Salem's Call: Local Voices

Well, the ball in Times Square has just dropped, and I had wanted to deliver some end of the year words of wisdom, something substantial, perhaps even pithy and wise. Alas,  I fear I have none of that in me tonight, so I will leave you with a short story as we enter this New Year, which I fear will make or break us as a nation. But I digress........   

My Story begins the morning of the last No Kings rally on October 18th. Now what idiot planned a rally in smack dab in the middle of Halloween season is beyond me! I found myself thinking how could the No Kings people have been so cruel! But of course they know nothing of the madness of October in Salem, at least not as we do. We who try to find parking spaces where there are none, or even attempt to walk down the street to try to run a quick errand in the month of October. These tasks become monumental events, especially towards the end of the month.   

I prepared for the rally as best I could. I had my clipboard as any of you who have organized events would have, and I kept all my notes and a suggested itinerary for the day. Between 11:00 and 11:30 I was to meet the speakers, poet, ukulele ladies, and the Lieutenant Governor I had scheduled  for the event. I was proud to have Kim Driscoll speak at our rally,  I was anxious to catch her ear to talk about the Dignity not Deportations Act we had advocated for. But mostly I was just glad to have everybody participate, and looked forward to greeting them and watch the rally evolve.  My daughter and I packed up the car as we do each Saturday, with the chairs, table, signs, items for our resource table, bubble machines,  and the speaker system we used each week.   

We arrived at Riley Plaza at just past 11. We unpacked everything readily, and our speakers and other rally goers began to arrive. The feeling was joyous and anticipatory. I asked my darling  daughter to go back to the car to get the speaker. She returned telling me the worst of news - it was at home.    

You can probably guess the rest. I gave up my precious parking space, and hurried the mile or so drive home in Halloween traffic. I grabbed the speaker and ran outside to catch the Uber I had enlisted to take me to the rally. At this point, I knew I would not find a parking space near Riiley Plaza where the rally was.

Of course we got stuck in traffic. To make matters worse, the driver informed me that we needed to pick up another fare. Luckily she was only one street over from mine, which I saw when she came rolling out of her house,  a young woman with blue hair and attire to match. I thought "there goes a modern day woman, perhaps she's going to the No Kings rally too?" Yet when I asked her she said "No Kings what?"- had never heard of it. But she was going to Lafayette Street so they could drop me off along the way. It was 11:50.    

    And we were stuck in traffic. Again. I tried to give the back way directions to the Uber driver who spoke almost no english. It's funny how you learn to communicate in such situations . Luckily I remembered two words from high school Spanish: left and right.  I was able to direct him away from the clogged streets, up to Flint Street, to Federal Street, down to Riley Plaza; all 3 of us were laughing at that point, although my laughter was of the nervous kind. At the intersection of Flint and Bridge streets, my  phone rang: it was  the Lieutenant Governor's office, to whom I most readily apologized and explained the situation,  and explained that we would be starting a couple of minutes late.    

The wind had left my sail, as they say. I became pretty down about the whole thing and extremely anxious, until I realized I felt like I was really in the middle of a Woody Allen movie. One of the old ones before Annie Hall? How funny could this have been - I couldn't have planned it better! Me sitting in a car, speaker on my lap, next to a girl with blue hair who'd never heard of a No Kings Rally? After all the Press Releases I had sent out, and the national promotions?! Away from my beloved clipboard, containing notes and itineraries and everything I needed to be on top of rally planning for the event which was about to start without me!    

Worst of all, I mentioned to my fellow passenger, who knew the whole situation by now, that I was sure everything would be ok, trying to convince myself more than her.  "When it's all said and done,  " I said, " I'm sure it'll all be fine, and tonight  I'll have a great big glass of wine." Which was true. And she said  "You remind me of my GRANDMOTHER." Wonderful.   

Fully anxious, I arrived at Steves Market, across from Riley Plaza. My singing partner, Kobi, saw me on the way, and helped me to the rally. I could see the Lieutenant Governor in the distance. The ukulele ladies. who had agreed to play in the middle of the rally, had taken it upon themselves to play music and fill up the empty space that was supposed to be the rally.. As I was running, clutching my speaker, Kobi right with me, I looked around. There were people playing ukuleles, singing. There were people singing with them. There were people dancing - in fact, there was an inflatable frog dancing with a inflatable unicorn!  

And I knew then everything would be okay, that the best laid plans of mice and rally planners don't mean a damn thing. It was not about me, or my plans or expectations.  It's all about the people, their experience and their energy and that was fabulous - and without me!  I actually threw down my clipboard and winged it. I started from ground zero, and ground zero was right there and then. I even sang a song to restart things off. Everything went well, even though it was not as planned.  

I had called for an "Open Mic " time towards the end of the rally, so people could come forward to use their First Amendment rights to free speech; in words, song or other. Everyone that wanted to  got a chance to speak, read their poems, speak about issues, sing their songs.  I finished the rally with a song, and people began to dissipate.. We began to pack up the car. I left the speaker for last.   

My daughter wanted to finish packing up the speaker, and go home, but I asked her for patience, and to wait just a bit. She greeted me with a grimaced look I believe parents know as "grumpy face". But somehow I didn't think we were quite finished yet.

 All that were left were the young people, the ones I'd been trying so desperately to get to come to our rallies on Saturdays. One by one they asked if they could come up and use the speaker, and they did. Some of them had angry words about Trump,  some of them went off on someone at their schools, some of them sang most beautifully songs that had nothing to do with Donald Trump or the No Kings rally. They just wanted a chance to get up and sing, to be heard. And I thought, what a marvelous use of the day, to just be able to get up, raise your voice and shout and sing, to use your First Amendment rights to free speech in the way you chose: what a great way to close the day.  

The last performer was a young girl who could not have been more than 14 years old. She waited til the end, when  Riley plaza was nearly empty,.there were only a few left. I remember being that girl, before I found my voice, being almost embarrassed by what I had to say or sing, or my very presence.    

She asked if she could get up and sing. It was a song from Pocahontas. She looked at the ground, hands in her pockets, and began with a pretty, soft, little voice which became bigger and bigger with each note she sang, until she was louder, prouder than she had been seconds before. Her eyes grew bigger as she heard the notes fall from her mouth, and as she gained momentum, and confidence along her musical journey. By the end of her song, she was smiling whole heartedly. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied my daughter. She was smiling whole heartedly, too.

 It was beautiful and deeply moving to watch her, our last performer of the day. Although the contents of her song had little to go to do with the No Kings rally and the movement, it had everything to do with what it represents and empowers. I hope she sings on.   

I was moved that day, by the speeches of the Lieutenant Governor,  future City Counselors Katelyn Holappa  & Lydia King, our poet Catherine Cunningham DeRosier, and the various speakers and singers who shared their gifts with us. But most of all, I was moved by this young girl, whose voice filled up Riley Plaza, even when there were few to listen, who had the courage to stand and use her voice, exert her First Amendment rights whether she knew it or not, and sing.  And, whether she knew it or not, wasn't that one of the things we're trying to preserve?

The rally was schedules from noon - 1:30 pm. We got home close to 3:30, with our time we'll spent.

So if anyone asks me if the rally was success, or if it went the way I wanted, I'd have to say no. It did not.   It went better. Somehow, it was perfect.    

In peace, love and understanding,  Deborah B 

 *** When I think of all we've done in the past year - the Standout Rallies each week, the national  rallies we participated in, the food and clothing drive,  our Workshops in Sign Making, Umbrella Painting or Protest Origami, as well as  the various actions we've supported by petition or postcard, I know we make a difference, in ways large and small. And we must find the fortitude to continue. The year ahead, I fear,  will play out right before our eyes, having the capacity, at this point, to mark the end of our Democracy, which I personally cherish, or into some new place, possibly darker, from which we may not return. I cringe when I think of the atrocities of the past year, the Trump administration's policies on immigrants, human rights, science, free speech, healthcare, DOGE cuts of federal workers which resulted   in two dear cousins who had worked for the government for over 30 years losing their jobs. 

So many of these atrocities are abhorrent to us all. We must stand  together, I truly believe, we need to stand up, show up. and fight. We serve as an example to our neighbores driving by, that they are not alone, and neither are we. We can, and do, make a difference. 

Let us continue to do so. 

 Local Voices***********  By request, this story will be stored on our website, on a new page called Local Voices. I encourage you to submit one of your writings to the page, if you are so inclined. Submissions can be sent to salemscall@yahoo.com.   Local Voices