I have been positively glued to my computer this week watching as events unfold in New York and silently kicking myself that I am not there participating in full force. I have no excuse for not being there, really. I even told Dave that I was going to go. His response was that I would surely be arrested the moment I stepped off the plane and that I would never even get the opportunity to protest.
Today's 8,000 person unemployment line was one place where I truly belonged. I am still unemployed. I don't necessarily blame the Bush Administration for this, actually, but I do find it troubling that during Bush's four years in office we have seen a decline in the job force in this country. This is the first time that has happened under ANY President since the Great Depression. The folks who participated in that particular demonstration did it peacefully and without great disruption to traffic or to those who call NYC home. And yet they certainly got their message across with a line of fluttering pink slips stretching all the way down Broadway reminding you that the next one could be yours.
My first act of civil disobedience actually happened in 1972. In Seaford, Delaware. We had recently moved there and that year a lawyer from Wilmington named Joe Biden was running for Senator. Somehow, and I'm still not exactly sure how, my parents were involved in his campaign. Perhaps it was just to help get the vote out in Sussex County which I'm sure at the time was notorious for poor voter turn-out. (I have a feeling it hasn't gotten much better. Sussex County really is known for just two things. Chickens and Scrapple. Seriously. Well, actually, Seaford is the Nylon capitol of the world thanks to the very large DuPont plant that calls it home. But really, Sussex County is chock full of chicken farmers and pig farmers.).
Anyway, in 1972, Seaford was a very small rural sleepy town with perhaps two stop lights. It was the kind of town where you left your keys in your car parked in your driveway so you could find them and you never locked your doors. It was the kind of town where you let your children ride their bicycles where ever they wanted to go and knew that they'd be okay and be back in time for supper. It was the kind of town where you knew everyone and it was a big deal to have lunch at the counter at the Woolworth's at the shopping center. Small town, safe town, kids are all right town.
In 1972 I was seven years old. My parents decided I should "help" with Mr. Biden's campaign to become Senator. They gave me a pile of bumper stickers and told me to go knock on all the neighborhood doors and ask the nice people if they would like one and if they would vote for Mr. Biden in November.
So off I went. Knocking on doors. And though I was seven and maybe even just a little bit cute, those doors were shut in my face and people basically told me to "Get lost!" I had at least 100 of those Biden for Senate bumper stickers and I wasn't doing a very good job of getting rid of them.
But I wasn't about to go home and tell my parents that I had failed. The word "CAN'T" was not a word that was allowed to be used in our household growing up. My mother constantly preached to us, "There's no such word as "CAN'T!" In other words, whatever we set our minds to do, we could do. Absolutely. No matter what. We could do it. So I was not going to go home with my pile of bumper stickers and hand them over saying I couldn't get anyone to accept one and vote for Biden. That just wouldn't happen.
Instead I got my two younger sisters and we all got on our bicycles and started going up and down the streets of our neighborhood putting those bumper stickers on each and every car. Before the end of the day, nearly every bumper in our entire neighborhood was sporting a fancy Biden for Senate bumper sticker. Every one. We went home and told our parents that we had "handed them all out" and asked for more. And then we went to the shopping center and proceeded to put them on every car in the parking lot.
Joe Biden won that election. He's still the Senator from Delaware. I like to think that my civil disobedience helped him to get elected.
