On to Washington!

The bus leaves tonight at midnight for Washington, DC, where who knows how many thousands of people will be marching and demonstrating for who knows how many different causes - including not "surging" the troops in Iraq. I will be on it, chaperoning my friend Jack who is a great guy but often in need of a little help. I'll also be driving Sally, a "Raging Grandma", to the bus. She's bringing a portable speaker system that the "Grandma's" always tote along.

This will be my second protest. Earlier this year I marched and shouted when Dick Cheney came to Rochester, and I'm sure my picture is preserved for posterity in the Secret Service and FBI archives. At least someone will remember me...

As you may know, I believed our president when he said there was no doubt Iraq had weapons of mass destruction and was ready to use them. When, three weeks after the war began, it became apparent there were no such weapons, I lost all faith in him as a truthful person and realized the war was a purely strategic act perpetrated by the neocons. I've since watched in horror as the country we never should have invaded has been torn apart by various sorts of chaotic forces, and we have been powerless to stop it because of our ineptness and our unwillingness to commit the number of troops that were necessary. Now it's too late, and Bush is going to kill hundreds more of our young men in a last gasp attempt to salvage something from nothing. We need to make a slow but steady withdrawal from Iraq, and leave no permanent bases behind. (Perhaps Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld could be the rear guard!)

We'll arrive around 9 a.m., march and demonstrate for awhile, and start home around 4 p.m. That's a lot of bus riding for about six hours of productive activity, but I hope I'll be sleeping for a good part of it. We'll be nowhere near the White House, since it's apparently impolite to petition the government where it really is. At least the weather will be quite comfortable for this time of year!

I'll write my report on Sunday afternoon, assuming I'm not occupying an 8x8 cell somewhere in our nation's capital at that time.

"Up the hill, down the hill, around the hill, through the hill!" That's what us paratroopers sang as we ran up and down the dusty trails of Fort Campbell, long, long ago. I never thought I'd be marching up and down the streets of Washington in protest of my own government.