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I went marching yesterday.
https://www.masslive.com/boston/2019/07/never-again-1000-activists-stop-traffic-in-boston-protesting-ice-detention-centers-18-people-arrested.html
I didn't really plan to go. I'm afraid of strobe lights, afraid of running into trouble alone. But I had some extra spoons when my 3-7 plans fell through, and there was brilliant sunlight to drown out the strobes. So I went, on the theory that a big crowd would be better than a small one. I texted somebody in my synagogue to meet up, but we couldn't find each other in the crowd. I saw at least 5 other people from my ridiculously small synagogue, saw them to wave to, and Julian was drumming. (I had to ask strangers for help when I ran into trouble with petit mal seizures, and that was terrifying even though the marshals were great.)
We were walking through downtown Boston for more than an hour, singing and chanting. Traffic on the cross streets stopped to let us go by, and drivers cheered. I didn't think Boston drivers would be happy about ANYTHING that stopped rush hour traffic. I waved to pedestrians, and people standing on the sidewalk taking pictures, and called for them to join us...I think some did. I felt very far from alone .
The stranger next to me was carrying a shofar. She blew it when the speeches were over and we started to march. And she blew it to call our attention back to the specific purpose of the day:
Never again means never again!
Never again means close the camps!
Never again means now!
I loved that note of it being a Jewish march. I never thought I'd march through downtown Boston yelling "Never again" between blasts of the shofar. I never thought I'd NEED to.
Even though my conversations with the people near me were mostly limited to "What did she just say?" or "Can you see what they're doing in front?" the shofar was always very clear and understandable.
There's a Yiddish poem by Kadya Molodowsky, Ba'al Tekiah. I saw it ages ago, translated as "The Shofar Blower," but it was explained to me that the title means "the one who controls the sound of the shofar." Which isn't quite the same thing. I just found it online, without the illustration of thorns twisting into barbed wire and the shofar-blower seeming to call out alone in the darkness.
https://humancalligraphy.blogspot.com/2011/02/shofar-blower-by-kadya-molodowsky.html
https://www.masslive.com/boston/2019/07/never-again-1000-activists-stop-traffic-in-boston-protesting-ice-detention-centers-18-people-arrested.html
I didn't really plan to go. I'm afraid of strobe lights, afraid of running into trouble alone. But I had some extra spoons when my 3-7 plans fell through, and there was brilliant sunlight to drown out the strobes. So I went, on the theory that a big crowd would be better than a small one. I texted somebody in my synagogue to meet up, but we couldn't find each other in the crowd. I saw at least 5 other people from my ridiculously small synagogue, saw them to wave to, and Julian was drumming. (I had to ask strangers for help when I ran into trouble with petit mal seizures, and that was terrifying even though the marshals were great.)
We were walking through downtown Boston for more than an hour, singing and chanting. Traffic on the cross streets stopped to let us go by, and drivers cheered. I didn't think Boston drivers would be happy about ANYTHING that stopped rush hour traffic. I waved to pedestrians, and people standing on the sidewalk taking pictures, and called for them to join us...I think some did. I felt very far from alone .
The stranger next to me was carrying a shofar. She blew it when the speeches were over and we started to march. And she blew it to call our attention back to the specific purpose of the day:
Never again means never again!
Never again means close the camps!
Never again means now!
I loved that note of it being a Jewish march. I never thought I'd march through downtown Boston yelling "Never again" between blasts of the shofar. I never thought I'd NEED to.
Even though my conversations with the people near me were mostly limited to "What did she just say?" or "Can you see what they're doing in front?" the shofar was always very clear and understandable.
There's a Yiddish poem by Kadya Molodowsky, Ba'al Tekiah. I saw it ages ago, translated as "The Shofar Blower," but it was explained to me that the title means "the one who controls the sound of the shofar." Which isn't quite the same thing. I just found it online, without the illustration of thorns twisting into barbed wire and the shofar-blower seeming to call out alone in the darkness.
https://humancalligraphy.blogspot.com/2011/02/shofar-blower-by-kadya-molodowsky.html
