"I know just the thing," said I.
And so, this morning, we shared a packed Rapid Transit car with a few dozen other marchers in the Cleveland contingent of the Women's March.
We reached Public Square in time to gather with thousands of other marchers and began the procession up Ontario Street, past City Hall, across Lakeside Avenue, down East 9th Street and back along Superior Avenue to the Square.
The crowd was friendly, focused and peaceful. But make no mistake, under the veneer of civility, these folks were frustrated as hell. Something we all shared.
And that, for me was the beauty of it.
Having witnessed the reprehensible behavior of this country's new president, I was dismayed and discouraged. Attending today's march made me feel that I'm not alone. That these thousands of other souls who showed up to put their feet to pavement shared my grief and determination to rise above the current quagmire.
As for my husband, how did he feel about all of this?
He said he was so moved, that for the first half hour he could barely speak. He stopped several women and asked if we could photograph their signs. He shook the hands of the police officers who lined the route, thanking them for being there. And he stood by my side and held my hand, as we walked the streets of Cleveland in support of women, minorities, the disabled, those who are new to our country, and in support of the land itself and the climate we all share.
It was exhilarating. I am still feeling the joy, the camaraderie, the peace, the love. Call me a feminist. Call me a hopeless liberal. Call me whatever you like.
Today I walked with giants. And felt 10 feet tall.
P.S. The weather was a balmy 60 degrees and sunny in the last half of January in northeastern Ohio. I take that as a nod from the highest powers that our cause was just and right.
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