Pacific Views

How I Bumbled Into the Protesting Business …

Did I sound a tad depressed in Saturday’s post? Yes, I guess you could say with some truth that I was and am. So why do I continue to set up my signs at the local park every Thursday like clockwork?

Why indeed? I’ve never done this before, for those of you who were wondering. Never carried a sign, never marched in protest, never spoke out. Always voted … always did that. Otherwise, I can lay claim to a good 50 years of a sort of naïve obliviousness to the world of politics. Sometimes I paid attention. More often than not I really didn’t.

Suddenly, the inexplicable happened. A guy named George Dubya wound up in the White House. And as a long standing member of an uncomprehending, ill-informed, lazy and/or just plain old uninterested electorate, I had a share in the blame, despite my vote for Al Gore. For the first time in my life, I now understood what it meant to be a truly responsible citizen in a democratic society. Just a hair late, I’d say.

So where to begin? What does one do to start turning things around? I started small. I made a tiny little sign. Did it in AutoCAD, as a matter of fact, so it would look halfway decent. Found a piece of cardboard to staple it to. I think it said something along the lines of “GEORGE BUSH DOES NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO DROP BOMBS ON IRAQI CHILDREN”. Notice … that’s a lot of words for a little space.

Took it to an advertised vigil at the park on March 20th. Almost didn’t get out of the truck. I was mortified. (Heck, I was scared you-know-what-less.) Of course, when I finally did get out I realized that the sign was so small no one could read it anyway.

So the next week I created another sign, double the size of the first. Bigger letters. Cleaner font. “IN MEMORY OF THE 574 – 733 IRAQI CIVILIANS WE HAVE “LIBERATED” FROM THIS LIFE SO FAR” (courtesy of IraqBodyCount.net). Still a lot of words, but at least I was putting some fire into the message.

The next week I began to create other signs for other people to hold. That was back when the war was hot and heavy and several people could be counted on to show up at these things. I learned how to pare down the message, increase that font size.

But just when I was getting quite good, Baghdad fell, and everyone said “Hurrah, hurrah … the war is over … WE WON.” And folks stopped showing up at vigils in more than tepid numbers. I mean, really … why attend an anti-war vigil when the war is plainly and obviously over?

You do so when you realize that American and British soldiers are still dying … which is an odd thing to have happen when a war is all but done with.

Eventually there came a week when no one showed but me. Just me. I remember I had 4 signs that day, so I stuck 2 in the ground as best I could, and held one in each hand. And tried to look brave. Much to my surprise I survived. In fact, I stood there for the full hour … plus an extra 15 minutes just to see if I could do it.

The trouble with one person, of course, is that you only have two hands, and thus can only hold two signs at a time. It became apparent that the folks driving by only saw a nut case out there on the sidewalk. Heck, after a few weeks, people weren’t paying much attention.

Civil engineers hate it when people don’t pay attention. So I dropped into ACE Hardware one evening … and discovered tall, sturdy, green, plastic plant supports. Bought a dozen in different heights. Came home, sat down in front of the computer, and started churning out signs. Bought lots of poster board. Set up a regular old sign factory in my living room. Created 12 signs. Edged them with orange fluorescent surveyor’s ribbon that dangled down in brilliant streamers. Taped the signs to my plant poles. And I was in business.

You should have seen the heads craning the day I took all 12 of those signs out there and planted them on the hillside behind me. Signs EVERYWHERE. Those ribbons fairly sparkled in the sun. The message was being noticed again.

The trouble begins when the wrong sorts of people notice. But we’ll talk about that another time.

Posted by Pat K., California at August 11, 2003 02:24 AM | TrackBack