Celebrating freedom of speech wi

Like I said, it was my first real demonstration, but there were a couple of things that really weren't very surprising. There were a few of those really, really intense folks; you know, the kind that walk up to you and talk to you very rapidly-and-ask-you-to-please-be-sure-and-sign-the-petition. Also, I don't think any demonstration would be complete without someone at some point launching into a chant that begins “Hey, Hey, Ho, Ho....”

But there were also a number of surprises about this event - and they were all very pleasant surprises. For example, there were lots and lots of young people there. There were also free balloons - as a matter of fact, I think there were more balloons than there were signs. Also, everyone actually seemed to be having a nice time: there was no sense of desperation or outrage; the atmosphere was relaxed and even kind of festive.

As we started walking up Congress Avenue, we were led by a group of distinguished looking gentlemen. They wore dark suits, but they also had on scarlet capes and commodore hats with white plumes. I think they were with the Knights of Columbus. They all looked very elegant and very old-world and just a little out of place: instead of marching in a demonstration they looked like they should be handing out awards for the best new vintage at a local wine festival.

Of course, it doesn't take long to walk up Congress Avenue. The group I was with sang a couple of psalms, and by then we were already on the grounds of the capitol. There was a rally with a number of speakers, and then we all went home.

So what good did it do? Honestly, I'm not sure I can point to anything concrete. There weren't that many people downtown on Saturday afternoon: a few folks were out jogging or walking dogs; some people were working outside the clubs, getting things ready for the Saturday night crowd; it was pretty much just the downtown regulars, and I think most of those people have seen so many demonstrations they don't even bother to read the signs anymore.

The media was there. I saw several television trucks and there were a number of people with microphones standing in front of guys holding cameras, but none of them really stuck around - they got the footage they needed and drove off to the next story. The Statesman did a story on the event, but it was in the metro section, and it was pretty brief; in fact, the reporter summarized close to an hour of speeches and presentations in 38 words.

The only thing I know we did for sure was tie up traffic. The whole march might have lasted 20 minutes, but, during that time, we clogged up quite a few intersections and closed off one side of Congress Avenue. The people in the cars didn't seem to mind; one guy in a pickup truck honked a lot as we walked by, but I couldn't tell if he was trying to show his support or trying to express his irritation.

So why did I give up the better part of my Saturday to participate in this event? I'll tell you why: because my family tends to live a very long time. My great-grandmother died when she was 102; my grandmother still lives by herself at the age of 90. Of course, you can never know for sure, but there's a really good chance that my life isn't even half over yet.

But here's something I do know for sure: at some point in the next 50 years, folks are going to wake up to the fact that unrestricted abortion is an unspeakable evil. So when my grandkids or my great-grandkids are trying to understand how this great nation of ours once allowed millions and millions of unborn children to be killed, when they look at me with that bewildered clarity of youth, when they finally work up the courage to say to me, “But didn't you do anything?” this is what I will tell them:

I marched. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and we had balloons, and we sang psalms, and there were these guys in funny hats and scarlet capes, but we walked up to the capital, and we told everyone that we should stop killing unborn children.