not another time, not another moment, this one. May I never know the suffering of eight billion others, but only know and never forget, they suffer.

A golden eagle surveys the rolling sage flats from a power line T towering over the dobies. I’m driving to town for the second No Kings rally and protest. I’m grateful for this glorious morning alive.

The speakers were inspiring, the signs were creative, a couple of Portland chicken riders showed up and a big bad wolf. As she passed us the woman I was standing with said, “That’s ICE!” It certainly crossed my mind, it was jarring to see someone completely masked, but my more generous interpretation was it was someone bashful. Nothing bad happened.

There were young people and just a few children, and like last time, most of the protestors in Paonia had grey hair. Some hobbled on walking sticks and some rolled in chairs. I once again saw many old friends and acquaintances I hadn’t seen for years, and was grateful I could recognize and remember more of their names.

There were signs loving America, loving the planet, loving each other, and my own sign Grow Love. I was grateful I had all the right ingredients to throw it together this morning after thinking about it all day yesterday. I had one old piece of foam core board, remembered a stash of handmade paper, and finally found the Mod-Podge I knew I’d had in a box of magazine pictures for collage under the desk for years, but tidied away this summer somewhere obscure.

The inspiration was a distillation of Martin Luther King, Jr’s quote “Hate can­not dri­ve out hate; only love can do that,” plus the idea that we reap what we sow. Not to mention the nearly two dozen geraniums I ended up with to give away, and Garden Buddy’s basket of sunflower seeds in support of Ukraine. I was grateful to come home with only two geraniums and one of those is spoken for.

After the speakers the crowd I estimated conservatively at more than 400 streamed out of the park and marched through the neighborhood beneath autumn trees down to Grand Avenue. I packed up my stuff with a little help from GB and Son, and headed home. But I saw that instead of dispersing as they had done last time, the crowd was gathered at the south end of town, so I made a couple turns to get there. A cop directing traffic at the Second Street intersection let me turn to park so I could join in. They were singing “We Shall Overcome” in front of the High Country News building and I shot some video as they started walking. But I interrupted myself to get a still when I saw the macaw who was enthusiastically voicing his support for democracy.

The rally was joyful and uplifting, as were the more than 2500 rallies around the country and in some foreign cities. Early reports say that nearly seven million people turned out in the largest single-day demonstration against a sitting president. Friends sent photos from Gainesville and Tallahassee, FL, and these from Lexington, KY.

Cousin Mel knew I’d especially appreciate this Drag Race reference.

Enjoy photos from more protests around the country in this Atlantic photo collection.

Driving home my heart and thoughts again returned to the glory of the undersung cottonwoods, and I stopped on the road down into the Smith Fork Canyon to capture the colors, from the earliest turning in the foreground just beyond the power line to some of those road line golds by the river. I’m grateful for connection today, for the felt sense of interbeing with community and with friends far and wide. We will overcome some day. We’re in this together!

No Kings!

Jun14

Today I’m grateful for grassroots resistance, for solidarity and community in opposition to the current regime. I’m grateful for Indivisible, for our local chapter, for our founding mother Ellie, for everyone who helped put on a great event at the best town park in the county; for the volunteers and musicians, and the citizens who spoke, and for the roughly 450 concerned people who showed up in peaceful protest.

I was asked to speak as the co-founder of our Indivisible chapter, and after I was introduced by the Statue of Liberty, I kicked off the program. The video file of my speech, which I promised Gina I would share here, is just too big, so instead I’m posting the audio file, above. It’s just over seven minutes, including a moment of silence to honor with broken hearts the Minnesota public servants whose lives were stolen and shattered last night in an act of domestic terrorism. Apologies for getting Ms Hortman’s name wrong; let us not forget these victims as this fight escalates.

Despite the undercurrent of grief and existential angst that any open-hearted American is suffering these days, we had a wonderful time. Having fun, being joyful, feeling happy, each of these is “a revolutionary act in the face of despair.”

The first hour, people mingled, and visited the flag-making table, the sign-making table, the information tables for various organizations, and the postcard table. I saw a post on Instagram a month ago that tickled my fancy: A woman cutting trash cardboard to postcard size, to send to congressional reps: “Trash for the trash,” she said. So I brought my paper cutter, some pens, and some talking points.

An old friend sat down beside me and I put him to work drawing lines and stamping the blank cards while I kept cutting donated cardboard and roping people in to write to our CO District 3 congressman, Jeff Hurd. He said he wouldn’t vote to cut Medicaid and then he did. He campaigned as a moderate and he’s caved.

Many demurred, saying “I email him every week,” or “I just called him the other day,” or “It won’t make a difference anyway.” Then I dropped the “trash for the trash” line, and their eyes widened, their lips ticked up, and they picked up a pen. Messages ranged from angry to disappointed to almost kind, about the Big Bad Bill threatening Medicaid, Medicare, the VA, and food security, selling off public lands, selling out education, and more; several called out his consistent failure to show up for his constituents in many ways. It did my heart good to see so much engagement. Some people may have never written a postcard or called a representative, but now they feel empowered to do so. I’ll mail them all on Monday.

There were a lot of great signs brought from home and made at the park but from my vantage point I mostly saw great shirts!

It was a big day for me. I haven’t been to a gathering like that in years. I saw a lot of long-ago friends and acquaintances with whom I’d long ago lost touch, and was grateful that I’d only forgotten a couple of their names, both of which came to me before I needed them. A couple of people didn’t recognize me and I happily reminded them; and then there were a few whom I reminded of my name because they looked confused, then they quickly assured me they recognized me. There were many hugs and a couple of kisses and lots of talking in close quarters. If I get sick this week I’ll know why, but it would almost have been worth it.

I think my favorite sign was one Garden Buddy texted me this morning before I left home, just in the nick of time for me to print it. It lay on the postcard table, and one man considered it for a moment, read it aloud, and said, “Well no queens either.” I said gently, wondering how he’d respond, “It means drag queens.” A small slow smile brightened his face and he walked away chuckling.