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March Madness


The March on Washington was one of the most powerful and positive experiences in my life - all 56 years of this life. And this post, I have to warn you, will be as disjointed as the March!

I got to go with Matthew!! And we weren't sure if Delaney was going to be able to join us, but were thrilled that she could. She got to our hotel about 6:30 am having driven all night with two of her friends. After less than an hour, we all piled into the Subaru and began our trek through the complicated and congested DC highways and byways. After our drive Friday along the tollway through Ohio and Pennsylvania, where we encountered many many many others also going to DC and the March - I wasn't surprised by the traffic or the packed-to-the-gills Metro on Saturday morning. What did surprise me, however, was that once we got to within a mile of the March, there were more people than I had ever seen in one place.




Okay so the last picture wasn't taken at the March - but it seems fitting.

Being in a wheelchair, I didn't see much. (a lot of backs and backsides!) But I heard the speakers and performers. I was brought to tears by Gloria Steinem, an adorable and well-spoken girl named Sophie, a poet paying tribute to her mother the freedom fighter, a pastor from the Ray of Hope Christian church, Alicia Keys, Madonna and so many others. 

But the best (aside from being with Matthew and Delaney) was meeting people from all over the country. Including the women from North carolina who watched out for me in the line for the porta-potties (the most disgusting I have ever ever ever used in my 56 years). And one of the funniest side-stories I read was that the company that supplied the portapotties was called Don's Johns- and this is what happened:



The crowds were peaceful and cooperative - even though they numbered about a million.

I met one young man - Dylan - who was in a stroller. His mom kept the stroller alongside my wheelchair so that there was extra room. Well that was fortuitous because Dylan and I began comparing our strollers. His was blue, mine was red. His had eight wheels, mine only four. All of his tires were the same size, mine were different sizes. His had a hood, mine did not. He was at the March because he was sick and his mom made him go instead of staying home with a babysitter. He asked if I was sick too, and I told him that I was feeling okay and wanted to be here. 

I met a mom and daughter from Kalamazoo who were glad to see me in my wheelchair because it provided a small 'pocket' of air for the mom who was claustrophobic. And there weren't a lot of places to move or be in this crowd if you were claustrophobic - so I had a delightful conversation with the mom and daughter (mom mostly) as we waited for the march to begin moving.

There were four exchange students from the UK who were studying at Mary - land. One of the students actually called it Mary Land and was then corrected by another - "You twit, it's Maryland!" They had come the day before to attend the inauguration as well. "The crowd was angry and there weren't as many." They all spoke about how much they enjoyed the people they met at the March.

There is a deeper, poignant post about the March. But I'm not going to publish it any time soon - I don't want to provide opportunities to sully my memories of this incredible human experience.

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B

Peter Pan no more

                          It's time. Peter Pan had to grow up.  For nearly 18 months of his life, Matthew dressed in this costume. In this picture it's new, just out of the box. He picked the costume out of a catalog and when it arrived, two weeks prior to Halloween, he asked daily if today was the day he could finally wear his Peter Pan costume. He didn't like the hat and only wore it on Halloween, but the rest of the costume he wore daily! You read that correctly - DAILY. He wore it to Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with Meijer, it's a cleaner, friendlier, more 'upscale' version of WalMart), to church, to play dates and preschool ... Heck, he was three and adorable and it worked for him!  (Yes you read that correctly, he even wore it to church on one or two occasions when it seemed arguing with a three year old about not wearing a costume to church was not a battle worth waging. He once mentioned the priests wore dresses . . . I don't think Joh

Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be