I suck. I know. I have been neglecting this blog like the fruitcake at a dessert table.
But I have been waiting for something really good to write about, and thanks to Joe, I now do. And we are both still feeling it.
It all began last Thursday…
“So I’ve been thinking,” Joe said, collapsing next to me. I was relaxing and reading in bed, when he came in with a glint in his eye. I’ve been with him long enough to know that glint.
“How would you feel about going to Boston?”
Before I could register my feelings about what he meant by that he explained how he had been hearing more and more details about what was happening with the Occupy Wall Street protests, and in particular, that things were heating up in Boston.
“I just feel like I really have to be there. I really want to film it, I want to talk to people, and just really document what’s going on.”
He looked ecstatic. I was slightly skeptical. I kept asking questions, like, where we would stay, what would we do with the dog, can we afford it, etc. With every question he had a ready answer: we would find a place to sleep up there, we would take the dog with us, and that he would take care of everything.
I tried to be positive and hopeful, but my nagging pessimism kept at me. After some deliberation and compromise, I finally got on board.
We were to leave Saturday morning at *gulp* 3 a.m. yet I, still being on weekday-mode, found myself still vegging on the couch till around 11 p.m., leaving me only 4 hours of sleep.
I think I paid for that stupid mistake the whole weekend.
The alarm went off after what seemed like only 20 mins. and I stumbled helplessly to my feet like a newborn giraffe.
As we finished packing and at last got on the road, I suddenly got a flush of excitement. We would be witnesses to something so specific to our generation; something we might add to our list of experiences and tell grandkids about if it should ever make the history books.
Six seamless hours later we found ourselves in the financial district of Boston, and smack dab in the middle of a tent city that had been erected by the protesters.
We parked the car and made our way back to where the tents were. After discovering Joe was allowed to film we got to work talking to whoever would be willing to be on camera and had something to say (which was everyone). Joe interviewed all kinds of people- professionals and students, young and old, musicians and lawyers; yet their one unifying strand was that they were all disenfranchised and dissatisfied with the global governments and big businesses.
While Joe filmed, I looked around for some way to make myself useful. I noticed a guy walking around with a box of trash bags shouting for help with the garbage. Without really thinking I raised my hand and grabbed a bag, handing the dog leash off to Joe.
After some garbage picking I walked back to where Joe was, only to notice a crowd gathering. It appeared that a religious anti-homosexuality group had arrived with a bull horn, expounding hateful rhetoric. In response, several protesters began surrounding them and chanting things like “Hate is a Choice, Homosexuality is Not”, and drawing hearts with chalk all around them. I found myself chanting along with them and writing hearts as well.
I realized, standing there with garbage juice on my jeans and sweatshirt, chalk in my hand, and shouting alongside dozens of people, part of something. I wondered if this was what the people of the 60s felt when they were showing their support or discontent with something. It was very unifying, and unmistakingly American.
But, there was more America to experience- particularly the “Freedom Trail” which I pestered Joe about walking along since we were in Boston.
After we toured outside the old city and found the headstones of founding fathers John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and Paul Revere, we started to make our way back to the car and were told we couldn’t go down a certain street.
“Sorry guys, this street’s closed off,” a man with a walkie talkie and ear-piece in his ear explained.
When we asked why he responded, “They’re filming a movie.” And I couldn’t help but ask, “Really? Who’s in it??”
“Ryan Reynolds and Jeff Bridges. But they aren’t on set right now.”
Damnit.
A fine American day spent exercising American rights and walking along early American history could only be topped by crossing paths with great American actors. But we got close enough.
At last we found our car and made it back on the road to find a hotel and then head over to New York. What happened next? Dogs, dilemmas and disappointments…
But I have been waiting for something really good to write about, and thanks to Joe, I now do. And we are both still feeling it.
It all began last Thursday…
“So I’ve been thinking,” Joe said, collapsing next to me. I was relaxing and reading in bed, when he came in with a glint in his eye. I’ve been with him long enough to know that glint.
“How would you feel about going to Boston?”
Before I could register my feelings about what he meant by that he explained how he had been hearing more and more details about what was happening with the Occupy Wall Street protests, and in particular, that things were heating up in Boston.
“I just feel like I really have to be there. I really want to film it, I want to talk to people, and just really document what’s going on.”
He looked ecstatic. I was slightly skeptical. I kept asking questions, like, where we would stay, what would we do with the dog, can we afford it, etc. With every question he had a ready answer: we would find a place to sleep up there, we would take the dog with us, and that he would take care of everything.
I tried to be positive and hopeful, but my nagging pessimism kept at me. After some deliberation and compromise, I finally got on board.
We were to leave Saturday morning at *gulp* 3 a.m. yet I, still being on weekday-mode, found myself still vegging on the couch till around 11 p.m., leaving me only 4 hours of sleep.
I think I paid for that stupid mistake the whole weekend.
The alarm went off after what seemed like only 20 mins. and I stumbled helplessly to my feet like a newborn giraffe.
As we finished packing and at last got on the road, I suddenly got a flush of excitement. We would be witnesses to something so specific to our generation; something we might add to our list of experiences and tell grandkids about if it should ever make the history books.
Six seamless hours later we found ourselves in the financial district of Boston, and smack dab in the middle of a tent city that had been erected by the protesters.
We parked the car and made our way back to where the tents were. After discovering Joe was allowed to film we got to work talking to whoever would be willing to be on camera and had something to say (which was everyone). Joe interviewed all kinds of people- professionals and students, young and old, musicians and lawyers; yet their one unifying strand was that they were all disenfranchised and dissatisfied with the global governments and big businesses.
While Joe filmed, I looked around for some way to make myself useful. I noticed a guy walking around with a box of trash bags shouting for help with the garbage. Without really thinking I raised my hand and grabbed a bag, handing the dog leash off to Joe.
After some garbage picking I walked back to where Joe was, only to notice a crowd gathering. It appeared that a religious anti-homosexuality group had arrived with a bull horn, expounding hateful rhetoric. In response, several protesters began surrounding them and chanting things like “Hate is a Choice, Homosexuality is Not”, and drawing hearts with chalk all around them. I found myself chanting along with them and writing hearts as well.
I realized, standing there with garbage juice on my jeans and sweatshirt, chalk in my hand, and shouting alongside dozens of people, part of something. I wondered if this was what the people of the 60s felt when they were showing their support or discontent with something. It was very unifying, and unmistakingly American.
But, there was more America to experience- particularly the “Freedom Trail” which I pestered Joe about walking along since we were in Boston.
After we toured outside the old city and found the headstones of founding fathers John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and Paul Revere, we started to make our way back to the car and were told we couldn’t go down a certain street.
“Sorry guys, this street’s closed off,” a man with a walkie talkie and ear-piece in his ear explained.
When we asked why he responded, “They’re filming a movie.” And I couldn’t help but ask, “Really? Who’s in it??”
“Ryan Reynolds and Jeff Bridges. But they aren’t on set right now.”
Damnit.
A fine American day spent exercising American rights and walking along early American history could only be topped by crossing paths with great American actors. But we got close enough.
At last we found our car and made it back on the road to find a hotel and then head over to New York. What happened next? Dogs, dilemmas and disappointments…
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