I wandered about the waiting throng, looking for the best vantage. There was a taped off area by an inner parking lot. I settled there next to a handsome fellow with a friendly smile. There was excitement in the air. It was a good feeling. Democracy was on the move, getting things done for the good of all, and here I was, a part of it. Or so I thought.
The buses started to arrive. The passengers were slow to disembark, many needing assistance. Suddenly, the handsome man next to me called out, "Go home, you commie pinkos!" I whirled around in disbelief. "What!?" Who says that anymore? What is this? An old 1950's B-movie? "Dirty commies!!" He yelled again, sporting an appalling grin at me, as if expecting my approval. I watched his expression change as he realized he wasn't going to get it.
I watched myself through his eyes becoming one of 'Them' and not one of his 'Us.' I glanced past him and saw the rest of the crowd likewise dividing between the irate and the confused. "How did you... Who sent you here?" was all I could think to ask since I'd only just heard about this rest stop myself. "Rush Limbaugh!" he answered triumphantly over the din. "WHO?" The man literally stepped back away as if I'd insulted a household god. I followed his hatred of me (and all my kind) down the clench of his arms and saw a rock in one hand and an upturned beer bottle in the other. I was too shocked to be as afraid as maybe I should have been. Then again, I was never one to run away from a bully.
But what had I, or any of these people, ever done to this fella? This wasn't the welcome the marchers had expected. What about their rights of free speech and assembly? How could this simple bathroom break have been turned into such an ugly, dangerous gauntlet? Most of the cops were out of sight beyond the buildings, the few left guiding traffic seemed just as unprepared as I felt. Then I happened to look down. Just beyond the tape an older woman gripped helplessly at her wheelchair, desperately trying to move and getting nowhere fast enough. She looked up at me beseechingly.
To help her, or stand idle next to her gleeful tormentors was hardly a choice. Without a second thought, I'm proud to say, I and about two-thirds of the crowd took hold of the tape and ducked under it as one. I grabbed the wheelchair and all of us rushed back and forth until everyone was helped off the buses and safely inside the building.We looked out through the glass doors of our sanctuary at the befuddled mob still screaming and shaking their fists at us. Now they looked unsure after suddenly finding themselves not only in the minority, but left behind. Or perhaps they couldn't move because this Limbaugh guy didn't seem to be around to tell them what to do. All there was between us was a length of plastic tape and a row of unlocked doors, yet they didn't close the distance.
And I had never felt so distant from other Americans or so far away from the country I love.
Just a few city blocks from home I felt like a refugee sipping juice from a paper cup while local dignitaries gave half-hearted speeches of reassurance --even though they thought it better we all stay inside for the time being. Suffice it to say Hillary never showed up either. We waited over two hours, still a little in shock. "Anybody here REALLY a communist?" someone piped up. Everyone laughed wanly and groaned. "Just wondering," he added in mock self-defense. As night fell, the street finally cleared. We quietly loaded our marchers back onto the buses and tried to put friendly faces on our fears for them. Their bravery, like the march itself, barely made the news and now seems almost entirely forgotten. That was back in 1993, and I've wondered since how many of those people survived their health and money troubles once they were yet again left on their own. How many of them are left today who would still be willing, or able, to call out for a better way?
We would never let a child go hungry on our doorstep or a stricken neighbor die for want of aid. Yet children are hungry in America and people next door are dying every day for lack of resourses. Rationalize it all you want, make of them an 'other' somehow less deserving of concern, much less our care, the fact remains that we are all affected. Those who will tell you otherwise are cheats with something to gain from the deception. Time and time again they have been proven wrong, but how they can bank on all our short memories. To the Newt Gingrichs, Dick Armies, Karl Roves, Boehners and Palins of this moment, I repeat what was said to your fellow Republican Joseph McCarthy so many decades ago: "Have you no shame?" Your party finally held every power this nation allows but still you wanted more. Eight years of incompetence, cronyism, corruption and unabashed greed have left your, our, nation nearly bankrupt and in some ways, disgraced.
But we, as a nation, will step away from your angry, misled mob. We, as a nation, will finally unite as a matter of necessity and find a fair consensus upon which to build a better life for all our people. We will not fight you. No one will take away your guns or put you in jail for wearing a t-shirt. There is no conspiracy to deny tea-baggers anything but the right not to think for themselves or be a responsible citizen. In this information age there is no excuse for not fact-checking even those that you'd like to agree with. Speaking of whom, and to, Rush Limbaugh and Fox 'News,' may God forgive the misery you and all your patsies have caused. If nothing else, believe this: continue to bring only self-serving vitriol to the public forum and you will be found out. As one honorable Republican (who must be perpetually spinning in his grave) once said: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time."
There's someone who knows the truth, and she's looking you right in the eye. She's sitting in a wheelchair about to brave alone a gauntlet of illness, debt, and despair. She's not the first, but she could be the last. It all depends on which side of the line you're on.
