I spent the first two years of the 1960's locked in a Catholic High School--St Mary of the Plains--run by an iron fisted group of nuns from a branch of the Sisters of St. Joseph. It was the era of woolen black habits, clinking rosary beads, below the knee cheerleader skirts, modesty at all costs, and boys allowed in only if they stayed on the opposite side of the room. It was a dark time.
I escaped to a state university soon after graduation, only to find myself pledging a sorority that forbid PDA (public displays of affection) on its well-lit, grandiose front porch; smoking cigarettes while walking anywhere on campus or in town; and, entering any bar, tavern or club within fifty miles. In addition, we were locked in by 10:00 p.m. when beds were checked, and required to attend study hall from 7:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. if our grades fell the itsiest, teeniest, tiniest amount from the sorority ideal. I had descended from teen-aged purgatory to young adult hades.
During these historic years, I didn't march in Mississippi, I didn't riot in Chicago, I didn't smoke pot in Haight-Ashbury, and I didn't do you know what at Woodstock. But I watched it all happen. And, the good little girl from small town, midwest, conservative America missed the moment and the movement. I didn't have a single story with even a trace of scandal about "what I did in the '60s." That deficiency has always bothered me.
So--imagine my excitement when our New Jersey hostess suggested that we wander by Zuccatti Park while we were in New York City so that her kids (our grandkids) could see the Occupy Wall Street protesters. YES! Let's do that. It's historic, they should see that, and it would make me feel I was back in the '60s. Yes it would. Let's go. Now!
Every major movement needs a greeter and he's the perfect guy. Perched on a corner of Zuccatti Park, he's non-threatening, friendly and, I suspect, getting as big a kick from the protesters as he is from the thousands of visitors snapping photos as they pass by.
Yes--the entire 33,000 square feet of this Privately Owned-Public Park was covered with tents. Mostly little green, blue and yellow igloos. We visited at mid-afternoon and, according to the schedule, we were here at meditation time and it was very, well, meditative. Yes, it was a scheduled protest. Drums, announcements, lectures, classes, etc...were organized on an hourly basis.
Whereas, we know the Occupy Wall Street movement is primarily concerned with social and economic inequality in this country, it supports many sub-groups. Wall Street sins, various types of greed, union rights, fraud and etc. This particular corner was for those folks with student loan issues.
The press was everywhere interviewing, filming, and requesting that the protesters do their thing. Fortunately, this protester acquiesed and re-enacted the human microphone activity...although it took many participants away from their meditation. However, it was fun to watch and hear.
A few days ago, the NYPD moved the protesters out of the park temporarily and their tents permanently. Some were arrested, many returned, and others have wandered on to another day and another issue. They were a peaceful group, friendly, organized, polite, and rather quietly enjoying themselves. Some did hold signs with naughty words written on them, but many others did not. Children were present in the group, the protesters accumulated a library of 5000 books, and erected a tent specifically for medical care. They were a civilized group expressing--in their way--what most of us just rant about in the privacy of our living rooms. I'm glad they did it.
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