It felt weird to walk up my quiet suburban
street, solo, holding at my side a hand-made protest sign. I avoided people’s
eyes but could see that everyone I passed curiously scanned the upside down
text on my piece of cardboard. Have you ever been on a protest march all by
yourself? On your own block? Embarrassing.
At the subway entrance, I hoisted the sign
over the turnstile, scooted down to the platform and when a train stopped,
leaned the sign against the train’s doorway wall, out of people’s way. I slunk from
one side of the car to the other (with my sign) so that I could stand in the doorway
opposite the one where riders were exiting and entering. As usual, multiple passengers offered
the old lady (me) their seats. This time I pointed at my sign-on-a-stick as I
smilingly refused their kind offers. Now they think I’m crazy as well as old.
St. James Park was week-day quiet, still
filled with tents and guarded by police on bikes. I walked around reading chalk
messages along the sidewalks. Beside these on the grass were piles of cardboard
signs. “People aren’t for sale”, “We are the 99%”,
I noticed a group of teenagers. Their
teacher spotted my sign and said to them, “Look at this. It’s a bible verse”
They obediently looked over, with that killer teenage stare.
“ACT JUSTLY,
LOVE MERCY,
WALK HUMBLY WITH GOD”
Micah 6, the
Bible
They weren’t impressed.
The sound of drumming started and I found a
few First Nations guys gathered nearby. They had a couple of Indian flags and a
megaphone. After a song and a speech the leader started off to march to Bay St.
A small group followed.
Since nothing else was happening, I figured
I’d join in. I shortly found
myself dodging both the leader who was using the megaphone to share his
political harangue with stunned passersby and some tall man wrapped in a
cannabis flag, carrying a sign that read, “Hemp will save the world”
Oh dear. I did a u-turn and headed back to
the park.
In my head someone’s singing an old 60’s
song , “Signs, signs, everywhere a sign, blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind”.
(check it out www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3_2wjRk02s&feature=related
)
I remembered one more sign on the grass at
St. James. I didn’t write it, honest. In big letters on brown cardboard it said
“ God is here”.
