No Kings Rally In Austin, Texas

I had the October 18th No Kings Rally on my radar and calendar for weeks and planned to attend. I had not shown up at a political rally since January 21st 2017 when my daughter and I attended the Women’s March Against Trump at the Texas State Capitol. At that time I attended a volunteer session put on by the organizers and helped pass out signs (I forget what they said). I carried my own sign which read “To gather strength and give support”). I grew up in Austin and I remember my dad taking me, my brother, my 3 stepsisters, and my stepmother to see the Klan march at the State Capitol in 1965. I was 11. I remember my dad saying that if there was trouble, we should meet back at the car. I also remember being appalled that there were little children in klan garb. Over the years I have attended many rallys and protests at the Capitol, mostly to take photos.

This time I felt compelled to show up because I have been sitting on the sidelines doing nothing as our country needs help. I have sent a few letters to Congresspeople supporting the ones doing the good work, but other than keep track of what is going on, I have done nothing. It was forecast to be very hot that day and I kept going back and forth. Am I going or not? Finally I made my decision and planned to meet up with a friend there. My family members opted out for heat and other reasons. I would represent our family.

Well, folks, it was horribly hot! The temperature was 95 and it was humid and I don’t tolerate heat as well as in my earlier years. But, I brought water and wore a hat. I also wore my bluebonnet t-shirt (our state flower) and my monarch butterfly earrings. My husband and daughter dropped me off on the northwest side of the capitol and I joined others the few blocks to the grounds.

Our bags were checked for weapons before we were allowed on the grounds.

I wandered around looking at all the colorful costumes and signs and listened a bit to the speakers. I mostly gravitated to the shade of the old oaks on the grounds. My friend texted she was running late (we never did meet up). The Austin police were there and I spotted our police chief standing under a tree while one of her fellow officers spoke to a reporter. Our police chief and other officers did join the march.

I walked south hoping to get a shot of the march coming down Congress avenue. I had to dodge people on scooters and bicycles (including some cops riding on the sidewalk) as I waited. Chatted with some friendly folks. The energy was joyful and strong.

The March Begins at 11th st. and Congress Ave.

“Humanity Over Greed”

“World Without Caesars”

Guy In Banana Suit “Bananas For Democracy”

The costumes were fun, but I imagine very hot!

The pink costume is an Axohotl …Sorry the shot is not better…there were more Axohotl costumes there and many dinosaurs and a bee and a chicken…

I heard people singing Bye Bye Mrs. American Pie and drummers and there was a woman leading an aerobics dance group in the middle of the march (her face was very red!). I saw a banner that read “Raging Grannies” and yes, there were frog costumes.

One complaint I have is that there were people with dogs on leashes and one guy had a live chicken in a plastic box…it was way too hot to drag these little critters along.

On a positive note, there were multiple people working the crowd offering water and a woman handing out small American flags (I took one). And the age range covered the old and the young. There were people of all colors, some with rainbow flags, some with American flags, and some with an interesting hybrid Mexican and American flag. I saw people in wheelchairs and blind people with canes.

It was wonderful being there with all these beautiful people standing up for our country!

(full disclosure…it was hot and I only went as far as 5th street where I peeled off and walked west to hitch a ride back home with my husband and daughter)

*Check out info on the Axohotl at this link:

britannica.com/animal/axolotl

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

               I am struggling with writing this month’s blog. I don’t think I can write a coherent essay about my feelings during this time of craziness because they are all over the place. So many things in opposition. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”*

Staying at home or going out with a mask vs. pretending it is all a hoax and chastising mask wearers (as happened to a friend of mine in the grocery store)

Staying at home or marching in the streets

Protestors with masks can still be heard

You can breathe in a mask but you cannot breath with a knee on your neck

Fever of the current corona virus and the fever of rage and protest

I heard some interesting words on a recent PBS News Hour. An African American woman comparing the crime tool luminol to the corona virus. Just as luminol under UV light will show blood that was invisible before, the virus has helped in exposing the underlying racism in our country because of how disproportionally the virus is affecting the black population.

The multiracial crowds standing tall with arms uplifted in protest versus African American, George Floyd, handcuffed on the ground with a white policeman’s knee on his neck

The best of us: George Floyd was described as a “gentle giant” (The Guardian.com)

The worst of us: The white policeman holding him down

The best of us: The protestors being there and giving voice to what needs to be heard

The worst of us: The anarchists fomenting violence and destruction

The sadness and pain and fear and outrage in me giving way to the joy of seeing Astronauts Bob Behnken (age 49) and Doug Hurley (age 53), flying away from Earth in the Space X capsule called the Dragon atop the Falcon rocket, filling my heart with pure joy at the fantastic images of the launch

 Bob and Doug (both white) hurtling into space, their second stage engine cutting off at 8 minutes and 47 seconds

A knee on grounded, George Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds, his soul flying into the ether too soon (he was 46 years old)

May he rest in peace

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Eastern Bluebird photo by Betty McCreary

*Quote from the opening of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens (1859)