“March For Our Lives” Monsoon

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A “March” Monsoon of Raindrops

 It is said that when a raindrop lands on the peak of the Continental Divide, two fates are possible: it will either roll downhill eastward and flow into watersheds that eventually drain into the Atlantic Ocean, or gravity will pull the raindrop downward to the west and it will ultimately reach the Pacific Ocean.

In truth, one lone raindrop alighting on the backbone of the Rocky Mountains will not travel thousands of miles. However, when that single raindrop combines with another and others and countless more, together they fill streams and flow into rivers and wash into the ocean.

Floodwaters washed across America from sea to shining sea this past Saturday. In fact, the surge was global with “March For Our Lives” rallies held in an estimated 800 cities and towns in the U.S. as well as in the U.K., France, Japan, India, Australia, New Zealand, Israel, even Antarctica.1KenMarch

The March For Our Lives movement seeking gun reform legislation was initiated by teenagers at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Fla., where 17 students and faculty were shot to death on Valentine’s Day.

Ventura High students Samantha Pedersen, Micah Wilcox, Sam Coats and India Hill organized a local March For Our Lives event for county residents at Ventura’s Plaza Park. I had planned to attend the morning gathering, but at the last minute something came up making it problematic to do so. With hundreds expected to march, one less person – one less raindrop – would surely not matter.

A text message from my son, who hours earlier marched in New York City’s Central Park, encouraged me to postpone my conflicting obligation and go to the rally. It proved wise advice. Being a raindrop in the monsoon was a goose-bumps experience.

Plaza Park was an ocean of humanity fully filled with high school students, who are the backbone of the March For Our Lives movement, alongside young children and adults of all ages.

Based on my experience with sports crowds that are accurately counted by tickets, the published estimate of 1,000 marchers was understated by half at least. Consider this: while an army of participants remained gridlocked like the 405 at rush hour while waiting to exit Plaza Park’s southwest corner to begin marching, the leaders of the parade had already finished and returned full circle. In other words, the stream of marchers was one mile long and two and three abreast.

Along the route, drivers honked car horns in support of the marchers and their handmade signs, including these:

“Arms Are For Hugs, Not Killing” and “Arm Us With Books Not Bullets, Love Not Lead.”

“Marching For My Grandchildren” and “We Call BS.”1march

“I Want To Read Books, Not A Eulogy” and “Bullets Are Not School Supplies.”

A girl of perhaps age five, wearing a pink knitted pussy hat, had a poster reading simply, but powerfully, “Keep Me Safe” and an older youth’s sign featured a caped crusader and this warning: “Voting Is Our Superpower.”

To naysayers who call the marches a one-day gimmick, I offer this: the effort and time expended to drive or take a bus or plane to a city holding a rally, park and walk fair distances to the actual event site, and then march and listen to speeches far exceeds what is required for a short trip to the voting booth in November.

As I was leaving the Ventura event, a vanity license plate on the car parked next to mine summed up what the March For Our Lives raindrops must do as they continue to merge and flow: “PRRSIST.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

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