I did not participate in any of the Hands Off demonstrations two weekends ago. I was glad that the events were happening. I was especially pleased that hundreds of people in my own community of La Crosse lined one of the busiest streets in town with signs of protest. I could have easily participated. Instead I watched clips from local news outlets and saw a number of friends and acquaintances doing what I had not. I watched them on tv and sensed that I would not have exhibited the same enthusiasm and need to be heard as they did.
I am old enough to have participated in demonstrations during the last years of the Vietnam War. Even then I felt more an observer than part of a movement. I did not cheer when someone with a bullhorn shouted out self-righteous indignations. I did not join in when a guy with a guitar led us in song. My strongest recollection of the antiwar demonstrations on the University of Wisconsin campus was a conversation I had with a cop while both of us were standing at the back of the crowd. We weren’t even talking about the protests, but about the Senate Watergate hearings that were being held at the time.
I have not attended any big protests since college. I have gone to several smaller ones, demonstrations where I thought the crowd would be so small that the appearance of another human body would make a difference. I once participated in a protest of George W. Bush’s forest management policies, and there were only six of us in attendance. A news crew showed up to talk to us, but I don’t think their segment ever aired.
While I’d never planned to join any Hands Off demonstration, I quietly hoped that Clare would. My daughter lives in Madison, which was the site of the state’s largest gathering. I might not have much faith in the peaceful expression of public outrage toward the government, but my daughter is too young to possess similar cynicism.
As it turned out, Clare did not participate in any demonstration. She had planned to, but our dog Jack had surgery four days before the Hands Off event. His recovery was going poorly, so our daughter skipped the demonstration in Madison to help Manyu and me care for our dog. I put that down as a valid excuse.
While Clare was home, however, I made sure that she and I watched A Complete Unknown, the recent movie about Bob Dylan’s early years in New York. It reminded me that on the list of people I most admire, Pete Seeger is near the top. Unlike me, he never gave up on the power of peaceful resistance.
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