Tell Us How You Really Feel

My little friend down the road has been shitting us off more often. She's taken a job at a local establishment called Clamdiggers. While we don't meet as often as we used to--the times we can, we enjoy scallops or a Shrimp Po' Boy--and it makes the absences more tolerable.

I left her a voicemail earlier today, to see if we could continue the get-togethers we've enjoyed for more than year. Getting no answer, I phoned her husband.
He retrieved the voice mail and spoke briefly with JB. As it ended up, JB and I were faced with entertaining one another.

I made Imperatix's famous pizza for our dinner, and we talked politics. It can get spirited.

But in the end, I always call the trump card. I remind JB that if it's so damned important, he should register to vote and attempt to make a difference.

Then we talk of the 60s and the 70s and the activism, and he tells me the protesters are probably now all Republicans. I refuse to believe that. Not for one minute.

I have slides (yes, slides) of Resurrection City-- set up between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. Time Magazine has this synopsis: "The encampment's six-week tenure afforded ample time to pressure a patently willing Administration to do what it could to help the poor."


It was 1968. Momo, I'm guessing, was maybe early 30s. Her sister was just 40.

Anyway these two chickies stroll through a--what would you call it?--a protest that lasted so long that people set up camp. They were living in tents and cardboard boxes, and cooking breakfast over an open fire. They were hanging out for a cause--and probably getting high and stuff while they were waiting.

But my mother and her sister wandered through, taking pictures with their Instamatic Cameras, with flashcubes, as needed.

I remember that vaguely. I do remember how relaxed and casual the atmosphere... and how it wasn't a big deal at all. No fathers were upset with the fact their wives had spent the day observing a protest like we'd stroll through a yard sale--with small children in tow.

And, as a result, I have pictures (slides!) taken by two crazy mothers in the 60s.

Its okay. I have a scanner that does slides.