Second of two parts
[Editor’s Note: A Culver City woman who attended Glenn Beck’s huge Lincoln Memorial rally on Saturday, Aug. 28 tells us today about the personal side of her journey to the East Coast. Since our society is politically polarized, she asked to have her surname withheld to reduce discomfort in her workplace. Herewith, her impressions.]
Re “Why I Felt Compelled to Participate in Beck’s Rally”
I took a flight to D.C. on Thursday, Aug. 26. On the flight I met wonderful people from Orange County. They were excited and wearing their Glenn Beck paraphernalia. I landed after midnight. It was beautiful to see D.C. at night, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol.
It was my first time to the District of Columbia. I have been told that D.C. exists because it gives the United States of America the best home field advantage in the world. The person who first made that observation was spot-on. I met up with a friend in Washington. The weather that Friday was superb. I was so worried that the humidity of D.C. in August would be unbearable. It was a great day.
With my friend, we toured the museums of D.C. and stood on the Mall. A small stage was being erected in front of the Smithsonian's American History Museum. The workers all were wearing pro-President Obama shirts. One had a shirt that read “Billionaires for Bush.” I longed for the good old days of ’07. It seemed to this tourist that people in the District of Columbia wear their politics not on their sleeves but across their backs and chests.
There were banners hanging on the stage of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Once the stage was complete, they played his speeches over loud speakers. Whoever came up with this simple and thoughtful idea was brilliant. In the 47 years since Dr. King’s speech, we have taken great steps in our journey of seeing people not as a race but as a person.
We went to Old Georgetown and walked down the main thoroughfare. If you ignored the fact that the buildings are mostly just two and three stories, you would think you were in Old Towne Pasadena. We ate at a great Italian restaurant and spent much of the evening talking to the very proud owner and a patron in his 50s who had a fight with his younger wife, who was an attorney. The patron complained that his wife would disagree with him point by point. It made us smile.
The Day Arrives
The next morning we got up early for the Restoring Honor rally. It was due to start at 10, so we wanted to be at the Lincoln Memorial by about 9 to get a good spot. We took the Metro rail system, which is great. Everywhere you want to go is a train stop away. We stayed in New Carrollton, Maryland, the last stop of the Orange Metro line.
We got to the Metro stop, and it was a zoo. About 250 people milling about, trying to figure how to purchase a Metro pass from the vending machine and then use the cards to get through the gate. To complicate matters, there were groups, who obviously had not been prepared for the purchase of Metro tickets. This was the only time we saw transit police. We got through the flags, strollers and throngs of people and got to the platform, which was just as crowed.
When the train arrived, we filed in like cattle. Standing room only. As we came to the different stops, I felt bad for locals unable to get on the train for work. They had to hope the next train was not as full. We got off the train early for a cup of coffee. Every station was full. We got the coffee in Chinatown and caught a cab to the Lincoln Memorial. The cab could only go so far as the police closed the road near the memorial. There were so many people! Only at a conservative Woodstock would people be hours early to a protest.
We climbed over rope, weaved in and out of rows of lawn chairs.
We were about 70 yards to the left of the speakers, 30 yards from the reflective pool. Saturday was not the weather of Friday. We stood behind rows of people on a hill, so that even with my towering 5-foot-6 stature I was able to see over the people in front and watch the speaker or the large monitors.
Quickly it became clear quickly that the deficit and other looming issues would not be discussed. This was a religious revival tour of one city. As a happy, non-proselytizing atheist, I found myself not straining to hear the speakers so much as to feel that sweet breeze it my face. It was hot, sunny and muggy. I looked on with envy at those standing under the wonderful trees that line the reflective pool. My mind wandered through my old memories of Sunday Mass as I heard prayer after prayer. I wondered if shade was a sin to covet.
A Lovely, ’Touching’ Scene
I believe Glenn Beck received so much heat for his decision to have the rally on the anniversary of Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech that he made this so bland and religious that no one could really attack the concept. I don’t believe the original intent of the rally was just religious.
At least I was able to find humor in the heat.
My friend was standing to my right ,and he is a bit taller than I. A 70-year-old husband and wife stood next to us. Neither was taller than 5-foot-2. The wife moved between my friend and me, her husband moved to my friend’s cousin. It appeared that the wife wanted to be in physical proximity to her husband. Instead of moving, she reached behind my friend to touch her husband’s shoulder. Again it’s hot and humid and now some woman my friend has never met has her arm around him, just so her fingers can touch her husband. He looked at her. A moment later she dropped her arm. As surely as there is humidity on the East Coast in August, her arm when right back up against his back. It makes me laugh just typing it.
My friend was able to express with a look and a word that being part of their loving relationship was not his intention at the Restoring Honor rally, for many reasons! They then moved away.
Moments after they released their embrace of my friend, another short gentleman walked behind us. He owned a pot belly that arrived 30 seconds before the rest of him. He did not bother to go to the right or left of us. He chose to stand directly behind my friend. The man then moved up so that his belly was up against my friend’s butt. Oh, the humor, especially when it’s not you! The man then put both of his hands on my friend’s shoulders. My friend’s facial expression paid for the airfare. With a mere “Do you mind?!” We were back to hearing the prayers and perspiring.
What was unique for a rally or protest was that there were virtually no signs or banners. One guy tried to “sneak” in a sign. He waved a large U.S. flag that had a banner above it for a religious website. People yelled at him “No signs!” Eventually he left. The only other sign that was up near me was the Kansas state flag.
One unfortunate thing happened near us relative to signs. The crowd was overwhelmingly white. I could hear a noise like a “boo” coming from the area away from the stage, to my left. I looked down the pathway and saw a tall male black carrying a sign, which read “Religion Hurts More Than Helps.” He walked slowly and drew boos.
It seemed the more appropriate response at this rally would have been one of love, right? He has the right to his view; he was silent and just walked with his sign. About 15 yards after he passed me, walking towards the stage, someone pulled the sign down and destroyed it. A clearly disgusted man said, “I never in all my life…” I hope that was in response to the man’s sign being pulled down. No altercation followed.
At another point the Capitol Police drove their golf cart-type ambulance with its little lights and siren towards us. Leading the ambulance were two Capitol police officers. One of the officers had his MP9 slung over his shoulder. I guess he thought he might need it. There were people who were suffering from the heat. A couple of people had to sit down, but everyone offered them water and they remained through the rally.
I tried to send my husband pictures from my cellular telephone, but could not send out pictures, only delayed text messages. Apparently, the cellular sites were overwhelmed.
When the rally was over, we exited the same direction we had come and found a taxi a block away. The cab took us to Chinatown, so that we could have lunch. We sat down at a great little Thai restaurant. I know Thai food in Chinatown. But, hey, I didn’t put the restaurant there. As we were enjoying the meal, we could hear “No justice, no peace!” being chanted as well as “What do we want?” over a megaphone with the retort, “Justice” followed by “When do we want it?” “Now.” It was the Rev. Al Sharpton’s group and their march. They were marching, unbeknown to us, to the future site of the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. memorial, right by our restaurant. I believe Rev. Sharpton did not know what to expect from Glenn Beck’s rally. The signs that most carried were pictures of Dr. King with “U.S. Out of Iraq.” I doubt that was the original rallying cry of the organizers. One 13-year-old led a sign “A job is a right.”
It was a great group. Everyone was decent to each other, and the Yum Nuea was delicious. We went back to the Metro in Chinatown to head to the Smithsonian. There were a group of six male blacks wearing medieval leather garb with metal rivets and wearing the Star of David. The person on the megaphone was telling everyone that the white man is a murderer and you know that is true because when the light of the sun shines on the white man he turns red, with the mark of the murderer. I thought a discussion about proper sunscreen and head cover would have contributed to the dialogue.
A Banner Visit to the Smithsonian
The Smithsonian had several museums. We went to two of them. It was great to see the first Washington Monument, which was essentially rejected by society. It had Washington sitting down on a throne, bare chested and surrendering his sword to America to be its President. Oh! The flag that inspired Francis Scott Key to pen The Star Spangled Banner.” What a treat.
Later we went to Old Georgetown and ended up in a line at Georgetown Cupcakes. I suddenly found myself in a 40-minute line for cupcakes. My friend’s daughter wanted them because this is THE cupcake shop from the TLC show “DC Cupcakes.” I’ve never heard of the show. The line was fun and great. We all laughed at our silliness of wasting 40 minutes of our lives to buy a cupcake or 12.
I was taking pictures of people with their camera to capture the moment. It was a party-like atmosphere. I’m sure the poor residents of the old Soviet Union would never have dreamt of our silliness. Ahh, to be an American!
So the trip was fun. I’m glad I was one of the 87,000 or half-million, depending on whose counting.
In compliance with the order of my boss, everything contained in this writing has nothing to do with the views of my company. They don’t endorse anything in my writing, at all. Heck, I can’t even get people to agree with me about where to go for lunch, let alone could what I write be described as the views of my influential company.)
This writing is not an endorsement by my company of the District of Columbia, the Glenn Beck television show, Thai food in Chinatown, the Rev. Al Sharpton, Metro, the Show DC Cupcakes, Georgetown Cupcakes, the Smithsonian, the Star Spangled Banner, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Memorial, libertarianism, union leadership, non-conformity, Congress, the Presidency, Sarah Palin, the (great) Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Yum Nuea (but it is good), Frotteurism (even if it is hilarious because it’s not you) or anything or anyone else.
Ms. Susan may be contacted, but we cannot tell you how. We just hope she will continue to contribute.
