Yesterday, I experienced true power. Human power. When used is more powerful than wind, water, or even solar power. Nothing in my 56 years compares to what after being swept up by the tidal wave of people. Transformational energy. Simultaneous Combustion. The spark of Washington, D.C. spark simultaneously spread world-wide. Has this ever happened? The Olympics compares and my Ninteen Ninety Something Gay Games in Vancouver, B.C. counts, but people came together in one spot; more time spent organizing. Even Antarctica came out to show their support.
Before leaving for the Eugene March, I watched with fascination the Washington, D.C. March. Alicia Keyes lit me on fire and the Indigo Girls poured on gas. Inferno! What is that saying about Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman’s Scorn? Trump ought to know this fury as he has no problem instigating the ire of women. Well, anyone who’s not Caucasian and male.
Seeing is not believing. Television pictures of world-wide crowds excited me, but swimming in a sea of people in Eugene invigorated me. It didn’t matter that sometimes it was cold and rainy, more often than not, being shoulder to shoulder I felt a King Penguin. I just recently saw March of the Penguins. I felt that I was marching to help save our species. Our rights mean nothing if we don’t have a healthy planet to live on.
It was a strange omen when one of the main free parking structure eliminated half of the parking and no one bothered to put a sign out stating it was full. Once in the hive, you had to go up two floors before having to come down. Conspiracy theory?
We filed in amongst the walkers, I not really knowing where we were going, Sylvia with a map or two in her pocket. I’m good at following. Sylvia carried an umbrella, a foldable stool, and water. I wore my water bottle on my belt. I had my hands free for taking pictures. Not looking are my favorite kinds of pictures to take, though usually I miss hitting the target. Any target.
By the time we hit the apex of the mass at the New Federal Courthouse, it was impossible to know where the beginning of the March was going to be. Since Soromundi Lesbian Choir of Eugene was singing, we swam like Salmon. Surprisingly, even though most of my friends were there, I only crossed paths with a small handful. After glomming onto a pair of Mundi’s, we jumped off the lily pad to find a group gathered at Whole Foods, a very appropriate meeting place. Once the Soromundi sign is found our focus to enliven the crowds, to light them up.
We finished at the Workers Of the World where we continued to sing out and demonstrate that if we stand up, shout out, and stand out, we’ll be able to stamp out whatever Not My Presi-dent Donald Trump throws our way. No matter how much he wants to pretend that he drew the largest crowd in Presidential history also is pretending that he is wearing clothes and has a brain. We do not have to accept is alternative facts. If we could someone convince someone that he is a danger to himself and to those around him, we could have him and the litany of asskissers that have followed him locked up or at least medicated.
I started this blog while on my butt, watching football. Since the Patriots aren’t playing yet, I was only sort of watching. The more I wrote, the less I watched. I’m assuming the Falcons are still beating the socks off of the Packers, but I’m not even in the same room anymore.
I suspect that the next time the cry is heard to gather, the numbers will be larger; every time Not My President opens his mouth or some mealy mouse puppet speaks for him, the numbers will inflate. With our numbers we could stop the world! Now this gives me hope.