Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Ruthie In DC/Camp Casey

So how did I end up staying at Camp Casey all night long?

When I first walked into the camp, a woman asked where I was from and how I got to the Camp. I told her that I hitchhiked from Portland, Oregon. She asked if she could film a video of me explaining why I had hitchhiked to Camp Casey.

I told her that I didn't hitchhike to Camp Casey. I hitchhiked to Washington DC because I wanted to participate in the protest march on September 24th.

She videotaped me, anyway.

Then she had me sign a large sheet [an actual piece of cloth] that included a U.S. map that was separated into States.

After that I met a man who played a small flute-type recorder and recited poetry [his own] about the damnable George Bush. I also chatted with a girl who's hair was several colors and two young men who both played guitar. One more guy ended up rounding out our little group. He played a mean harmonica.

As the evening grew late and people drifted away, we [our little group] were asked to stay and watch over the Camp. So we did.

The five of us sat in chairs or on the grass and exchanged viewpoints and sang protest songs in front of the Camp Casey tent...Until dawn the next day.

We didn't sleep a wink. We talked about the crosses and felt the spiritual link with them around 3 o'clock in the morning.

By that time, traffic stopped circling around the park and the Camp became our own.

It was at that time, in the perfect stillness before dawn, that I wish we could have let our hair down with Cindy Sheehan. Instead the five of us bonded with each other.

Cindy Sheehan, once again, was nowhere to be seen.

Did you have any idea that we were there, Cindy?

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