|
Bridget Gibson
Last Saturday, I thought that I was going to go and be an impartial observer at a political rally. What happened along the way was for me, transformational. Standing apart from the areas for the handicapped and from the background that is seen by the people in front of the stage and speaker’s podium I did one of my favorite things – I “people watched.”
I watched as parents and children went through screening processes and showed identification and let dogs sniff around and I looked at the spaces set aside for the crowds and attempted to estimate how many people it would take to fill each fenced off area.
I watched as the back-stage crews set up microphones and speakers and handed out placards and props for the assembling masses.
I watched as the line of porta-toys ran out of toilet paper and saw cases of water being given away to anyone needing a drink after waiting in hours’ long lines and walking miles to get the opportunity to be in a space I can only call a “moshpit.”
As people continued to flow into these spaces at a respectable pace, I realized that someone had really done a lot of work – I had been breezily placed in the appropriate line reserved for “Press” – efficiently screened and forgotten. As the clock ticked nearer the moment for the rally to begin, the spaces became standing room only and the crowd’s sense of eager anticipation grew thicker. One woman in the middle of the crowd began to suffer from the close quarters and help was immediate – she, along with her young son, was allowed to move into a much less confined space and she was able to stay and recovered completely.
Looking across the expanse and watching the trickles of people become rivers of people flowing across the park – all becoming a vast sea of excitement. Cameras held high attempted to capture the view as tens of thousands more joined the crowd. High above the crowds, blimps and helicopters hovered and flittered back and forth as snipers set up their bases for watching – and how could they watch so many?
The national anthem was sung, prayers for everyone spoken and loud “Amen brothers!” could be heard. More speakers gave their best rousing to the crowds and all eyes scanned the horizons for any incoming “official” looking vehicle. At last, a bus pulls up behind the tent and everyone falls silent – what are they thinking? A collective breath seemed to be drawn and excitement registered on every face (And wow! Was that ever the most diverse looking crowd?!)
A wave from the sea of people pushing ever so much closer – each person seemed to be trying to get just as close to the man walking toward them as possible.
And then, up on the stairway and onto the stage – and the crowd went wild – the noise was one of pure joy and love – the placards waving and then I saw the widest smiles of my life on the faces around me – they were so intent on just being in the presence of this one man. I truly was amazing.
He approached the microphone and silence immediately fell – no noise heard because no one wanted to miss even one word. He was so inclusive of everyone – turning to those behind him and including them, knowing that they would be able to only see his back and not wanting to close them out or use them only as a background for the cameras.
The expressions on his face were ever changing and he talked for almost forty-five minutes, covering all the issues that are burring for the citizens of this country. The financial crisis, healthcare, insurance, jobs – jobs – jobs, taxes, roads, bridges – the war, security, the budget, the people – mostly it was about the people. He said that we are here at this most important moment in time and that we, the people, are the ones that this entire election is about. Not him. Us.
And as I looked across that sea of faces, I realized that I, too, was a part. Not apart. But – a part of all of that yearning and hoping for a better future for our country.
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
