You know, it boggles my mind that I have been "blogging" intermediately consistently for almost 20 years. Oh to be 27 years old again writing “Signs.” It all began as a journey of discovery, this my accepting myself as being a writer, a poet, an artist, a human - being. How much we learn, how much we evolve, every time we come full circle in life

 

I feel both fortunate and blessed. You are welcome to take a look…

Love,

Chad

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48 members of the Senate and 147 members of the House of Representatives were born on or before 1955. Trump is 73 and Biden is 77. While I love and respect our elders holding political office, I implore you to please retire and pass the mantle. Give your children the support and resources we need to make the world better for your grandchildren (and your great-grandchildren and beyond). Perhaps you don’t trust us. I get it. But know, we will take care of you, if you will provide us the opportunity.

That Leonardo and I took a bus to Washington, D.C. to protest the war about to be waged in Afghanistan. I was so hopeful to see humanity of such diversity there to declare peace. And, honestly and unfortunately, there were some rotten apples in the barrel (white ones) who managed to lead us down an unauthorized street.


Leonardo and I were following the march and screaming for peace when we saw the police in riot gear approach us. They marched in on us from all sides, perhaps five minutes between their encroachments. We had no idea as what was going on, but we knew they were attempting to trap us into a square.

Panicking, I sat in the middle of the street and stared at the pavement. I listened to their boots step forward as they continued to enclose us. I was 28 years old, wanting to make a difference. I wanted peace. I wanted no more violence.

I did not know that protests could be coopted by a fringe group with an entirely different agenda. When the line of police arrived at me sitting in the street, an officer said, “Run away,” and we did. I am certain being a young, white man allowed me such a pass.

So let’s be cautious of generalizations. A mass is a movement, yet it is made of very unique ripples.

Love.

Eureka Springs, Arkansas     |     me@chadagurley.org

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 © Chad A. Gurley, 2020