Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Ruthie In DC/Camp Casey

After spending the night at Camp Casey, several remote trucks rolled in by the curb. Floodlights popped on, huge antennas went up, cables were stretched, monitors were strategically placed and skinny female reporters walked over to talk to us.

We refused to comment. We just sat in our circle and looked at each other.

I wanted to talk a blue streak but one of the other guys said "We don't represent Camp Casey or Cindy Sheehan so we really shouldn't say anything."

Translation: If we spoke our minds then Cindy Sheehan would probably not like it.

A man with a big camera over his shoulder walked around us and shone a bright light in our faces.

If I had it to do over again, I would have said every damn thing I wanted to say up to that point.

And I wouldn't worry about Cindy. She can speak for herself.

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