On
the day after Labor Day, the Tea Party Express rolled into town, more than an hour
after their scheduled, synchronized and programmed arrival time, to hold a
totally spontaneous, grass-roots rally on the front lawn of my church. Although
several of my friends called and asked me to make an

appearance, I'd already made
a considered decision not to attend for two reasons: #1, I was afraid that
whoever does the people-counting for unrehearsed, impromptu media-ready events
like this would somehow include me in the numbers of Tea Party supporters,
unless I carried a sign saying "I believe health care is a human right"
(a decidedly dangerous move). Other items I might display--a button saying "Who
are these morons?" or my bible, which I keep handy in the choir room at said
church--could inadvertently cause the counters to think I was associated with
the Tea Partiers. Reason #2 was even more compelling: it was raining like
crazy.

I
should mention that my church just happens to be in the center of town,
situated on a lovely historic millpond, not surprising since it was built in
1881 when water was key to transport, power and civilization. People built
communities around millponds, joining together to help and support each other,
in good times and bad, sickness and health. A former governor and numerous
state and local dignitaries lie quietly in the adjoining cemetery behind a
wrought iron fence (which fell down, when the totally spontaneous protestors
climbed on it, something we don't let the Sunday School kids do because it
would be disrespectful). The Spontaneous Tea Party Express was simply looking
for a scenic and central location--and nothing could be more white-picket-fence
and photo-op perfect than my little church.

Since
the bus full of paid organizers was late, the volunteer locals who turned up had
to wait for marching orders before beginning their completely spontaneous
demonstration. They stood around keeping their birther billboards and guns
(unloaded, one hopes) dry. Bored, they proceeded to decorate the front lawn of
the church with Obama-as-monkey and Obama-as-Joker signs. As their
constitutional scholarship was apparently limited, the church secretary had to
remind them of the legal prohibition from putting overtly political signs within
ten feet of church property. You know, separation of church and state, one of
those annoying and evidently now outmoded concepts.

Later,
the Youth Group came to church for their regularly scheduled American Friends Service
Committee peace training after school, and were witness to a lot of wet, free-floating
hatred. What bothered them most was adults putting vile signage in their tomato
garden, the in-town patch that represents the larger, hands-on church project to
feed the local hungry and homeless, which has yielded about a ton of fresh
produce in 2009.  The bus finally came,
and disgorged Teabaggish Headliner Joe the Unlicensed Plumber; Joe gets $10,000
per speech, these days, which means he
doesn't have to worry about health insurance any more. Or plumbing, for that
matter.

The
youth group kids are still trying to process it all, including Joe the P's
remarks about Hanoi Jane, which were inscrutable to them. I'm trying to process
it, too, in terms of Thoreau, civil disobedience, and just whose country has
been taken away, and from whom. I am always for civil liberties--freedom to
write, speak, worship, love and grow vegetables. I did plenty of marching and
sign-carrying in the 1960s myself, and I'm not sure how much good it did. Trying
to equate the bombing of Cambodia with a political initiative to provide health
care for all Americans feels a little schizophrenic, however.

Perhaps
Buffalo Springfield's semi-immortal words are right. Nobody's right if
everybody's wrong.

There's
something happening here--What it is ain't exactly clear.

There's a man
with a gun over there, telling me I got to beware.

There's battle
lines being drawn. Nobody's right if everybody's wrong.

What a
field-day for the heat--a thousand people in the street,

Singing songs
and carrying signs. Mostly say, hooray for our side.