United, We Bargain. Divided, We Beg

Life teaches us you can't always be someone's first choice.

S: Going down the list to see who might join me at Rapp Session. If I must, I will go alone, but I must eat more of their luscious crabcakes now. Can you join me?

Me: This moment or when?

S: No time like the present.

Since I was at a stopping point in my writing (waiting for a source to respond) and that bowl of soup I'd had for lunch was a distant memory, why wouldn't I stroll over to Rapp Session on the dot of 4 to see someone I hadn't seen in at least a year?

For that matter, why wouldn't I go eat a dozen discounted Old Saltes during oyster happy hour? Or sip my favorite orgeat lemonade given the 82-degree afternoon heat I'd walked through to get there? Not to mention that a few bites of those crabcakes my friend had been craving proved why we were in an oyster saloon in the first place.

As a Marylander might say, my, my, major backfin.

After catching up and filling up, I mentioned I was on my way to Abner Clay Park for the annual May Day parade and to my surprise, my friend wanted to join me, a sequel of sort to having been at the Science March in D.C. two weeks ago.

I started doing Richmond's May Day parade in 2009, back when I was laid off, on unemployment and trying to figure out the wreckage of my new life.

Then it had felt like a way to show solidarity with all those still fortunate enough to be employed as the Great Recession of 2008 trickled down. Now it felt like another thread in the anti-fascism tapestry decent Americans are trying to weave in reaction to a leader who just yesterday questioned why the Civil War could not be worked out.

Clearly when the Constitution was framed and the requirements for President laid out, the founding fathers couldn't foresee that it would be necessary to stipulate that he/she had a working knowledge of U.S. history. Sad.

Arriving at Abner Clay Park to a larger than usual police presence, a guy with the United National Antiwar Coalition handed me a flier and shared the reason for all the black and whites: a couple of white supremacists had shown up earlier and tried to pick a fight.

It's nothing short of terrifying how quickly the bigots have gotten comfortable with spewing their venom in public since 45 took the reins.

But they were gone now and tonight's pre-parade rally began, as they always do, with free food and short speeches about capitalism, socialism, and fighting white supremacy and the patriarchy while people socialized and chose signs, puppets and placards to carry.

My friend bravely took on a slug costume - paper mache slug head, business suit, cardboard briefcase emblazoned with the name of banks - Wells Fargo, Bank of America, Citibank - who took advantage of consumers for corporate gain.

A parade veteran, my pick was a large "Sanctuary" flag to wave. "Your shirt matches your flag," the harmonium player observed. I told her it wasn't intentional. "Yea, right!" she cracked, grinning.

Unsurprisingly, I ran into loads of friends: my favorite hippie couple, the tailor, the Civil War re-enactor, multiple servers from a favorite wine bar, the dancer, the Party Liberation Front maestro, the activist and, of course, the event's organizer, master puppet-maker Lily, herding cats, assigning parade duties and totally in her element.

She said the plan was to walk down Leigh Street, through the public housing projects and on to City Hall, but the police, who'd be escorting us, nixed that because of a situation involving a shooter on Northside.

Instead, the drum contingent led us down Marshall Street to City Hall, chanting all the way.

No hate
No KKK
No fascist USA

Whose streets?
Our streets!

Tonight's crowd was far larger than those of past parades (hmm, do you suppose people could be motivated by the daily onslaught of disturbing information coming out of the blowhard-in-chief?), so things got warm walking downtown between tall buildings with zero room for air flow. The good news was every cross street delivered a gusty breeze that whipped banners and cooled us off.

We finished at City Hall, sweaty but resolute, but they wouldn't let us in. Still, our point had been made.

As we walked back down Broad Street, my friend mentioned a dream two nights ago about something very like tonight's parade and wondered now if it had something to do with being in a period of Mercury Retrograde (when coincidences are more common and frustration reigns supreme) since I'd been the one to share the news about the parade when we met up.

I said that on my walk this morning, I'd thought about where I might go eat tonight, considered Rapp Session and decided I wouldn't have time to get there before the parade. Mighty coincidental, both.

As for Mercury Retrograde's other effects, I can only assume that frustration was the motivation behind the carful of girls I just now heard egging the apartment downstairs. No doubt one of the young male occupants living underneath me was the source of frustration.

You can't always be someone's first choice, honey. You'll learn that what matters is who - or what - you're playing second fiddle to.

Yes, You May

Tra-la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes
Blissfully astray!

Allergies aside, May is my favorite month of the year and today it begins. Besides my natal anniversary, I'm one of those oddballs who actually loves summer, yes, heat and humidity and all.

Add in long days, beach time and the ability to wear cuter clothes and I'm I'm all aflutter that May is here and the season of sun and wicked thoughts is just ahead.

I began my May Day celebration with my walk, haphazardly getting a peek at some of the collegiate  bikers in town for this weekend's race when I strolled by the Doubletree and saw a clutch of them in Spandex and bike shoes milling about a Les-McRae College van, looking eager to mount and start.

The street closures are already causing congestion in my neighborhood given how close to both Broad and Belvidere I live, but I refuse to get my panties in a wad because of vehicular inconvenience when we've got all these cyclists in town for the weekend not only to entertain us, but to further the cause of Richmond becoming more of a true cycling city.

After my walk, I was off to begin my birthday month with my annual gift to myself: a massage.

Although it's been a year since my last massage, the girl remembered me, saying she recognized my name at once when she saw it in her schedule book. Given my innocuous name, that's quite a memory.

There's nothing like taking off your clothes so a stranger can rub all the knots out of you and that hour passed in a wet noodle flash. I could have a massage every week of my life and never tire of being pummeled.

Now May could officially begin.

Back home, I walked over to Black Sheep for lunch, enjoying the fragrance of all the trees and bushes in bloom, looking for an appropriately light lunch on the menu, eventually choosing a wedge salad with Granny Smith apple slices, celery, grapes, croutons and goat cheese under honey mustard dressing.

But, inspired by the menu's humor - vegetarian's soup: because you care, omnivore's soup: because you don't - I also ordered a side of bacon with my salad. Because I don't care.

"Now you're just making me hungry," the server said when she brought my two plates. "That looks like a great combination!"

And it was. My only complaint was that the stellar housemade honey mustard dressing, full of flavorful mustard seeds, was ladled on with a heavy hand and all but drowned out the ingredients of the salad, which struck me as a cross between a wedge and a waldorf salad.

But I made do, wiping off the thickest parts, adding in all that bacon and feeling like I'd hit on a lovely May Day lunch.

Feeling lusty and looking for more ways to go blissfully astray before it's all over.

This Is What Democracy Looks Like

Last year I participated in the first rva May Day parade, here, feeling the need to represent and show my support for the unemployed workers of whom I'd recently become a member. Here I am a year later, still looking for work (the Census won't go on forever) and marching today in my second May Day parade.

The rally began at 4:00 at Abner Clay Park and we heard from various speakers from organizations like Food Not Bombs, the Socialist Party and the Virginia People's Assembly; some were inspirational, others informational and one guy did some excellent spoken word. The organizers had even secured a permit this year, giving us a police escort as we headed down Clay Street past my house into Carver to Harrison, where we headed up to Broad and turned onto Adams. Along Broad Street, restaurant employees stood outside watching us since the dinner rush had not yet begun.

Last year's parade was part of First Fridays and stayed in that area, so tonight's route was far longer. People were out on the streets in much large numbers this year too, watching and waving us on; it may have been the music and our chanting that brought them out of their houses. Traffic was stopped for us at key intersections and we even got some honks of approval and raised fists from supporters as we moved along. Mostly, people took pictures and waved but at least they saw our message.

The sign I was carrying high over my head said, "Solidarity. Workers Unite." Assuming my status doesn't change, next year I plan to make my own sign to acknowledge people like me. I think it'll say something like. "Jobs for ALL."

But whether I'm working or not, I know I'll be walking in the parade. After all, May Day kicks off my birthday month and there's nothing like a parade to begin the festivities.

Likewise, there's no feeling quite like being part of democracy in action.

I'm Practically a Pro at This

I say that because I marched in my second parade Friday night. Unlike the Halloween parade, however, this one was more significant because it was a May Day Rally. May Day is the celebration of social and economic achievement and the struggle of the labor movement. As a member of the unemployed masses these days, I felt like being part of a worker-supportive demonstration was a most worthwhile way for me to spend some time.

So I showed up at Abner Clay Park (okay, so it's only 2 blocks from my apartment) promptly at 7 because Kenny, one of the organizers, had told me earlier in the day that I needed to be there on time to get something to carry in the parade. The reward for my punctuality? A paper-mache ear. And while I was happy to be part of the "body part" contingent (I was the lips last parade), I ended up trading my ear for a a big WORKERS UNITE sign. Call me a wimp, but that ear was heavy (it was as tall as I am), so I gave it to a guy friend to carry...and it wore him out, so I know it would have challenged me.

The police presence was huge; as I walked up the block to the park I could see cop cars everywhere, so I asked an officer why so many were there. His response was, "This is Richmond, Where's there's lots of people, there will be lots of police." For a bunch of people carrying puppets and paper mache ears? Seriously? In any case, after telling us we couldn't walk in the streets, the cops were good enough to provide a police escort as we did walk in the streets on our abbreviated route.

Plenty of people watched, cheered and pointed as we made our way through Jackson Ward. Like the Halloween parade, it was great fun to do. But unlike that event, I felt proud to be showing my support for the causes of workers everywhere...a group I hope to rejoin in the near future.