And Somehow, I Feel Guilty

Today, May 1st, has been promoted as a National Day of Action by all the major and most of the minor people/groups I follow.  Tucson's three hour march begins at 5:30.

I'm not going.

I make three phone calls every weekday.  My Republican Congressman hears why I think he is misrepresenting his allegiance to FFOTUS here in our purple district.  I rarely disagree with one of my Senators; I call to tell him this that or the other thing he did was swell.  My other Senator is making me a little bit nervous;  I let him know that when I call.

I write letters to the editor of the local newspaper; sometimes they publish them.  

If one side torches the rules, the other side is not obligated to laminate them.

Brother printed my response to MAGA's outrage at Joe Biden's end of term pardons, scorched the edges, laminated the page, and sent it to me.  It has pride of place in my work space.

I share information about events/executive orders/security breaches/Congressional inaction at the drop of a hat.  I forward emails and texts with action plans from more than a few organizations to more than a few people.

I'm not afraid to show my political leanings.

My sign and I stand on the sidewalk in front of my Congressman's office with hundreds of others, demanding that he show up and be held accountable.  We stand on sidewalks at the Tesla dealership and near the Social Security office and around the edges of the big park for Hands Off!  With thousands of others who are furious at something or everything but manage to smile nonetheless, 

I've expressed my opinion often enough to joke about my part time gig as a protester.  It needs to be done and I do what I can when I can, even if it's only for 15 minutes.  I really do believe that 90% of life is showing up.

But........

The starting point is at the other end of town. I know no one else who is going.  It will be dark.  It's a long walk through unfamiliar neighborhoods with parking on the streets in that same unfamiliar neighborhood.  

Those are all valid reasons, even without the whole old lady alone business.  I have no one to whom I must justify my decision except myself.  And somehow, I feel guilty.

May Day has a long and storied history.  I'm imagining my Zaydeh, a proud union man, taking G'ma on his shoulders to march in support of the worker.  People all over the world will join in solidarity with the worker, will protest FFOTUS, will decry social injustices, and make a fairly unified noise.

They will do it without me.

We each do what we can do. I will be there in spirit.