Getting Our Peace Kicks On Route 66 - Democratic Underground

Zomby Woof

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Sun Oct-26-03 09:20 PM
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Getting Our Peace Kicks On Route 66

The iconic “Mother Road” of Route 66 exists now in fragments, broken lines of faded asphalt here and there, occasionally overlapping with modernity and fresh pavement where tourist dollars can be squeezed for maximum effect. Consigned to official historic status, Route 66 is no longer the swooping arc through America’s Heartland as it was in its heyday. From Chicago to Los Angeles, it carried untold thousands of travelers, wanderers, drifters, and the restless seekers of the American Dream along its storied path. In the 1930’s, Dust Bowl refugees headed towards the Promised Land of California with “66” signposts as their guide. The myth and memories of Route 66 are the stuff with which our nation’s love affair with cars and the open road are made.

In Flagstaff, Arizona, Route 66 cuts through the tidy downtown district, providing a gateway to another of the nation’s great icons, the Grand Canyon. Route 66 is just a temporal casualty of so-called “progress” in the shadow of that eternal gorge.

Progress of another kind was on hand Saturday the 25th of October, when but a smattering of regional activists gathered on the lawn of City Hall that evening, to honor the fallen in Iraq - all of the fallen - and to unite hearts and minds alike in calling for an end to King George’s War madness.

As someone previously accustomed to joining in with the throngs of thousands hitting the streets of Seattle, the kinship experienced and importance of the message we sought to impart was no less diminished by the smaller numbers in my new southwestern hometown. For Flagstaff, you couldn’t wish for higher visibility than standing by Route 66 during the evening rush, braving the chilly Autumn evening to get out the much-needed message of peace, and hope out to the hurried masses.

So how did we do? Were two dozen or so dedicated souls enough to merit a report from this participant?

We did great, and yes, it does.

Arizona is still widely known as a Republican-leaning state. The ancestral home of Barry Goldwater still has the hardest of hardcore rock-ribbed conservatives and libertarian-minded people, who usually support without hesitation whatever military misadventure the government they normally deplore gets us into. This is a common vein of thought in the western United States, and yet...

Arizona is showing signs that indeed, the presidential election of 1996, which went Clinton’s way - and 2000, which was in statistical reach of Gore, with enough votes for Nader to make one pause and accept that yes, Arizona is a ... swing state.

If Arizona is truly a swing state, you couldn’t ask for a better city to test, in microcosm, the shifting barometer of thought and opinion on George W. and his abysmal failure of leadership than Flagstaff. Opinion polls statewide are quite disapproving, save for a few suburbs of Phoenix and the sparse towns dotting the desert horizons. The majority is unhappy with the present direction here.

Flagstaff is one of the two major cities which leans Democratic in the state, however small may be the margin. Dissent is tolerated here, and it isn’t just because of the college segment of town. The openness of debate cuts across demographic lines. With an irony noted by fellow DUer Astarho, who stood alongside Desertrose and myself with signs held high, quite a large number of SUV drivers and people with American flag decals honked their horns in approval of our message. We all need reminders of the limitations of stereotypes. We need everyone, of all these diverse backgrounds, to unite in preserving our mutual interests against the toxic agenda of Bush, his wars, and his corporatist cronyism.

From our vantage point, it seemed that the favorable reviews - horns honking with thumbs-up salutes, peace signs flashed or friendly waves offered, may have only been second to signs of indifference or the averted gazes of the hurried and apathetic. Hecklers were few and far between, but never failed to provide a mix of humor and puzzlement to us. A favorite was the young man who seemed, with great visceral anger and language to match, to take a healthy interest in our obtaining “a life”. We appreciated his concern for our personal fulfillment, and I wish I had a chance to thank him, and tell him, yes, a life working for peace is quite worthwhile, and what do you do for fun? Another screamed that he hates peace. Hates peace. Anger distorts reason beyond, well, reason.

There were a few birds flown, and mocking derision, as expected from the morally impotent, but by and large, I think we had our two hour segment of Flagstaff commuters, tourists, and passers-through on the side of peace, and for the well-being of the soldiers so far from home.

Sometimes the anger could be unsettling, if only because the distended faces, with mouths agape in rage, and voices strained to be heard above the traffic, were not unlike those in a Reifenstahl film. One wonders how they would express their disgust in private, and why, why? Why are they so angry with dissent, which all true patriots should cherish?

No matter, for we drew strength from the support offered, and hope that even if for a few minutes, that everyone, friend or adversary, kept the soldiers in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the people of those battered lands in their thoughts and well-wishes. For a fleeting time on this quintessential of American roads, freedom of speech and assembly, quintessential American freedoms, rang loud and clear into the starry Arizona sky.

May all of the soldiers abroad come home to see the stars of their hometown skies. May the people of Iraq and Afghanistan find peace. May those whose hearts are filled with fear and hate, find peace too. May we all find the Mother Road to peace.