Last night, I attended my first peace rally. This might sound weird to those of you who already know that I am a child of the 1960's. But I was too young to have been an activist, and my parents did not exactly admire all those SDS types who were burning flags and draft cards and staging sit-ins at the Dean's office.
By the time I enrolled at Cal State Northridge, "student unrest" was a thing of the past, as was the strategy of sending our troops to war without provocation. At least, until March 19, 2003. That's when our present Administration dreamed up a scheme to go into Iraq. That action has turned a lot of people into peace activists - even those who had never before dreamed of protesting the government...
...And even people who live in the northwest San Fernando Valley. I know that Los Angeles is one of the nation's bluest cities in its bluest state, but I would characterize my neighborhood as magenta on the Crayola color scale: a little bit more red than blue. We're just a 15-minute drive on the 118 from the Reagan Library, and this part of the Valley is still home to ranchers and horse people as well as upscale suburbanites.
That might be why the woman who hosted last night's peace rally for MoveOn.org talked about how isolated she sometimes feels living up here, and why she expressed surprise that so many people had indicated that they would be joining the vigil.
Although I've been on MoveOn's email list for years, my family's crazy schedule has kept me from committing to any of their events. This one was a little bit touch and go at the last minute, until I made the executive decision of cutting short my daughter's gymnastics training, so she could attend the vigil with me. (The kid only agreed to this because I told her it was possible that a news crew could be there. Alas, she must still wait for her 15 seconds of fame.)
We got there as about six people had gathered at the corner of Tampa and Plummer, adjacent to Northridge mall (the closest thing we have here to a community center). Susan read us the ground rules: we were to stay on the public sidewalk with our candles and signs. The vigil would begin at 7:00 and end by 8:00.
By the end of the hour, our group had grown to about 70 people who are all as sick and tired of this Administration's pointless war as we are. Many brought signs that had obviously been used at previous rallies. Some included endorsements for the candidacy of Barack Obama (I don't recall seeing any signs there supporting Hillary Clinton, but given her vote and statements on the war, that's probably appropriate).
I'm so inexperienced at this that I didn't know how to set up the candles with the cups, and even brought the wrong kind (plastic ones I stole from the snack bar at the gym). When the candles I brought weren't going out, they were dripping hot wax all over my hands.
Fortunately, many of the other demonstrators were old hands at this, even sharing stories of dodging cops with billy clubs, back in "the day." I was struck by how multi-generational the gathering was: older people, younger people, and even a few other parents who brought their kids to learn first-hand about one of our nation's greatest privileges: our First Amendment right to freedom of assembly, freedom of speech, and the knowledge that we can criticize our government without repercussion.
From the moment the vigil began, we were greeted with a cacophony of support via honking horn (including those of several Metro buses that passed us by). It scared my daughter at first, but she adjusted. Then, she was shocked at the sight of a grandmotherly type in a Cadillac, expressing her own First Amendment rights by flipping us off. I was a little surprised that it was about the only negative reaction we saw, but Megan was outraged.
"But she had kids in the car!" she said.
By 8:00, we were hungry and tired from a long day, and so we were among the first of the group to leave. We could still hear the honking of the horns as we trudged through the parking lot on our way to the mall's food court. An older woman approached us as we passed the Circuit City.
"What is going on there?" she asked in heavily accented English.
I explained that it was a vigil protesting five years of war in Iraq.
The woman gazed at my daughter, who was still holding her sign and then looked back at me.
"You are a very good mother," she said.
Cross-posted at MOMocrats.
For those of you who came here looking for something interesting to read, I'm going to have to direct you over to the MOMocrats, where we are celebrating the day with a special meme: Dreams of a Mother: 
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