The cool, dry weather has returned to central Ohio, making a stroll at lunchtime irresistible.
Just west and south I can reach the edges of the city’s heart. You can feel the beat and rhythm that throbs just below the surface. You can see it in the faces of the homeless, camped on any walk or porch covered by an awning. It’s there in the silent crowds, working their way back and forth, looking straight ahead, never making eye contact. Sometimes it can be the loneliest place in the world.
Yesterday, there was an extra tension. It percolated from the crowds; they rushed to get somewhere. Some were rushing to get away. It was an electricity that had nothing to do with the routine lunchtime hustle.
The city had closed streets and barricades blocked cars west of 3rd from Spring Street to Broad Street. On the street in front of the State House, two police officers stood behind the barriers, talking softly and looking bored.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“A march for life.” The younger of the two replied. He had his hands tucked into the collar of his shirt and flak jacket. The body armor made him look slightly rounded. Combined with his youthful appearance and quick, sincere smile, he seemed cherubic, a small, bright light in the meanness that hung in the air.
A sound echoed from the steps of the State House became louder, if no more distinct, as I neared High Street. A woman was using a megaphone to fire up a crowd of true believers, and her voice rose, wailed, and echoed off the buildings. I could not understand the word she said, the magnification, feedback, and echo made it sound guttural and mean.
I wanted to get closer to hear what she was saying. I’m always drawn to extremes. Even in opposition I admire the energy.
An airplane circled overhead trailing a long, difficult to read banner, “Vote No on Issue 1.” With a website address. I wanted to get over, mix with the crowd, maybe tap into their manic energy, a contact high, at least prove to myself that they were not monsters, and I could walk among people who carried a different opinion.
I tried to hurry, and a young lady, maybe a girl, blocked my path and started talking. She smiled, introduced herself, and promised that she would only take a minute.
Okay, I thought, but I am in a hurry.
“Did you know,” she started, “that children are going to bed hungry?” She had statistics and images.
“Yes,” I said.
She then launched into a long monologue about the plight of the poor, and how the organization for which she volunteered was doing good things, providing medical care, helping with food and education, and I am not sure what else she was saying. I was watching as the scene across the street twisted, curled, and folded, the power of a mob. She saw I wasn’t really paying attention, and tried to ask about my job, the shirt I was wearing, “do you have any kids?”
Finally, I offer a five-dollar bill. Anything to get away, she was nice, young, energetic, and seemed to believe everything she was saying. Her boundless enthusiasm, quick, pleasant smile, and her charming attempts at conversation, held me back from crossing the street and joining the wild bunch of angry evangelicals massing for a march.
“We can’t take any money here, today.” She smiled and began explaining the procedure. “Can they e-mail me?” I asked.
“No, we ask you pledge a monthly amount. It will be charged right to your credit card.”
The crowd started moving to the street, and the bullhorn fell silent. It moved from a roiling mass of angry protesters to a disorderly, compact bundle of parade participants waiting behind an “Ohio March for Life” banner that stretched across 15 feet of shiny aluminum.
“I don’t do those things. I like to donate, and volunteer, but I like to do it when it is a choice.” It was true. I give to charities, and volunteer, but I don’t even like software subscriptions, I have two, Apple Music, and Microsoft Office. I don’t even have Netflix or Hulu.
She told me she was sorry that she had taken my time, and I felt a little guilty. When she saw where I was looking, she asked me what was going there. I looked at her, disbelieving that she had been right there, across the street from the madness, and did not know what it was. She was looking at the crowd, gathering behind the banner, concealed by a police car and a police motorcycle, and seemed unaware of what was going on.
“It’s a Right to Life parade. The policeman down there told me.” I said, pointing back to the way I came.
“Have a nice day, and look at the website, please.” She said, Pointing to an address on a brochure.
Having been part of a parade before, I knew it would be a while before they started moving. I was not interested in walking through a bored, impatient crowd of loiterers, no matter how much I disagreed with their cause. I turned and made my way back to work, stopping to buy a banana from an ancient Eastern European woman who had a fruit stand at High and Gay. She always smiles, and hardly ever talks, occasionally a thank you, or “please, take two.”
A few feet ahead of me, a couple were walking, they were young, mid-twenties, and she was loud, mad, and absolute.
“If you don’t want to have a baby don’t have sex. I don’t give a F^&k, just don’t do it, then you don’t have to fu$%^%g worry about it.” She said to everyone on the street and everyone could hear her.
Her companion, a short, round man, in a Cavaliers hat, and a Browns jacket, was more subdued, quieter, purposeful, and pointed.
“Where do the buses start again? How far do we have to walk to catch a bus?” He asked a man, who didn’t know. The parade route closed the bus stops at least until Spring Street. And nobody was sure.
I was not sure if I was sorry or happy to have missed the opportunity to mingle with the crowd. I like the energy, and you must be able to see people as people, not just points of view. However, life is only a slogan, not a priority., They want control. If they cared about life, they would have been lining up to contribute to Care.org, the charity the girl had been canvassing for, or perhaps joining with Moms Demand Action, a group striving for reasonable gun control laws; they are just interested in imposing their piety on everybody. We’ve tried that before, and it never really works out.
Freedom is the raison d’être of our existence. From the earliest days of civilization to the absolute chaos of today. Society has struggled, fought, and often died, for individual rights. Now we don’t have to fight, we just need to vote. We have to vote for a better tomorrow. There is no past, only a future, and if it isn’t brighter than the present, we’re not doing something right.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
