Marches and missions

Ever since the idea of a book-reading pilgrimage came to mind, I've imagined how much I'd like to speak at an event on March 8th -- International Women's Day. Guess I thought I'd get an email or phone call or Hogwart's owl-message inviting me to some perfect something (that's the way it has been working so far). But alas. No email. No phone call. No owl.

However, yesterday morning someone left a copy of the local newspaper on the table next to mine at The Nautical Bean. It was open to the calendar page which had an announcement about a Code Pink rally and march in downtown San Luis at 5:30. I emailed the contact person and said I was in town to read a little book about peace and would be happy to help in any way.

Lest grass grow under my pilgrim feet, I then drove 40 miles up the road to the largely hispanic village of San Miguel -- a taqueria, a laundromat, a general store, and a 200-year-old adobe and mud-brick mission that was badly damaged in the last earthquake. I left a copy of the Grandmother book for the nuns with a note saying if they'd like more to help with restoration fundraising, I would be happy to donate them.

By the time I got back, there was an email from the Code Pink person saying they didn't have a speaker for their event and would be delighted to have me say something!

Only hitch was, I'd have to use a bullhorn. Just like Police Chief Barker-Poles and his megaphone. Yikes.

Hundreds of people gathered across from the Government Building in the center of town. Many were in their 50's, 60's and 70's. Even though the march was sponsored by Code Pink, there were lots of men -- I love that about San Luis. Since I had no experience with megaphones or rally-the-troop-type speeches, I decided just to read two quotes. I started with a quote from the 19th-century British poet, Matthew Arnold: "If ever the world sees a time when women shall come together purely and simply for the benefit of mankind, it will be a power such as the world has never known." Then I read the Helen Keller quote that is the mantra of my journey: "I am only one. But still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something. I will not refuse to do the something I can do." Apparently the quote resonated because there was such whistling and clapping and whoopty-whooping as I've never heard!

A 97-year-old woman came up to me afterwards. She said she was too wobbly to do the march. I told her I'd walk for both of us. She smiled a teary smile and patted my arm. I've been thinking about that, and it occurs to me...what if the only way we'll ever really have peace is if those of us who are temporarily more able, agree to walk the walk for those who are temporarily more wobbly?