It's a war on war

Yesterday, for two hours, I stood in the median of an extremely busy intersection during rush hour to protest the war in Iraq.

I was nervous. My knees were shaking.

But my friend Sharon and I were soon joined by about 10-12 others, all well-seasoned in protests. I was the only newbie. The banners/posters were all variations on the theme of ending the war. My friend and I held a long banner reading (if I remember correctly) "We stand in silence for lives lost in violence."

For the most part, people were really supportive. We got lots of good-natured honking, thumbs up, smiles, waves, and a few people shouted positive things. One carload of teenage boys started chanting "BARACK! BARACK! BARACK!" It kinda sounded like they were barking, but whatever.

Yes, there were a few dissenters. They showed their disapproval in the form of thumbs down, shaking heads, scoffs and revving of engines (I assume this meant they thought there was an unlimited amount of oil). One really pathetic creep stuck his head out the window and started screaming really vile racial epithets. I won't repeat them. I told Sharon it was a shame we couldn't cure ignorance.

One guy rolled down his window and yelled "Get a job!" at me. I was tempted to yell back, "I would if the economy weren't so bad!" But instead I saved all my snarky comebacks for Sharon, who laughed appreciatively.

Within five minutes of our arrival, a man in full military uniform drove by. He didn't acknowledge us in any way, positive or negative, but my first reaction was embarrassment. I fervently hoped he didn't think we were judging the actions of soldiers. I put that thought out of my head, though, because I think the best way we can support our soldiers is to bring them home. Or at least make sure they have the proper equipment and gear to survive and a clear objective in order to win a war. I think as it is, all those brave men and women who signed up to serve their country after 9/11 are having their sacrifice taken for granted by the government.

I guess there will be another protest next month, this time on a larger scale in a mall parking lot. A group of veterans against the war are supposed to be there as well. I'll update later with more information.

I had a comment on Facebook from someone who knew me, saying she was surprised to see me, a "mild mannered librarian," at a war protest. I am shy in crowds, and I hate confrontation--especially when it comes to election season and an issue with such polarity. I was nervous as hell, I don't mind telling you. But I'm hoping that gives you confidence to get involved somehow.

Mothers, don't let your babies grow up to be jerkfaces.

I believe I've mentioned that I hate teenagers? The sullen little you-know-whats. They're so annoying. Like the girl who has the cell phone stuck to her ear the entire time she's in the library. "Are you mad at me? Why-a? Whyyy-a? Just tell me!" The boys who smell like they came straight from gym class and stink up the joint with their sweaty pitts. And who harrass the one quiet girl in the group. "Hey. Hey, you. What's the matter? Do you hate me? What's the matter with you? What's wrong? Why won't you talk to me? Hey. Do you hate me?"

Quit hanging out at the library! Go home and annoy your parents.

Today my boss told me that a fourth-grade class was going to visit the library, and all I had to do was set up a chair for the teacher to read a couple of books. And I thought "Fourth-graders? Haven't they been to a library before? Books at that reading level are kind of long to be read in one sitting. Not that we have seating areas. Just this dark corner next to the bathroom." Yeah. It wasn't fourth-graders. It was 3- and 4-year-olds. "Hi, Miss Liberryian!" they chanted in unison, all arranged in rows on our dingy carpeting. The teacher said, "Now everyone listen quietly as the librarian tells us all about the library!" Um. What? So I made a lengthy speech about stuff. I don't really remember what. Finally someone else took over. "See, kids, here's where all the little kid books are kept! And there's games! And movies!" Ohhh. So I wasn't supposed to explain the details of the summer reading program and how I catalog? I thought they were gonna be fourth-graders, people! And even then, I didn't think I had to be a part of it!

But they were all so very sweet. "Hey, Miss April? Wanna know what? I have one of those." He points at our courier bin that's filled with books to be picked up tomorrow. And another boy, "Miss April? I don't know if I've been here before." One girl refused to sit on her fanny; instead, she sat on her knees. The teacher did not like this at all and finally pulled the girl aside. I felt bad. Maybe she just doesn't like that seating position, Teach! "Goodbye, Miss April!" they again chanted in unison as they left the building, each waving and then adding an extra "goodbye" as they filed past me. And not one of them had a cell phone or an emo haircut--the precious darlings.