I woke up Christmas morning planning to do the usual holiday things. Exchange gifts, call family, have a holiday meal. We did all that - and more.
I opened up the editorial page in that morning's Kansas City Star [Opinion, B8] and read a "Voices" comment:
"I can't believe that we have people who feel sorry for terrorists who complain that they were tortured. These were the same people who randomly killed innocent men, women and children in the name of their god."
I suppose that it is worse than torturing someone in the name of your own god - and seeming to excuse such on his birthday, too.
A friend who is retired from military service explained her training. They were drilled in the Geneva Conventions, and as a medical evacuation unit they were also drilled that priority of evacuation of the wounded was based on the seriousness of the wound(s), not the uniform. When someone questioned that in training they were told in no uncertain terms that this was an absolute. They and their proper actions were considered "force multipliers". That is, if the enemy knew that they would be treated humanely if wounded or captured they would be more apt to surrender.
That concept seems to escape some people.
After reading that "voice" in the paper I decided that I'd drive to Kansas City for the (still) weekly protest at the J.C. Nichols fountain at 47th and Main near the Plaza. If no one else was there, I was going to stand alone if I had to. My spouse decided to join me.
It'd been nine months since I last attended a Plaza protest. It's like riding a bicycle, once you do one of these things you'll never forget any of the details or what you need to prepare. The routine is all so familiar. We make sure our cell phones are charged. I check the battery on the digital camera and make sure its memory card is cleared. We both get out our passports (undisputable identification). My phone goes in my shirt pocket. The camera and passport go into zippered jacket pockets. We both make sure we have warm coats and gloves for the cold weather. It had rained the previous day, so I changed into older shoes in anticipation of the muddy ground (I was not disappointed). We place several bottles of water in the vehicle. I select a number of signs and put them in the back of the vehicle.
We approached the fountain a few minutes after 4:00 p.m. Sure enough, there were three people with signs already there. We parked a short walk away. As we approach I recognize an older women from previous protests. In our conversation she relates that she's been there every week when she's "in town". For three years. My spouse and I took up places on the line - me with my "...one nation, under surveillance" sign, my spouse with an old (from November 2002) "Peace on Earth" sign. The surveillance sign got a number of positive responses from the passing traffic.[Later in the day I received an e-mail from a friend who attended a Christmas Eve protest in Vacaville, California. She sent a photo. You guessed it, the signs in the photo were "one nation, under surveillence" and "Peace on Earth". Synchronicity. In the world of politics we would be considered to be "on message".]
We got a lot of supportive horn honking, peace signs, and "thumbs up". I ask the woman standing next to us how it's been over the last few months. She replied that the reactions had been getting better and better. For dubya nothing succeeds like abysmal failure. We did receive a few single finger gestures, disapproving stares, a thumb down or two, and those damned stone faced "avoid eye contact at all costs" looks. There isn't much traffic, but when we receive a supportive honk one of the old hands loudly calls out, "thank you!"
In the lulls we quietly converse. At one point a cyclist rode by, looked at the signs and called out, "Oh my god." He continued into the Plaza then abruptly turned back, stopping in front an individual with a peace sign. He said, "Who called me a coward?" We all looked at him and each other like he was crazy. The individual with a peace sign spoke with him quietly for a few minutes. He then rode off.
At another point an editorial writer for the Kansas City Star showed up. He stopped to shake hands or hug old timers, and wish everyone "Merry Christmas". There were only a dozen people on the line, so this was not a lengthy task for him. On his greeting my spouse replied, "Happy Hanukkah." He laughed and smiled.
The temperature was in the mid thirties. As the sun set the temperature started to drop. At 5:00 p.m. we left the line to walk to our vehicle for the hour long drive home.
posted at the moon's favors
