This protest stuff can be hard...

Hi all -

I have been enjoying a little break from winter in scenic Fort Myers, Florida. I had heard from a friend in the "resistance" that several pro-life groups were sponsoring protests at Planned Parenthood clinics across the country. The protests planned for this morning included the Planned Parenthood clinic just south of where I am staying.

In has been challenging to figure out where to focus my energies in the Age of Trump. But it recently occurred to me that one of the ways I have long set priorities in my life is by choosing the organizations/causes I give money to. I made those initial choices many years ago and they have remained pretty consistent throughout my life. I have supported Planned Parenthood with a regular monthly contribution for decades. Why Planned Parenthood? I have always respected their commitment to providing health services for all women and most importantly, women with limited resources.  Planned Parenthood clinicians have, for decades, bravely provided abortion services despite the dangers of doing so. More personally, my mom was vocally, adamantly pro-choice. One of her last, fully conscious acts before she died was to write yet another check to NARAL (the National Abortion Rights Action League). I started my teaching career at boarding school. In those years it was clear that sexually active students relied on the local Planned Parenthood clinic for contraceptives.

Given my long-standing, write-a-check support for Planned Parenthood, I figured I could surely find some time in my not-so-hectic vacation schedule to attend the counter-protest. So this morning I drove down to the strip mall where this Planned Parenthood clinic is located and easily spotted my people by their abundant pink apparel. A staff person from Planned Parenthood organized our group, distributed signs, and had us spread out along the sidewalk at the adjacent, busy intersection. We probably outnumbered the pro-life protesters by 3-1 and the Planned Parenthood staff person wisely worked to limit any interaction between our group and theirs. One of the pro-life protesters had brought a megaphone and blasted vitriol the likes of which I have heard only on news stories about the lunatics from the Westboro Baptist church who have for decades staged protests at the funerals of AIDS victims (all AIDS victims are going to burn in hell) and funerals for soldiers because gays are allowed to serve in the military. The guy with the megaphone this morning spewed hate in all of the categories you might imagine - baby killers will burn in hell, gay people are all child molesters, and butch women are emasculating the god-fearing straight men of America. Huh? This guy had clearly rolled out this spiel before. He spewed for 15 minutes without taking a breath and he was still going strong when I left.

Two of my fellow counter protesters were a mom and her daughter Molly who is a junior in at Fort Myers High School. Molly was clearly upset by the hate speech coming from the megaphone man and she was working valiantly to hold it together as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mom, supportively, but matter-of-factly, told Molly that this protest stuff can be hard. My but I love parents who are willing to expose their kids to things that are hard but important. I did my best to distract Molly with a bit of conversation about school life. She is in the IB program, wants to go to Boston University, study neuroscience, and become a doctor. I think Molly’s mom has done an excellent job of setting her up well for the challenges to come.

We have some powerful allies...

Hi all -

Writing is therapeutic for me and heaven knows the current state of democracy in America requires a lot of therapy. I have done some blogging in the past and have created this site as a place to organize my thoughts and channel my hopes and fears.

It has been a very long year and a half and American democracy has arrived at a place that I never imagined possible when Donald Trump rode down the escalator at Trump Tower to announce his candidacy. But on January 20, 2017, Donald Trump became the 45th President of the United States. How the hell did that happen? I tend to be a pretty upbeat person but I found the events of inauguration day deeply depressing.

I am worried and I am frightened. I am worried that millions of my fellow citizens will be very badly hurt by the actions of this man and his administration as their access to healthcare disappears and their civil rights are trampled. I am worried that our democracy is not strong enough to withstand this assault on its institutions. And I am afraid of the potential consequences of having a deeply pathological president with the nuclear codes. When I was in high school in the early 70’s we were shown an absolutely terrifying movie called The War Game - a 1965 British documentary style drama depicting the aftermath of a nuclear attack on Britain. This movie scared the living shit out of me as a 15 year old. Decades later, the apocalyptic images from this film have traveled from the deep recesses of my teenage brain to my 61 year old pre-frontal cortex.

I have found action to be the best antidote for the worry and fear. Attending the Women’s March this past Saturday provided a needed hit of optimism. We boarded a light rail train in downtown Minneapolis on the assumption that parking anywhere near the capitol in St. Paul would be difficult. We never anticipated that the entire train would be packed full after the first stop and our train would leave hundreds and hundreds of people behind at subsequent stops because there was no additional room. The organizers of the Women’s March Minnesota had predicted a turn-out of 20,000. The St. Paul police estimated final attendance at 90-100,000! The voices of the millions of women and their allies, in the US and around the world, have restored my faith in the power of the collective action of principled people. And, as the cartoon says, we have some powerful allies.