Saturday, March 7 The first person I see as I walk down Front Street in Traverse City, Michigan to stand in front of our regional newspaper office, Record-Eagle, is old friend and organizer Ashlea Walters with her two children. How lovely, the children here in the bright March sun, demonstrating with us. They jump up and down (hop really—like small rabbit people) with child-sized signs in
I have been a long-time supporter of Planned Parenthood, giving regularly and willingly because Planned Parenthood is the single reason I didn’t get pregnant in college. Because here’s the truth; in the post free-love seventies, I was sexually active. I should say it louder. I was sexually active. (Does bolding the letters do it?) Not just active but maybe frenetic. Gosh, I loved sex. To
Forty-Four hours and twenty-two minutes from the time Bus 1 TC (organized by Becky Beauchamp) pulled away from Leelanau Studios to the time we arrived back at the parking lot. About nine of those hours were actually spent at the march in Washington D.C. I offer here what I saw, what I felt, the “understandings” that are now seared in memory, even some thoughts I