Making Plowshares, Even in Johnstown

Tonight, Jen and I took the boys to a vigil in support of Cindy Sheehan, the grieving mother who has been a pain in the president's ass lately. It was held at the bandshell in downtown Johnstown, which is more often a venue for fundamentalist Christian prayer functions and local citizens band concerts. The turnout was small, perhaps 25 or 30 people, but for a left-of-center demonstration on a summer weeknight in Johnstown, it wasn't insignificant. The only participants I recognized were the mayor and his wife, who have a son in the military.

Being there was a bit awkward for me, because I've always taken my work as a journalist seriously, and it wouldn't be appropriate for me to be seen in public engaging in political activism. So I decided that I would attend the ceremony as an observer (and to help Jen carry Carter and keep Liam out of the fountain).  I made a point of declining the candle that was offered, and I did my best to elude the roving lens of Bill Trojan, who was there shooting photos for The Leader-Herald.

I could tell I was making a few people nervous because A) I wasn't holding a candle like nearly everyone else, B) I was filming parts of the event with my camcorder, and C) I was carrying an infant on my back in a papoose-style carrier. He's a bit of footage I shot with some fancy, over-the-shoulder camera work:

http://hometown.aol.com/depotstorage/goose.mpg 

I struck me as funny that a candlelight vigil had been scheduled for 7:30 p.m., which is at least an hour before dark here in August.On the whole, though, the event was a moving and effective display of anti-war sentiment. Several people spoke up with comments about the war in Iraq, the Bush administration and America's dependence on foreign oil.

At one point a guy said, "it would be nice if someone had a guitar, and we could sing some songs," which for a second made me want to run home and grab my Guild. But I'm sure my boss at the Gazette wouldn't appreciate seeing me on the cover of a competing newspaper, strumming away and leading a gathering of liberals and Quakers in a round of "We Shall Not Be Moved." At any rate, the folks ended up doing some fine singing without instrumental accompaniment. 

On the whole, the event made me proud that even my hometown, whose population is largely conservative to the point of backwardness, somehow managed to yield a small but significant turnout of people for an anti-war demonstration.

 

Consider Yourself Warned, Osama

Folks around these parts like to take Homeland Security into their own hands. I've been seeing a disturbing number of these puerile "Terrorist Hunting Permit" stickers on cars lately. I suppose the folks who display these on their El Caminos think they're pretty clever, but so far I haven't seen one on the vehicle of a person who has actually gone to the military recruiting office to sign up for four years of armed spelunking in Afghanistan.

At least it's reassuring to know that Fulton County is well-protected against the jihadists, what with all these would-be vigilantes in our midst. Bubba Q. Public can safely run down to the Stewart's on the corner for a six-pack of Genny Reg'lar without having to worry about suicide bombers and improvised explosive devices, because the Terrorist Hunters are on the job.

Long Time, No Post

I've been neglecting my blog duties lately, and I must apologize. I've been under the weather and the kids have kept my hands full. Here's a little home video to give you an inkling of how I go about keeping Liam and Carter entertained all day long:

http://hometown.aol.com/depotstorage/faces.mpg