So here is the video I worked on for Nov. and Dec... for sale now on CD Baby!

Garden Flowers Video for sale!

 
THE MARCH 20th PROTESTS FROM ONE PORTLANDER

Tonight is a night I will never forget. I went down to join the crowd at 3rd and Main at 4:45, not knowing what to expect, having heard rumors of some kind of permit but plans for civil disobedience. The turn-out was mind-blowing. I'm not clear on how many branches of marches there ended up being but, after scaling a few innocent light poles, the group I was in stretched as far as I could see. I heard rumors of 45,000 people and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it were more. The spirit of the crowd was unbelievable, powered by the drum line, homemade bucket drums, cowbells, pots and pans, whistles, ringing bells, cheers, chants and handclapping. Periodically a huge wave of cheers would move though the crowd and often, I would look up to see people in apartments, dorms or stores ahove the streets cheering us on, waving their two fingers in peace. Most of them were as astounded as we were.. and their view must have been an amazing one.. especially when the streaker bicyclist worked though the crowd. Shop owners along our claimed route cheered us on as well. We cheered them back.

One of the most powerful moments of the night for me was when our march came around the corner of 3rd and Burnside and met with what I assume was a large part of the Critical Mass bike ride. Tears filled my eyes and I started jumping up and down screaming, “Yes! YES!” when I saw some 20+ (I’m no good at judging numbers.. was probably many more) cyclists raising their bikes over their heads, shaking them like one would shake a fist, at the stopped traffic.. as if to say, “Yes! We are here! We are taking the street with our bikes and our feet! You will not move until we want you to move!” All four lanes of traffic were blocked. Cheers spread through the crowd like a roar. It was the type of sensation that starts in your gut and spreads up through your torso into your throat.. like joyous reflux! I literally felt a rush go through me. After hanging out in that intersection for a while, I continued on with a large group to march back towards Main Street. When we arrived, rumors quickly spread that police were beating and gassing people on the Steel Bridge. A large majority of the crowd decided to go there to support the protestors and overwhelm the police. I was hesitant, not sure what was going on and how bad it was, and hadn’t dressed or prepared for being beaten and gassed but I thought, “How can they possibly arrest this many people?” By the time I got there, people were turning back. From asking around, it was a stand off and the protestors gave up on passing through the line of robocops for the time being. But that was just the beginning. That was the last bridge the cops would block from this march.

I heard several people comment, “They [the police] don’t want us to block the bridge so they line up all their cars and get into their Robocop riot gear and… block the bridge?!?!” to which I answered, “Yeah, that’s REALLY helping the cars get through, eh? Just like Bush logic, ain’t it?”

From there, we made our way and marched across the Burnside Bridge, collectively deciding to “take” the east side. Here’s where the power of numbers really hit home. I kept waiting for cop cars and motorbikes to come zooming around the corner.. for things to get scary, but it appears they just couldn’t get to us.. or keep up with us and the line of traffic congestion we left in our wake.. despite the choppers looming overhead, undoubtedly reporting our position and where it looked like we were headed. It appeared that after a while, the cops just gave up. I have no idea how many marchers were still with us at that time. A few thousand? Enough. Enough that it was too many to arrest and WE had the power. We CHOSE which streets we wanted to take. Several people had hand-held megaphone thingies and shouted out directions and chants. But it was us.. US leading the march, US deciding when and where to go. No plan. Spur of the moment. " Let’s go up this street!"

For a crowd that had no designated leader and chose its route spontaneously based on crowd consensus and whoever had megaphones, it was remarkably civil and successful. I have to say, the people I was marching with were some of the most courteous and respectful I have ever been around. And I know so many people have said how diverse these protests have been but let me say it again… I saw people from EVERY class, niche, race, religion and lifestyle.. from cross-dressers to elderly, from Native Americans to Germans. Of all the things that people might fight about, it’s amazing to me how many people have come together against this war… that I can share the streets with people that I might have nothing else in common with.. nothing.. and yet we all so passionately don’t want this war.

Perhaps our greatest victory of the evening was marching onto the on-ramp of I-84 and onto the highway itself, stopping traffic in BOTH directions for about 10 minutes.. until the Robocops could get their heads together, figure out how to get to us and run down the ramp after the group, looking like misplaced gangs of ninja turtles or those awful beetle like creatures from the Dark Crystal. I didn’t see a scuffle or any arrests from my vantage point and the protestors eventually left the lanes of traffic.. but let me tell you!!!!… POWER OF THE PEOPLE!!! We stopped traffic on a major highway…. And cries for I-5 were echoing through the crows. “Let’s take I-5!!”

The brave taking of I-84 scared quite a few people off, understandably. Nobody wanted to get hit that night and watching a handful of people standing across all lanes of what is normally a buzzing highway, while more marched down from the steep on-ramp was nerve-wracking to say the least. So I think we lost a little of our collective nerve after that. Nevertheless, we continued to march north and take the Broadway bridge back over to the West. Along the way, as we passed by a Shell (oil) station, protestors decided to kindly snatch the obnoxious, yellow Shell signs decorating the grassy lawns of the station. “Burn it! Burn it!” The crowd shouted. But they wouldn’t burn. ‘Put gasoline on it!,” the crowd responded. Not a good idea. So we had to make do with upside down Shell flags, and those worn as capes, to join our upside down and vandalized American flags. I have to admit I got a kick out of that. “Fuck Shell!” resounded. As well as Bush and the INS and a lot of other names we love to bash.

With a snicker, I watched one guy scale a lit up billboard for ClearChannel, coincidentally, and write, FUCK BUSH. I also watched people in black spray-painting “no war” graffiti on concrete building sides. We really did own those streets. It struck hard. “Whose streets?! OUR streets!!” was a popular chant. WE decided where we wanted to march and when and how long we would be there and what cars we would let by. Power of the people.

I watched one cyclist blocking an SUV and get into what looked like a minor scuffle. More protestors came to make peace and let the driver get through. Again, people were looking out for each other, trying as best they could to maintain the peace. Trying not to hurt anyone. Besides some mild property damage that a little sand-blasting would take care of, our almost four hour march was peaceful from what I experienced. We were inconvenient as hell to drivers, we shut down all public transport for a good while (I had watched MAX drivers pack up their stuff and leave and other MAX trains be led by a TriMet street referee of sorts, slowly walking along the tracks as if guiding the train by a leash..to god knows where) but what’s the big deal about waiting? I wonder if the police realized this and decided to just let us take our streets and stand by, hidden in the dark corners of the streets here and there, ready just in case. In case of what? I waved at the cops. They didn't wave back.

I really enjoyed running up and down through the crowd over the course of the 3 and a half hours, checking out pockets of cheers, hearing various drum beats and conversations. One of the funnier ones that made me half laugh was a 4 or 5 year old sitting on his dad’s shoulders, saying,’Dad, I want to see the police use their pepper spray!” He must have been hearing a lot about it and it sounded rather exciting. Sadly, police DID use their pepper spray on people… and from what I heard through the crowd, even on children.

Our disobedient march ended to join up with a crowd of people at 2nd and Burnside, who I hear that, as I write this, are being surrounded by cops in full riot gear and have already begun to be beaten. Why can’t they just let them sit there? They’re certainly not hurting anyone! Jesus, if traffic could figure out how to deal with 4 hours of protestors marching all over the streets and bridges of Portland wherever the hell they wanted, what ‘s a group of peace-sitters in one intersection of downtown going to be? But doesn’t this behavior just seem a little familiar? You can almost hear the cops thinking,
“I want to kick some ASS! Give me some ass to kick!!”

After tonight, after four hours of marching through the streets, my hope is renewed. Even if we can’t stop this war, this time, this week, I know now that it’s possible to stop something so huge like this in the power of numbers. When you’ve got butt-loads of people, even Robocops can lose. And when the cops lose power, it spreads upwards.

To all my friends who came out today to shout, march and have their voices heard, to pound upside down water jugs and wear bloody shirts and carry pictures of Iraqi women and children, I thank you. I wanted to shake every person’s hand that was there tonight. Power of the people. Power to the people.


Tamara

 
So as of March 19th, 2003 this is no longer a Curt and Tamara blog, but just a Tamara blog. Just lil' ol' me. Curt dumped me for his own blog and I'm such a sport that I'm going to link to him here!


Curt's blog

 
In this time of domestic and international crisis, don't forget to write and THANK the politicians, who are speaking out and voting the way you would like to see them do so. Thank yous are just as important as criticism. Let them know we are watching. Even when they do good. Like Gordon Smith. A republican who voted against drilling in Alaska. Way to go, Gordon! (no matter what your reasoning was, at least I have SOMEthing to feel hopeful about!) And Tom Daschle for not backing down on his criticism of Bush and thus, demonstrating that powerful white men really can, sometimes, have spines.

 
So I get this forwarded email from someone that is a letter to George W. from a guy who claims he is going to stop Georgie porgie with Love. The author of the letter goes on about how this war crisis has caused him to wake up, care more, pay attention and for that, he is grateful and loving to George W. We will stop them with love. We will love this situation to its end. We will use love as our weapon.

To me, this letter reeks of denied rage. That's when rage is rejected, shoved down, compressed and judged against so intensely that it is lost to its owner. I'm not saying that feeling loving about something necessarily means that anger is being shoved out.. but in this situation, I'm having a hard time not seeing this letter as being "above" anger- more or less judging against anger as being a less "loving" approach. "I won't be among those who denounce you, Mr. Bush..."

The REASON why so many people are waking up over this war and caring, getting all upset and active about it is that our survival instinct is kicking in. We can FEEL that the situation is bad. Really bad. Survival instincts don't come out politely. They don't come out with "please" and "thank you"s. They come out with intensity. That is the point. It might be scary for those who are used to a feeling of control over oneself and one's emotions but now IS the time to listen to our anger, give it merit, and not pass it off as less than what this guy wrote and is feeling.

So I want to venture to say that rage and anger are NOT outside of love. Love knows when to stick up for itself. Love encompasses rage and anger just as it encompasses grief. Emotions in general are not outside of love. That also means that if you happen to be pissed off and irate over this whole Iraq scandal, it does NOT mean that you are unloving or even negative. You see what you see. And it CERTAINLY does not make you any less noble than a person who choses to be calm, measured and "peaceful. " There is a place for our rage and anger, friends. Of any time, this is the time to consider not judging against those emotions and know that they have much to teach if we can only learn to listen w/o fearing our own feelings.