|The barricades arisen|
I wanted to help and I was curious to see what I would see.
|Organized and administered|
|Keeping informed, informing|
Not all the folks at the camp are hippies, though. Not by a long shot. There can be no categorical description of the people at the camp. They're just Americans. Everyday Americans. (I did meet an elderly woman from Argentina, la quien habló conmigo de San Carlos de Barriloche.)
Still, I have learned over these last two decades, one protest march isn't going to change anything. If we want change, only a sustained and organized effort will suffice.
So, I've been thinking about the Occupy Portland folks ever since the big march. Every day, I've held my breath, hoping that their efforts would not falter. It's hard living in a camp in the rain in the middle of a bustling city. But they're doing it. And they can't be ignored. So I have to help.
Let me encourage you, dear reader: if you're at all sympathetic to this movement, this statement of outrage, this demand for reform, go to 3rd and Main and see for yourself what is down there. And, if you can find some way to help, so much the better.
This could be history in the making.
That's just it with humans. Broken hearts don't give up. The romantics among us go through life with the forlorn hope that there is deep wisdom in the Universe --a wisdom we cannot grasp, but that we know is just and beautiful. I'm banking on it.