I have felt so drawn to the Women’s March in Washington D.C. since it was first mentioned. How would I get there? I do not travel enough to jump on a plane and go alone. No one was leaving from my little town. So, I started keeping an eye on the March’s Facebook page – then, the Michigan March’s Facebook page. Finally, the MEA (Michigan Education Association) said they had 5 buses and one going out of Grand Rapids. GR is about 45 minutes from me. I have a teaching certificate, taught for 4 years in a Catholic school, spent 12 years as a teacher’s aide in public school, and am now substitute teaching in public school. Their website seemed to make me feel I might be able to go with them even though I am not a member. I filled out the online form and a friend in the MEA saw it and called to vouch for me. I called the coordinator. After two conversations I was put on a waiting list. Last week the email came that I have a seat. $150.00 for a bus ride, march, and bus ride home.
I am not completely unfamiliar with the area. This will be my third adventure in Washington D.C. I first went in February 1987 with my husband, then my fiance, to meet his older sister. She lived near so we went into DC for a day. My second trip was spring 2009 with my daughter on her 8th grade class trip for 4 days. I flew the first time and tour bus the second. My third trip will be a whirlwind. Each time I go the crowd seems to get bigger.
Washington D.C. on January 21, 2017 is where I plan to be. It would seem a lot of celebrities will attend. I hope there will not be too much dependence put on there “star” power. In my opinion Sec. Clinton’s using their draw power factored in her loss. We the people are not as influenced by them as it would seem. We look at the issues and try to make the best choice we can for our needs.
My going reaches to the core of me. It reflects my inner hippie (as I say). The decision to try to go also reflects my spiritual self. Some of my dreams from over 20 years ago pull me there. Dreams of crushing crowds, in another a long line of mostly women holding hands on a seashore facing the water, and another of me dressed in red with a soft voice saying, “one day women will be angry like you are.” I am not afraid in the dreams. I am serious and calm. My life experiences and choices have prepared me for a moment such as this one. I saw it my heart coming clearly since fall of 2015. I do not see an end of anything. I see a moment of choice. Our country is the only country that can make this decision between opposing views. The way we go so too may go the world.
I go for the school children I see when I substitute teach. I go for my LGBT friends. I go for my two adult children who will be left with aftermath of our action or in action. I go for all the parents with children with health issues because I know that pain. My son told he always thought I was liberal even though I never called myself liberal. My personal choices lean on the conservative side of liberal. The God I know is a liberal thinker. He gave us freewill. I do not believe He wants a government to force one religion’s set of beliefs and values on us all. I believe in the separation of church and state. Especially so when any religion is used for political gain and oppression of those deemed lesser.
My son is close friends with one of his college professors. He and his wife have been to our home, and I gave him a copy of By the Pond awhile back. When he found out I plan to attend the Women’s March, he said my sign needed to say peace to all who see it. As a child, he came to the United States as an illegal immigrant with his family. His father carried with on his shoulders through the water to cross into the USA. I sign my book with “Imagine Peace!” before my name. He thought I should work that as the center of my sign, and that everything about me needs say peace. I agree – but , that does not means I will not get out my cafeterias voice if needed to keep the peace. I am a pretty fair judge of when to talk and when to stay silent.
My poetry has been my therapy over the years. In 1993, an unusual traumatic event occurred with me. Poetry over the years has been my sorting out process. I have always had a strong spiritual nature balanced by strong doubt. During period of tremendous confusion, my poetry (sometimes more like stories my son thinks) helped me remember who I am, how I feel, and what I think and always have from a child. The theme I hope comes through is that we should not have our heads too far into the clouds or too deeply into the dirt. Life lives as balance somewhere in the middle with little visits to both edges. All 56 years of my life I have lived in Michigan. I was born in Kalamazoo September 16, 1958. My parents separated when I was young do to my mother’s mental illness. Dad died in 1965 at 29 from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was 6 when he passed. Grandma Peggy (my dad’s mother) went to court 7 times in a year and a half to fight for my younger sister (Kim who was mentally impaired) and me, because my dad had asked her too. She won custody of us. So, I lived with her in Bangor, Michigan through high school and college. I didn’t begin to write poetry until I went to live with my aunt (my mother’s sister) in Wartervliet, Michigan while attending Lake Michigan College in Benton Harbor. My aunt lived near my mother and her mother (my Grandma Elsie). After 2 years there, I attended Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts major in English and minor in Elementary Education. Right out of college fall of 1984 I was hired at St. Mary’s in Paw Paw, Michigan as a kindergarten teacher. I taught kindergarten for 1 year half days and was moved into a full-time first grade position for three years. I met my husband Gary during that time. On October 17, 1987, we married and I moved to Fennville, Michigan where I still live. Gary and I have a son age 24 and a daughter age 19.
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