Every Tuesday afternoon some seven to ten people stand vigil at a busy commuter interaction in Oakland, California. The event started just after the person currently occupying the White House began their term. Alice started the vigil. She called it Town Hall on the Corner: “Bring yourselves, friends, family, signs – or use some of ours – from 4:30pm to 5:30pm at the corners of the Grand Lake Theater. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!! IF WE DON’T SPEAK UP, WHO WILL?”
We are into our third year.
At first we made specific signs depending on the latest horror. For the time being most of us have settled into consistent messaging ranging from compassion, outrage, or encouragement: IMPEACH, RESIST, Grifter and Liar in Chief, LOCK HIM UP, IMPEACH THE MORON ICE HOLE IN CHIEF, WE ARE ALL THE HUMAN RACE, B KIND, HONK IF YOU ARE SICK AND TIRED OF THE COVER UP. Susan is a stalwart for the relevant with her current CLOSE THE CAMPS / HONOR THE BORN. She holds a bright yellow toilet bowl brush with #45’s face attached just below the brush hair.
Alice’s art school talents have re-flourished. One sign is a black silhouette of children behind a fence with a blue-hued sky. Another is a lineup of the Trump family in orange jumpsuits with the words: I HAVE A DREAM.
My sign is B KIND. The other side is an androgynous stick family inside a red circle. Surrounding words say KEEP TOGETHER. It is tattered around the edges now, but the little plastic American flag still stands perky and attached above one corner. I am going for a common denominator.
I wave and seek out eye contact. That generates a fair amount of return waving and honking, to which I yell back a thank you. It is important for many that I see them wave back to me. Some drivers want extended eye contact, even though they are driving. In that case I give them an additional thank you very much and I hope their gaze returns to the road. Some drivers take both hands off the wheel to pump enthusiastically. One time someone slowed to hand me a twenty dollar bill. I gave it to Alice for art supplies. She took us out for ice cream cones.
Rarely, but consistently, I will get flipped the bird. For B KIND. It is always men. Once a guy got really into the motion with strident vigor, pumping his finger away.
The RESIST sign holder stands at the end of a median strip. Today, two lanes over a guy in a truck with his window open – climate crisis hot – yelled “How ‘bout you pay for mine, too!” then rolled his window up. RESIST yelled back “Your what?” Window down: “Taxes!” then up went the window. I lost the rest of the exchange, but the window kept going down and then up again. Later, another driver with his window down – still hot climate crisis – hollered “Go home!” over and over again, filling his car with rage until it spilled over into “Go the fuck home!” He was in a turn lane that can have a very long wait period. His bellowing continued for several minutes and even into his left turn. He had Colorado plates.
Over on my corner, three energetic guys pass. I greet them and one says; “You are doing something very important” before proceeding on their way, leaving body odor in their wake.
