I have never seen this parking lot so full of buses there must be nearly 20! Usually for the DC marches six to eight are the max.  All the engines purr like a pride of lions.  We’ll roar down to DC, hunt down the Beast, rip out its entrails.

So what do you call this gathering The pre-anti-war movement?  Ready to go Lucia says.  It s 12:25 as we head out of the lot onto Columbus Ave, to Interstate 95 and points south.

First stop, everyone pours out of the buses, and immediately I see old and new friends, comrades, even business acquaintances Enrique, Beth, Rick, a union organizer.   And there’s Roxanne and Shannon sporting Russian fur hats.  We re black and white Russians! they laugh.  Roxanne s a muralist, and Shannon, an installation artist are close friends, so I spend my time catching-up with them. 

How comforting it is to see all my friends, at 3AM, at a roadside McDonalds in Southern Connecticut!  It s as if we had arranged this meeting.  Such joy and determination in everyone s faces.  I am, for some inexplicable reason, filled with hope that Yes we can do this! stop our government from devouring the earth and her children.  I am thinking of other struggles against impossible odds David & Goliath, Beowulf & Grendel, Gilgamesh, and in our time, brave Cuba and determined Viet Nam against the United States.

Back on the bus we watch the film, The Children Are Dying, about the devastating effects of U.S. sanctions on Iraq.  A health care system considered by many to be the crown jewel of the Middle East, now there is little medicine, hospitals almost non-existent, water and sewer infrastructure destroyed, and over one-half million children dead.  Anger, despair, helplessness, courage, determination, and the will to fight are the feelings running through me.

IMAGINE BOMBS IN YOUR BACKYARD           

NO TO WAR

FUCK WAR, DON‘T KILL

DON’T MAKE US A ROGUE NATION

DROP ACID, NOT BOMBS

WISCONSIN MOTHER FOR PEACE

U.S. CHILDREN, 1.59 @ GALLON

MONEY FOR JOBS NOT FOR OIL

EMPTY HEADS IN THE WHITE HOUSE   

BLOOD THICKER THAN OIL

DRUNK FRAT BOY DRIVES COUNTRY INTO DITCH FOR COVER-UP  

RICH MAKE WAR, IT’S THE POOR WHO DIE

WAR DOES NOT DETERMINE WHO IS RIGHT ONLY WHO IS LEFT. - Bertrand Russell

The rally begins promptly at 11am.  It soon becomes apparent there are so many people it is impossible to see the beginning or ending of the gathering.  Here are all of the tribes:  old and young and in-between.  All the colors of the rainbow.  The Good, the Just, the Holy Ones.  I am thinking of the ancient verses, This day I set before you life and death.  Therefore choose life.   Here we are, witnesses cataloging the insanity of our rulers.  We say no to war!   There are many speakers, and they all keep to (prophetic) two-minute warnings:

Former Attorney General, Ramsey Clark reads the Articles of Impeachment he will file against Bush. Jesse Jackson is the last speaker.  He too, amazingly, keeps his rap to two minutes.  Just as we begin to march, my friend, Patty, calls me cell-to cell.  We march up Independence Avenue, bearing right on Pennsylvania Ave, and right again onto 8th, and march to the Navy Yard where we demand entry to inspect their weapons of mass destruction.  We are not surprised to be refused entry.

We’ve been marching for hours, and the cold is brutal!  Time for a break, so we step aside to the sidewalk.  Patty breaks out the hot cocoa and peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, as we watch our troops the Truth Seekers, the Peace Keepers, the Justice Makers pass by.  I am struck by how celebratory this march is.  People are dancing, whirling like dervishes, carrying giant puppets, in costumes, on stilts, in wheelchairs, wheeling baby carriages, changing diapers, marching with their pets who are also wearing protest signs, Dogs against the War dangling from a German Shepard’s neck.  Yes, we are all choosing Life!  It’s 4PM and the March is winding down. Time to find our warm bus, and rest, for the long ride home.

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