Rose walked out of the building, hitching up the straps of her backpack. She would be meeting Mari and Lizzy for lunch, then going to work in the bookstore, taking Lizzy with her. Children were usually not wanted in the bookstore, but Rose's supervisor permitted her to bring Lizzy with her on Tuesdays, since Mari was in the lab and Jack was working. As long as Lizzy stayed reasonably quiet and Rose was able to keep an eye on her, there were no complaints.
Rose strolled toward the lunch area, then turned in surprise as she heard a little voice squeal, "Mommy!"
Lizzy ran toward her, Mari following close behind. Rose raised an eyebrow at the sight of a chain of dandelions in Lizzy's hair, but Mari just shrugged and looked a little sheepish.
"We went on a nature walk, and it's okay to pick weeds," she explained.
Lizzy tripped just as she reached her mother, her dandelion crown falling askew, but Rose scooped her up before she could fall and straightened the dandelion chain, lifting the toddler into her arms.
"Hey, Lizzy! Are you ready for lunch?"
"No."
Rose rolled her eyes. At two and a half years old, Lizzy's favorite word was no. It was annoying, but she knew that the child would outgrow this stage eventually.
"Do you want chicken or a hamburger today, Lizzy?" she asked, setting her down and letting her walk beside her.
"Chicken," Lizzy answered promptly, having not yet learned to say no when a choice was offered instead of a command.
Rose and Mari both laughed, drawing a confused look from the little girl, who didn't understand what was so funny. Each took one of the toddler's hands and walked her along toward the lunch area.
*****
"So, Lizzy, how was your nature walk?" Rose asked her daughter as they waited in line.
"Good," Lizzy told her. "We pick damned lions, and look at the caccus, and Aunt Mari said that poltion is bad for the plants."
"Poltion? Oh, pollution." Rose nodded her head. "She's right. Pollution is very bad."
"I don't like poltion."
"Me, either." Rose quickly ordered their food and took the trays, heading toward the checkout line.
Mari stepped into line behind them, a slice of pizza and some fruit on her tray.
"For a naturalist, you sure like junk food," Rose commented, eyeing the pizza.
"Pizza's not junk food," Mari protested. "It contains calcium, protein, and other essential things."
"Whatever you say."
"Hey, you eat it, too."
"Yes, but I'm a music and political science major, not a botanist."
"Speaking of political science, how was your class?"
"Interesting. We discussed development issues in Riverside, including water, energy, roads, jobs, and schools. Pollution got in there, too."
"Ah, yes. Stinking, nasty pollution—be it air, water, soil, or what have you. I gave Lizzy a basic introduction to the evils of pollution."
"She told me. She doesn't like poltion."
"She's smart." Mari bent down to look at the child. "You're smart, Lizzy."
"I know," the little girl said modestly. "And you smart, and Mommy smart, and so Daddy. We’re great."
Rose laughed, picking her daughter up and balancing her on her hip as she paid for their lunches. Sitting down at an outdoor table, she watched Lizzy dig into her lunch of chicken and an orange that Rose had peeled while standing in line.
"I should take that class you're in," Mari told Rose. "There's no prerequisite, is there?"
"No. I just took it because it's interesting."
"Well, politics are important for naturalists, too, and your professor sounds like he knows a lot."
"He does. And he's very good at thinking things through. He's on some environmental committee in the city, too."
"I heard that there's going to be a meeting of sorts between several major developers and the city council, with county officials there, too. They're going to be discussing the development of wasteland around Riverside."
"What wasteland?"
"Oh, places like the few remaining orchards, the hills behind UCR, the undeveloped land around the freeways...all the places that we can't possibly leave empty of pink-roofed houses and shopping centers."
"But they might actually build houses of a different color," Rose teased her. "Maybe some more of those purple-roofed ones with the orange walls."
"Don't get me started. Over-development is bad enough. Purple and orange houses are eyesores. At least the pink and white houses can be looked at without gagging. But I don't see why they want to develop the land along the freeways. Who wants to live with the sound of rushing vehicles all the time?"
"Do you really think the developers will tell people about the constant traffic when they buy the houses? Of course not. Then, people will complain, when anyone with half an ear could have heard the traffic on the freeway."
Mari grimaced. "Sounds about right. Perris has problems with too much development, too, though not quite as bad as here, because Perris is a very poor area and everybody knows it. What I don't understand is how the people in charge can be so foolish as to allow further development when there's not enough resources for the people already here."
"Why, don't you know? It would be undemocratic to not build more houses for the people who want them. Not that ignoring problems and letting them get further and further out of control is particularly democratic, or maybe it is, since no one does anything about it."
"Some people do. You do. You never have been able to keep your mouth shut when you thought something was wrong. And I've heard you sing. Believe it or not, some people are inspired by what you say."
"A few."
"More than a few. There's a good-sized group that comes to hear you and discuss issues whenever you sing here."
Rose gave her a surprised look. "Really? There is?"
"You need to get off the stage and mingle with the audience. You'll never be a real protest singer unless you mingle with the people who support you."
"I never really thought of myself as a protest singer."
Mari gave her a look. "Rose, you've often said that political activism is what you favor doing. And your music reflects that. You pick out a relevant song and let everyone know what you think."
Rose sighed, realizing that Mari was right. "I am a protest singer, aren't I? I didn't think about it, but I guess I am."
"You are," Mari assured her.
"Well, then...I've got an idea."
"Uh-oh."
Rose rolled her eyes at Mari. "Let's organize a protest of this meeting of city and county officials and the developers. You know, like those people who protest meetings of the WTO and the like."
"Sounds like trouble."
"We'll have even more trouble if no one speaks out. If everyone just sits back and does nothing, letting the politicians and developers do as they please, we'll wind up with more trouble than if we speak out. Even if nothing comes of it, as least we tried."
"Let me guess—you want my help."
"You don't like over-development and pollution, either. I should think this would interest you."
"It does, but...it can be dangerous to speak out, Rose. You know that. Remember what happened when you spoke out so loudly against cameras in voting booths?"
"I remember." In order to prevent voter fraud, a city council member had suggested cameras be placed in voting booths during the last election. Rose, concerned about issues of privacy and the possibility that people who disagreed with the status quo would become targets, had written letters to the newspaper, the city council, and local political organizations. She wasn't the only one who was concerned, but she was one of the most vocal. When she had spoken out at a city council meeting, she had been summarily escorted from the premises, "for inciting trouble," security had said. Outside, she had been pelted with rotten vegetables, eggs, and trash by people who disagreed with her. Someone had keyed her car, and nails had been placed under her tires in hopes of flattening them. Fortunately, Rose had seen the nails before any damage could be done and removed them.
She had gotten her point across, though. The incident had been highly publicized, and the number of people voting by absentee ballot had gone up in the area, at least for a while, though ultimately better sense and the law had won out and cameras were not placed in the voting booths.
"I know it can be dangerous, Mari," Rose told her, "but sitting back and pretending that nothing is happening will be more dangerous in the end. It's the people who speak out and do something who make a difference. If we hide our heads in the sand like ostriches, hoping that nothing bad will happen, we'll be just as bad as the people who don't care, or who assume that it's someone else's problem, or who support the problem itself. We know what's going on, and we have the resources and education to find out the facts and get the point across. And," she added, "I'm good at organizing."
"Rose..."
"Come on, Mari. Let's try to do something about the problem. If we can get people on our side, then we have a better chance of succeeding. The lone voice rarely gets anywhere, but when other people join in...that's when something happens."
Mari still looked reluctant, but she finally agreed. "Okay, Rose. I'll go along with you—this time. But if anyone throws garbage at me, they may find that I'm not as much of a pacifist as you are. I'll throw their precious garbage right back at them, and damn the consequences!"
Rose raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't disagree. "I've always damned the consequences myself, Mari. Just don't do anything illegal."
Mari sighed. "I'll do my best."