November 28, 2011
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Zuccotti.
It’s funny looking at Thanksgivings past and sensing the tense mood around the appetizers and dinner table. Whether it was after September 11th or when we began to occupy Afghanistan and Iraq or when Al Gore won, but actually lost the Presidential election or when George W. Bush was farting democracy away or when Barack Obama made history. Or even that time when I was 13 and our aunts asked us to say something we were thankful for and I said my Uncle Harvey’s paycheck (He is a bigwig for JP Morgan and the host of our Thanksgivings).
I know everyone’s family has these issues where politics are literally a hot button issue and you don’t want to ruin the good time (that’s what alcohol and homophobia is for right?) But now, at 25 years-old, a teacher and comedian who lives paycheck to paycheck and like many Americans are very angry about where our money and others money is going , was worried about this holiday.
Every Thanksgiving for the last 10-12 years we have gone to my loving aunt and uncles giant house to hold anywhere from 30-50 people. I love them both and they are some of the most giving and caring people, who would do anything for you. Needless to say they are probably apart of what the angry are calling the: “1%.”
But the feelings of most have changed, my once very conservative relatives who thought how ridiculous our ideas were are now in support of this “Occupy” movement. They, like most, including myself feel that something else has to be done or focus needs to appear. But the fact of the matter is that people are angry and like most protests they start broad and end focused. I know this one will keep on.
My cousin, Matthew, who is studying to be a Lutheran Pastor is a Vicar at a Lutheran Church in Chinatown not far from Zuccotti Park where the Occupy Wall St. movement began a little over three months ago. We went to go visit around 11:30 PM Saturday night where we met some very interesting people and heard some very fantastic stories.
We had two long conversations with two men who have been in the park since day one: Al and Frank.
Frank is a man who lost his job at Citibank three years ago now. He is 41. He is living off disability which is $220/month. He is now being sued by Citibank over money owed from sicktime. Frank, with his balding black hair slicked back as though he was still making cold calls in his old cubicle, looks beat-down and and depressed. He looks at me with his Frank Sinatra eyes, “I knew you’d care, I knew you were good people, you’re here which means you’re in it with us.” His handshake was so defeated.
Al “has been here since day one.” He is a peacekeeper, he is well into his 60s and he is definitely not a hippie-dippie type like the media are making everyone out to be. He told me he was a mouthpiece for the police and for the occupiers. He told me he’s too street savvy and too pissed off to not be apart of this movement. Al said that back just a week before. That is, a week before the NYPD unoccupied Zuccotti and destroyed the progress that was building in that park. There was a projection screen for mic-checks, there was a kitchen like area in the middle for those who needed to stay sustained. And there was a library. I looked to the “library” that’s there now. It was about 45 books. An elder man with a sign that read, “I’m from LA, I’m a union worker, I’m a tax-payer, and I’m pissed.” He was reading, and he confirmed that the library had about 2,000 books. They were destroyed when they came through.
“Came through?” I asked.
“I tell you it was like a military mission, they came out of nowhere. They snuck up in lines of ten and started ripping things apart. I went up to the cops on the outskirts and they asked me, ‘do you have people you care about in there?’ And I said ‘I care about all of them.’ And he said tell them to move the hell out of here because it could get very ugly. I tell you it was like SS stuff, books destroyed, belongings…people. It was a terrible thing. I tried to give them a warning. I stood up on a ledge and blew my horn tried to get people up to fix things.”
I couldn’t believe it. Our own government. I read, but then I heard. If only I could have only saw. But I did see, I saw a fresh scar on Al’s face not from his street-tough days at Coney Island. This was probably a week old. I didn’t ask about it and he wouldn’t mention it, but I sure as hell saw it.
Most of my acquaintances and dear friends all support Occupy. They are skeptical. They don’t think there is anything direct, they don’t think they’re dong enough. “Occupy a Bank of America!” They have. They Occupied the Brooklyn Bridge for Christ’s sake. I’m just saying if you agree and have issues with it, don’t just sit by the cooler and complain, tell someone I’m sure there are people who agree and all of you can make the difference to help this movement get a little bit better.
When Matthew and I first showed up there was a drunk who stumbled in right behind them were what seemed to be a upper-middle class couple. The drunk man was using this place for refuge and the couple were using it like a museum. It was helpful either way. Unfortunately it shouldn’t be used for either it should be used for bettering our own country. The drunk started talking and ridiculing the 50 or so people occupying and this girl went off on him. I mean preaching it was angrily beautiful. And the rest of the crowd was saying, “Don’t be that guy.” In a rhythmic sort of way. “Don’t be that guy.” They got the cops, who were standing around the barricades surrounding the park, to say it, “Don’t be that guy.” We are all the 99%. It’s true, but what we should really worry about is being that guy. Don’t be that guy. That guy that turns their head to corruption or greed or insistence or wordplay or ignorance or racism or homophobia or anything else that plays with the soul of America. Don’t be that guy.
