It was glorious! You’ve read by now that it was three times the size the organizers had hoped, and that the sister marches were also gigantic, everywhere. (Apparently there were six marches in Alaska!) The energy was electric, joyous, and kind. (At one point I was chanting, “Show me what democracy looks like!” until I started to cough. I muttered, “Show me what a cough drop looks like,” and the total stranger behind me grinned, reached into her pocket, and gave me one.) Also, the energy was funny. The one percent is on their side, but the laughter is on ours. We’ll harness this energy and keep up this fight. My favorite chant: “Welcome to your first day! We will never go away!”
(Photos below by me, Jackie Freimor, and Lorena Vivas.)
Me, my marching buddies, and our pussy hats.
The escalator down into the Metro — AFTER we waited in a half hour line to get to it!
What genius ordered these?
My favorite sign.
Below, more great signs and shirts:
LOVE this one:
And finally, the call to arms:
Cold in the apartment.
Warm in the just-out-of-the-dryer laundry basket.
Early this winter one of my neighbors hung a whole bunch of fake cardinals in a front-yard tree. Yesterday it snowed, and I actually burst out laughing on the street this morning.
In the words of my hero Leonard Cohen, lost in 2016 but still with us in the ways that matter:
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
I can’t run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned up
And they’re going to hear from me
I wish you all a productive and powerful 2017!
Green swells roll slowly,
Lap up seawall, slide away,
Dotted with raindrops.
Gulls circle, swoop, land.
Cormorant pops up with fish.
Starlings fly above.
Blue lights on railing.
Snow on branches, walkway, grass.
Red life preserver.
Finally, the 2017 Accordion Calendar is here!
Sorry, I had technical issues, which I’m still having, hence the url to copy and not a link to click:
And don’t forget the New York and Assisi calendars, too.
Proceeds to Planned Parenthood.
For your gift-buying pleasure, including, of course, gifts for yourself. They’re not quite all here (kind of like me) — Accordions to come, give me a few days. But
New York City is here
Assisi is here.
And please note: Proceeds this year go to Planned Parenthood. So, buy away!
Well, it’s Thanksgiving. I hope we’re all surrounded by family and friends, allowing ourselves to feel gratitude for what we have and to gather strength from each other for the coming times. I’m grateful, among other things, for all of you. I’m grateful, also, to have a voice, and I intend to use it.
The haiku have been on hiatus (no, I couldn’t resist that line, would you have?) but now that we’re in for a long, dark time, I feel the need to write them again. So they’re back, now with photos.
Bright windless morning
Gulls cry, loud in the quiet
Sun glints on ripples
Hawk slides across moon
Circles up on rising drafts
A black speck, then gone
Patrol boat churns past
White wake rises, fades again
Glassy water shines
My grandmother was born in this country, where she could not vote. My mother, her second child, was born the year women got the vote, a few weeks after the first election women were allow to vote in. When I was a kid, my mother would wait to vote until my father came home. She’d have dinner all ready, but before we ate we’d all go to the local high school where we’d all stand in line together and then each of them would go in the voting booth. They wanted to make sure we all understood how special this right was. When I became eligible to vote I cast my first few votes in that high school.
I’m speaking now to women. If you’re so disgusted with both parties you’ve thrown up your hands and have decided the whole thing stinks so badly you’ll have nothing to do with it, that’s a healthy reaction. But not a practical one. One of these two people will be President. If you don’t vote for the woman, you’re voting for the man who pushes himself on women. The man who rates women on a ten-point scale and says women who have abortions should be punished.
You don’t have to love her. You don’t even have to like her. But you can’t sit it out. If you like him less, then get out and vote. Vote for your mother, your grandmother, all your female ancestors back through the mists of time. All those women who had no say. You have a say. VOTE!
Grandma says: VOTE!