He has held several hundred peace vigils, including those he holds on special U.S. holidays as well, such as U.S. Independence Day (July 4th), Veteran's Day and on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, each meant to appeal to peoples' consciences to stop the U.S.'s wars. For John knows first hand how ugly and destructive war really is.
In today's piece, he refers to a "V" and by that he means a two fingered peace sign. Late in the piece, he refers to "KH," which is a street called Knob Hill. While I was with John, two 15 ish age girls rode their bikes next to John's peace vigil, and stopped at a red light waiting to cross PCH.
On the back of one of the bikes, the young lady had a peace symbol painted on next to her name. When we asked these two cute young girls whether they knew anything about the U.S. wars, as many young Americans would reply, both said no. John smiled, briefly explained the peace symbol and gave both girls poker chip size pieces with peace symbols that he had created. John made his point with warmth, everyone smiled and the girls left with a nice reminder of the discussion in the form of those poker chip peace symbols.
Well, Dick, this evening was very rewarding, as good as any I can remember. It had been really good while you were there, and at 4:35, less than five minutes after you had to leave, a nice curious little thing took place that started an interesting and busy series of events.
A big raggedy old scavenger truck - 'scrap metal pick-up free' - stopped right in front of me on Knob Hill to make a right on PCH. The passenger studied my sign and me a while, got a slight smile, said something to the driver, and then gave me a nice big smile. So I gave him energetic Vs with both hands and said loudly, "PAZ, PAZ', for which I got the V sign, more radiant smile, and, "PAZ PEACE, PAZ PEACE" as they turned the corner, south on PCH. Maybe it wasn't an impressive exchange by some standards but, to me, it was profound.
About fifteen minutes
later a shiny little red car whipped around that same corner, and I got a nice
wave and smile from the driver while the elegant lady passenger kept her eyes
on the road. Thanks for the wave, Dick.
What happened next had
nothing to do with me or PEACE, but it will infuriate our mutual friend, Grant,
the bicycle helmet champion (fanatic). Two young girls,12 or 13ish, approached
PCH on KH, and one wondered aloud 'if he was alright ?' I looked kitty-cornered
and saw a guy flat out, face down and motionless on the sidewalk handicapped
ramp, his head facing PCH and his bicycle half on top of him.
Some people had
noticed and reacted before I even noticed, had their phones out and were making
calls. A couple of people were heading toward him from the Subway sandwich shop
parking lot, so I stayed 'at my post' and watched a really funny show.
The guy
got up awkwardly, clumsily; he was tall, thinny, and had long rasta
locks down to his waist. Once he gets under control and steadied up, he starts
picking things up from the sidewalk and putting them in a little box or basket
on the handlebars. This is where it starts reminding me of the clowns in
the little clown car in the circus.
His plan seems to have
been to anchor one end of the long things at the handlebars and lay them back
off the rear of the bike. I think they may have been fishing rods - long, about
the same 5 foot lengths, and enough to make six or seven 10 foot poles. (Or one
damned long one.) I saw him drop all or some and recover them and drop some or
all again - four or five times, before a lady pedestrian stopped and engaged me
in conversation.
My focus switched to the lady, and what happened with rasta
man and his hoard of sticks, I'll never know. I wonder about that, and I also
wonder about the several cell phone calls that were made. No emergency rescue,
meter maid, paramedic. lifeguards or police ever showed up.
The next comment I'm
making here is a trifle tricky. It could get a guy in trouble, and I would
sure be sorry if it did. But the driver(s) of the China Coast restaurant
delivery vehicle honks, waves and smiles each times he goes by me on the
corner. I wish he would see this and know that he is noticed and appreciated. I
also hope his boss, if he were to see it, is a kindred spirit.
Shortly after rasta
man disappeared with his fishing pole or pool cue collection, a youngster about
16 or 17 came by and gave me a 'polite' smile, then turned his back to me and
waited to cross KH. I asked his back what he thought of the war issue, and I got
way more than I ever expected. He didn't think wars were a good way to settle
disputes; he thought people should think more about similarities between
themselves and their enemies than their differences; and that the vanquished
always resent and hate the victor.
WOW. I haven't had many adults express so
much, so well, so succinctly. Either the kid had been practicing that for a
part in a play or he was the slickest spontaneous speaker I've run into in a
long long time.
(to be continued) - if
that's acceptable. My sister being here
and grandchildren in plays, etc. are gulping down the time.
It was such a bitching
day, I really don't recall one better.
Stay cool ~
John
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