We were packing up after another Overpass Light Brigade bridge party, and were standing around chatting in the chilly evening air. Some folks had already left the West Allis neighborhood where we park to be near a favorite overpass on I-894. I was putting the LED signs into the back of the Subaru, making sure that everything was tucked away for the ride home to Wauwatosa. Joe and I had been discussing where to meet next, since we plan to go out every night until the recall election, now only five days away. One of our overpass friends came over with an odd look on her face. I could tell that something was wrong. Somebody broke the window out of one of our cars.
I walked across the little park to Richard's car. A lot of OLB holders were gathered, checking it out. He was parked on the very end, furthest away and in the darkest area. Someone had indeed busted out the whole driver's side window. There was nothing stolen, no apparent burglary, just a big broken window with green crumbs of shatterglass all over the seat.
We called the cops, of course. They had visited us earlier, as they always do, though this time were cool about our presence. After asking about our numbers (36 people) and when we expected to leave (9:30) they left the bridge where they watched from their squads for the remaining half hour. Sad to think that while both of them watched us on one side of the bridge, we were getting vandalized on the other side.
The cops in this location have been less than amiable at times but when they finally arrived they were very nice. They even helped Richard clean up the glass from his car. A crime is a crime, and it happened on their watch and they responded with professional concern. They suggested we let them know when we are coming out to the overpass, though it seems to me they pretty instantly know when we arrive, and I don't want to ask permission to exercise our fundamental constitutional rights. We will, however, assign someone to guard the autos from here on out.
We can't prove that this vandalism was politically motivated. What do you think? White suburbs, "Stand With Walker" yard signs dotting the manicured lawns, instant calls of complaint whenever we show up, a violently bashed in window on the last lonely car in the line. Nothing stolen. It would almost make me feel better if they took a radio or cd-player. It would feel less like a direct reaction to our political action.
Walker supporters are running scared in the state. They're jamming phone lines, vandalizing yard signs, being paid to perform the illusion of grassroots support, while the taint of corruption is getting closer and closer to their ethically challenged Eagle Scout, making it more and more clear that he is indeed the subject of the ongoing John Doe investigation. Walker is John Doe, and he is desperately trying to stall. If he can just hang on until next Tuesday, then maybe his endless money to buy the best criminal lawyers can see him through his personal crisis.
I went home last night with a heavy heart. Violence is a very personal form of rhetoric, the language of people clinging to something not worth clinging to. It is a cowardice in the night, a dark static scratching of radiospew, an inability of an angry people to express anxieties constructively or creatively. As Isaac Asimov wisely said, "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."
Five days to go. Votes matter. Words matter. Signs matter. Images matter. Play matters. Love matters. I'll choose the team of creativity and joy - the one about light, and lightness, and bridges that might possibly span some of these constructed divides brought forth by the pinched and purposeful manipulations of the ideologically driven tea-bagger fundamentalists who will be evicted from office next Tuesday.
The grassroots will prevail.