Search This Blog

Friday, October 07, 2011

Stampers of Protest

My three nephews stopped by on their way to an Occupy Wall Street protest in Detroit. I could not go with them because of previous commitments, but I brewed up some tea (courtesy Grace Tea Company of New York) and they came in for a spell.
"Sorry I can't make it."
They laughed.
"Maybe you should come... reschedule your other appointments. You know, it may be your last chance. By next week the economy might improve, employment rise, wages invigorate, and..." said Aloysius. (We pronounce it " ah - LOY - shus"... just as they do back in the old country in Silver Mines.)
"... the wars might end, and some heroic johnny might actually pull the stake from the heart of Congress..." added Austin.
"... and we might have a real country again instead of this lumbering Day Of The Dead zombie we've had for a while," ended Ayden.
We laughed. The zombie's name was Bub. They were in the habit these days of calling people Bub:  Bub Boehner, Bub McConnell, Bubba Palin (the female form of "Bub"), President Bub Obama; there were a lot of Bubs running around, and maybe that was always the point of the zombie flicks.

Zoloft and Cymbalta barked. Four minutes were up and the tea was done brewing. One teaspoon loose tea per cup is the trick, and today I did one more for the pot, as they say at The Tea House on Neal Street in the City of London. A bit tricky, nonetheless: once one gets beyond the conversions of grams to ounces or drams or teaspoons, one is still faced with whether one is using the 6 ounce cup size or the 8 ounce size.
Most of the restaurants nearby resolve this problem by using a flagon or jeroboam of hot water per one measly tea bag, so I am quick to let the waitstaff know that I am no "greenhorn" when it comes to leaves and sticks from Assam and points beyond Mandalay. Please leave the tea bag in its envelope and bring me something to pour excess water into. When I have reached the point of "Old Lady Drinking Tea"; i.e., re-using one bag over and over three times, I will let you know.

I mentioned that all the Republican candidates had dissed the protests; the three A's laughed, noting that if the protest movement began to focus and that if that focus seemed to support the Republicans, they would invite them in, regardless of any other noisome characteristics, like racism or fascism: the Republican Party is a big tent and has lots of folks.
"Anne Coulter is addressing the young Republicans Gays, you know."
I nodded.Republicans reaching out... then I thought of Senator Larry Craig from Idaho drove the thought from my mind.

I enquired as to their electronic war chest: were they ready and able to Tweet incessantly as they stormed the Winter Palace, or as they were driven down the Odessa steps... stay away from perambulators! They had gizmos galore! Ayden showed me his pepper spray, just in case, and his reinforced case carrying his laptop.
"I doubt that there'll be any trouble in Detroit," I said. "We were just down on MLK in the Woodbridge area last week and went downtown, and it is pretty sedate."
We have gone afterwards down Trumbull to find our favorite Irish restaurant, but it was now closed in the strictest sense of the word. We have found that happens a lot in Detroit, so if you finds a bar, bistro, or restaurant that seems really to be one of the ones, you had better indulge yourselves to oversatiety, because next time you wander down, it may be gone... just like the old ball park at Michigan and Trumbull.

"Tigers won," I said. They nodded in some sort of running meditation on the joys of besting the Bronx Bombers at home. I had watched some of the game and was treated to the audio enjoyment of the trivial part of sports: media types talking about it. I happened to hear the old and still wonderful story of how the Tigers were a young team, the Yankees had been here before (in the playoffs and post-season), and blah, and blah, and more blah.

The three A's took off to their appointment at the waiting room to the access way of the first foyer of the atrium of Destiny. I felt a little like Walter Reuther's father watching his sons walk off to Ford's. Aloysius said they called themselves - the three of them - the Stampers...
At this point they imaginatively stamped something on the floor and squished it and ground their Doc Martin's around...
It was a reference to the Stamp Act of Mad King George.
--

No comments: