“For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country. He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly……..” -Benjamin Franklin

After the seventh jam-packed Metro bus roared past us Saturday morning in the span of a half hour without so much as a gee sorry but this bus is full courtesy wave we finally secured a ride to the Womxn’s March on Seattle, hitchhiking aboard a kind stranger’s little pea-green Ford. Encountering the same problem as us, she had made the last-minute decision to drive as close as possible to the beginning of the protest which would turn out to be the largest political demonstration in the history of Seattle. She had more useful junk, ballpoint pens, spare change and dog-eared notepads in her vehicle than even the boys’ grandma and it felt like we were riding in a traveling hardware store as she disclosed her daughter was in the march on Washington D.C. while here in Seattle she was doing her best to rendezvous with friends in Judkins Park despite misaligned plans. We got into the heart of the Central District and a long line of stalled traffic was a rude but not unexpected greeting: Parking was going to be a monumental feat requiring precious time and our new friend implored us to get out and insert ourselves into the protest for her sake and I stood on the sidewalk and clasped both hands with her through the driver’s side window, she had a twinkle in her eye. We gave her our phone number to call in case she needed help retrieving her car in the evening but I knew we wouldn’t hear from her, she seemed no-nonsense to a fault. I won’t soon forget her kindness.


Later, at twentieth and Jackson a pair of soaring Bald eagles circling over the delirious sign-holding and chanting of the march elicited gasps of astonishment from claustrophobic thousands (which included far more stripes than the negative nellies chattering about self-indulgent identity politics could possibly imagine because their monologues insist protesting anything at all is a waste of time). The eagles lingered for so long in perfect formation, Adam and I at first swore they must be disguised drones, someone’s clever idea for a cheesy prank.

Finally, we had no choice but to drop out of the demonstration at Westlake in downtown, having fallen to the back of the procession over the course of four and a half hours. In the rearguard, getting a little impatient as they’re wont to be on such occasions were the fancy, dark blue police cruisers with hypnotically-flashing red and blue strobes and muscular bull bars: It was just us, a couple ladies with tired arms holding up a This is Not the End sign, some punchy elderly lesbians with bad mullets and the garbage picker-uppers.  We merged to the sidewalk with curious bystanders and headed to the monkey bars next to the hot dog stand where the boys played extremely rough tag with a band of rowdy, hungry children who also had exited the demonstration before its conclusion at the Seattle Center. The boys eventually collapsed in a sweaty heap, gobbled up a pair of hot dogs like vikings and we rode the train partway home.

4 thoughts on ““For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country. He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly……..” -Benjamin Franklin

    • Thanks for taking the time to read this, Ilona. You can tell I haven’t been on the WordPresser for a couple months- I just glanced over these last few posts and it dawns on me they’re on the awkward side for readability. Gotta dust my quills off.

      Speaking of the demonstration and stuff, what is the environment like down by you guys? Is it more split or trended significantly one way? I’m not as naive as I seem, just curious. We’ve gone out to the Peninsula a handful of times the past month or two and all the Trump campaign signs between Sequim and Port Angeles served as a dose of reality with pockets of sanity and refuge interspersed throughout. Washington state is an interesting study when it comes to political dividing lines, some far more stark than others (Seattle, east of the Cascades versus west, etc.) but isn’t it funny how stuff gets blurred? Household divides, flippers and everything…..

      • We are surrounded by far right Trumpettes. I was quite flush with sympathy last Saturday when some poor sweet woman asked on the Winlock FB page if there were any protests planned for our area. She must be fairly new to Lewis County. We keep a low profile, stay out of the lower yard when the neighbors are shooting their automatic weapons, which is most days of the week. We are hoping to find a less redneck small town we can settle in in five years or so. Don’t know where it will be. We have been redneck rural a little too long and it is wearing thin, but there are always folks who are lights in the darkness when you can find them. Port Townsend appeals to us and is reportedly a refuge for San Franciscans tired of quaking but it’s quite spendy. We lived in E. Oregon and that is ripe for a Bundy occupation with a sheriff that has amassed a huge possey of “deputized” individuals who is partly responsible for that one Bundy participant being shot, as he was on his way to meet with the sheriff and sympathetic community members. Glad to be gone from there TF. I prefer peace loving hippies. Olympia might be an option. Not sure I could assimilate to the city after being in the country so long. We are open for suggestions!

  1. There’s a certain irony here in that I admit to occasionally longing to pop the myopically leftist bubble of Seattle with the longest knitting needle I can get my hands on. Lot of cushy liberals, here (we need more rallies with a hundred thousand people because they bring in refreshing out-of-towners, including the hippies). But this city is one of the special ones, a not too-humongous big haven where countless people have come simply to exist as themselves and I wouldn’t ever want that to change. What I’m in search of is more balance for economic diversity. There’s a staggering disparity in wealth here that’s ballooning these days, I feel like a fish out of water. One of my favorite smaller towns is Port Angeles. Yea or nay? Cheaper than Port Townsend. Our family likes going there so we’ve had it on our radar for awhile. If only it weren’t for the inertia of our lives….. but at any rate, I particularly like Port Angeles because of the Olympic Mountains behind and a lot of people around here think it’s too hard to reach and they complain it’s not close enough to a major airport. I don’t drive a truck but I can blend in with the rednecks because I’m big and not very smart-looking. Speaking of neighbors, what is it about the wanton spraying of artillery? I fully sympathize with you. When I was visiting my parents in Podunk last summer, the guy up the hill shot his gun off for SIX HOURS straight one night. I thought bullets were too expensive nowadays for such tomfoolery……….

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