Adventure #48: Women's March

Yesterday, along with hundreds of thousands of women and supporters of women, I marched. I marched for equality, for an end to discrimination, regardless of race, gender, and socioeconomic status, and perhaps more importantly in protest of the tyrant who has taken the helm of this already great country. And it meant something to me. It meant something to be a small part of history, because we are better than this. And this is only the beginning.

Here were a few highlights:
1) The cars slowing down to video, clap, and honk along the route.
2) The 10-year-old boy screaming at the top of his lungs as we marched down the street to City Hall.
3) The Muslim mother and her teenage daughter clapping so fervently.
4) The wife of the white middle-aged couple looking up at her white husband and saying, "Thank you for coming."
5) Singing the National Anthem at the top of my lungs.
6) Watching my own partner weave his way through the crowd to stand by me and hold my hand.

The Fisherman

You know the type. The one that casts his net and sees what he can catch. Chooses one and then throws her back. Stay away from the fisherman. They like fishing more than anything else, anything substantial.