WITS 655,000 fathom it

The police have been called, as we stand in front of the republican headquarters in Stockton. We are on the public sidewalk, shoes spaced carefully 3 feet apart, tags reading names, ages, places of death laying forlornly on the laces. Pedestrian traffic is non-existent but the traffic light forces an abundance of cars to stop next to our banner & allows us to give out flyers or at the very least, urge folks to vote for peace.

Many give us the peace sign or just smile & wave. A handful twist their usually white, often male faces into some ugly rage & scream out their large truck or suv windows. It is the same every where.

The police have to bluster, caution us to not block the side walk, act like they are magnanimous in their decision to allow us to be there. They take our assurances as they speed off on their motorcycles.

Private security is another matter. Close to 100 minutes after we’ve been there, a little macho of a white male comes over to order me to move my truck. The other women look expectant – I negotiate.

Come look at these shoes. Come think about what 655,000 human lives mean. Come see the names of the dead. Come read over half of the dead are women and children.

He doesn’t come any closer but we compromise. He will allow the truck to stay parked there for 15 more minutes. He glances over his shoulder towards the republicans. He blusters about hurrying as he scurries away.

We continue our action. 20 minutes later the city police arrive, a young brown-skinned man with curious eyes. He approaches me.

Come look at these shoes. Come think about what 655,000 human lives mean. Come see the names of the dead. Come read over half of the dead are women and children.

He comes. He considers. He hears me say we are packing it up anyway. He parks his cruiser several parking spaces away, catty-corner, so he can eye the truck while eyeing our work.