Eulogy for Nathaniel James Greenan

 

Nate Greenan April 29, 1975- April 18, 2012

given by Celia Greenan Ashcroft on April 21, 2012

(Note:  Celia delivered this Eulogy with the poise of a pro.  She was elected because she demanded the funeral and she “knew him longest” according to Val.  Celia feels guilty claiming it as her own piece of writing and would like to cite HF and our family as supporting authors.  But really, she wrote it and she nailed it.  Good job Celia and thank you for honoring our brother in this way.)

I was worried about how I was going to manage to speak to you today considering the tender feelings in my heart. Then I remembered the stage training given to me all of my life by my, Pam Greenan. In the musical Annie Get Your Gun, there is a line in the song “There’s no business like show business.” It says “There’s no people like show people, they smile when they are low.” I will be a show person.

1983 at the SF Zoo.  Pam, Val in stroller, Nori, Ellie, Celia, Paige and Nate.

1986 Celia, Pam, Phil, Val, Jim, Ellie, Nori, Paige and Nate

I am the oldest of eight Greenan children. There are six girls and two boys. Nate was born third, on April 29, 1985. I was four and Paige was just fourteen months old. Nate was born at Marin General hospital in San Rafael, California. My dad was especially overjoyed to have a son. When Nate was born, we lived in a little yellow house on 32 W Castlewood in San Rafael, and when he was four we moved to a larger home on Palm Ave in the same town.

Nate as a child.  Trifold display at funeral made by Val, Cam and Ellie.

Nate lived most of his childhood in a house full of girls. Our other brother, Phil, wasn’t born until Nate was 10. He tolerated us well, but definitely owned his masculinity. Once when we were small, Paige and I dressed Nate up in a ballet costume and we all played ballet together. My dad came home from work, saw his son all gussied up, and took Nate to the Army Navy surplus store posthaste. Suffice it to say, there was lots of camo around after that. This incident was the beginning of Nate’s fascination with the army. He was enamored with his grandfather Karl Bromley who served in WWI and was fascinated with the history like his father. Karl Bromley died when Nate was an infant and I imagine that he has enjoyed getting reacquainted with him now. Nate is famous for forcing younger sisters Ellie, Lenore, and Val to play GI Joes and other boy games with him.

Right before Phil was born, in 1985, our family moved to Danville, where he finished elementary school at Vista Grande and went on to Los Cerros Middle school and Monte Vista high school. My parents still live in the house that many of his school friends visited for its various entertainment options, including a skateboarding half pipe built in our backyard when he was still in middle school. That half pipe was situated neatly by the swimming pool, thus providing me and my sisters with a luxurious place to watch boys do tricks.

After high school, Nate lived in various places in the east bay, ending up in Pleasant Hill, where he lived for many years. Although he loved the snow and the surf, he was a Bay Area person from start to finish.

Nate in middle school.

I have had a lot of input about what to say today, and many of the same themes kept surfacing. Although it is impossible to define a person, there are some attributes that continually resurfaced in the stories people told me about Nate. Nate was intelligent and he was adventurous. He was cool and he was musical. Nate was agile and he was enthusiastic. Most of all, he was loyal.

Nate was probably best known for his enthusiasm. In talking to family and friends, and looking over facebook comments, almost everybody mentioned how fun it was to be around him when he was excited about something. If he loved something, he made sure everybody knew about it and was as excited as he was. He was popular at our house during Christmas time. Even if it wasn’t his turn for a big present, he always got one because he was so eager to receive and stoked about whatever he got. We would fight about who got to ride in the car with him on the way to vacations, especially Hawaii, because his excitement was contagious. I’m sure his friends found his enthusiasm as alluring as we did and it attracted them to him.

Nate loved toys. When he was little, he collected star wars figures and GI Joes, and when he was big, he liked big boy toys. Primary on his list was boards. Snow boards, skate boards, surf boards, skim boards and even little tiny finger boards he could play with inside were his favorites. His next priority was things with motors. He liked motorcycles, minibikes, jet skis, wave runners, go carts, and cars. Many cars. We couldn’t resist making a list of the cars we remembered, and I’m sure we missed a few. If you are a car person and you knew Nate, maybe you remember his white Blazer, or his red Integra. He drove my mom’s red Vanagon for a while, and he had two Tacoma trucks, a red one and a white one. He had a black acura, a green Jeep Cherokee, a white Bronco, a white CRV, and finally the car he called his “mom Lexus.” He was generous with rides when he had gas and you could almost always count on riding along with a dog.

Nate at the Danville Children’s Musical Theater where he drummed for 17 years.

One thing I recently learned about Nate was that he had tools he used to fix his toys. We didn’t come from a household that used a lot of tools, so I was surprised to learn that he was fond of tinkering with things and could actually fix some of them!

High School Senior Portrait

I know I don’t have to tell anybody here that Nate was cool. He was an outlier. He knew instinctively what the next big thing was in his community, and he embraced it before anybody else had ever heard of it. I was four years older than Nate and he was always, always cooler than me. He knew all of the music long before I did, he knew the styles, he knew the slang, he knew the people. He knew the cool people my age, and they wouldn’t give me the time of day. He had it, whatever it was. I still don’t know. Of course, because he was so cool, he was always young. You can never be old and cool. We were all surprised to realize that he was 36 when he died. He was too cool to be that old.

Drumming.

All of my siblings have stories about Nate’s tutelage in cool. Nate and Paige were coolness competitors. He taught her how to Safety pin her jeans. He used to make mix tapes for Ellie and instruct her to pay attention to them. He taught Lenore about horror movies. He made Val into a baseball champ by throwing balls at her head. He taught Phil how to ride a motorcycle. He attempted to teach Camille how to wakeboard but that was a failure. He even tried to make his nieces and nephews cool by sneaking them away from their mothers so they could do things like ride pocket bikes on the Los Cerros black top. He even taught them how to hide their wounds with their clothing so they wouldn’t get in trouble.

Nate and Dibo

Due to his agility, one of the coolest things Nate did was win the Northern California skateboarding championship title when he was only sixteen. He was sponsored by labels including Bullpen skates, Think, the Shop, DC, Osirus, and Joyride. Nate was uniquely qualified for skateboarding because he was strong, brave, and small. Skateboarding led to snowboarding, another sport in which his agility served him well. He loved snowboarding. He spent endless hours in the snow with his friends or with his dad. His favorite thing was to go snowboarding with his friends and his dad. He would meet my dad at the lift ticket window, get his sponsored-by-Jim ticket, and then take off and meet us at the end of the day. It was fun to ski down the hill with him swooping back and forth and all around.

Nate could do amazing tricks with his body. One of our family’s favorite Nate tricks was watching him surf on a boogie board across the pool to the diving board. He would then grab the diving board and do chin ups. It was a good show.

Speaking of shows, Nate was a drummer for almost all of the shows at my mom’s theater company, Danville Children’s Musical Theater. He fulfilled his responsibility of keeping the children on beat, and I bet he knew more about musical theater than anyone here other than my mom. Nate started playing the drums when he was an adolescent and loved being in bands. His most successful was a band called Open Your Eyes. He was famous for it and had his picture in the newspaper. He was in the newspaper all of the time, even when he was a child. It was part of his cool thing.

Nate in Hawaii, his most beloved vacation spot.  He was nearly a local.

My brother Nate was a very intelligent person. I almost always spotted him with a Time magazine in his hand at my parents house, and he was eager to discuss politics or world events with willing participants. As a kid, his favorite book was the encyclopedia, and he kept a stash of National Geographics in his apartment.

Another thing I recently learned about Nate was that he was a writer. He scribbled down his feelings and thoughts and kept those journals with him. The night before he died he even wrote a note to himself about his future.

 

The fam at Phil and Aubrey’s wedding.

July 4, 2011.  Our last all-kids-there family photo.  Paige, Nate, Ellie, Val, Celia, Nori, Cam, Phil, Pam

Having a good vocabulary was always important to Nate. I’m sure his well-spoken Grandma Fae will appreciate his efforts when she speaks with him now. One favorite family story happened when he was about nineteen. He worked at an art supply store, and a customer asked him where to find a pen. Nate replied that there were a plethora of pens available in the next aisle. The customer was surprised to hear a stereotypical skate kid use SAT vocabulary words. It was typical Nate. He loved going against type.

 

Brothers, 10 years apart.  Phil and Nate in Hawaii

Out of all of the virtues that Nate held, the most important is loyalty. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention his dogs and his devotion to them. Nate’s first dog was named DOG and it wasn’t even his. I believe it belonged to his lifelong friend Matt Ferris. DOG inspired Nate to get his own dog as soon as he could, and he did, a yellow dog named Chewy. Chewy’s best trick was pulling him on his skateboard, for which he was awarded yet another picture in the newspaper.

Probably Nate’s most beloved dog was Dibo, the brindle pit bull that most of you remember. He loved Dibo and when Dibo died last year, we lost a part of Nate also. He was so sad. Thankfully he had recently acquired a younger dog, a grey one called Sierra. One of Nate’s friends has adopted Sierra and I’m sure he is happy to know that she will be well cared for.

Nate’s best bud Dibo.

Nate inspired loyalty among his many, many friends. Nate has more friends than anyone that I know. People loved him, including Matt and Ryan Choate, another lifelong friend. I know he would be touched to see all of the friends that are here today to remember him and he would love to visit with each of you. I hope you know in your hearts that you are important to him.

Nate, Dibo and Matt Faris

Nate was especially sweet around newborns, and he always came to visit any new niece or nephew in the hospital if he could. He loved being around babies. My brother Phil and his wife Aubrey recently had their first baby, a boy. It means a lot to Phil that Nate was able to see and meet Teddy before he left this earth. Nate was glad there was a son who would carry the Greenan name because he was worried that he might not have the chance to have his own baby. It brings us my family comfort to know that there is the possibility of him having his own children in the next life.

 

Nate and Jude, 2008

Nate and Mimi, 2007

Nate and Sylvie, 2008

Nate and Griffin, 2003

 

Nate and Bea

 

Nate and Sylvie 2008

My sister Lenore thinks Nate wanted to go to paradise early so he could show us all around when we got there. He’ll know all of the cool spots to go before anyone else, as usual. I think Nate will be happy to be able to give something back to my parents. They supported him with devotion and dedication and he will be able to greet them and help them in the next life.

I loved my brother. It feels so weird to have him gone and it is sad to consider the rest of my life with one of us missing. I know most of you feel the same way. You love him like a brother and you will miss him. I have found peace in the knowledge, though, that through the atonement of our other brother Jesus Christ, I will be able to see and have a relationship with Nate again.

Paige, Val, Lenore, Phil, Camille, Celia, Ellie 

(birth order is Celia, Paige, Nate, Ellie, Nori, Val, Phil, Cam.)

Celia giving the Eulogy

Pall Bearers Max, Phil, Ryan, Matt, Mark Ryan

 

Each of the siblings put Nate’s favorite skate stickers on his casket.

The grandchildren present put flowers on the casket.

Dad dedicated the grave.

   

Cousins Anna, Karl and Axel with Paige

The Greenan Family

Families can be together forever.

Val, Paige, Ryan McAllister, Lenore, Cam, Pam, Jim, Ellie, Mark Maher, Aubrey Greenan, Teddy, Phil, Celia, Carl Ashcroft

Max A, Henry A, Sol W, Bea W, Griffin M, Alice A, Mimi C, Cece W, Claire A, Fiona W  (smaller grandchildren not pictured)

Daffodil Days

It’s the most beautiful time of year in the North Bay.  Yellow is everywhere. 

This season is particularly meaningful for me and my three little kids. 

When I went to the hospital to have my sweet little Mimi it was in the middle of a huge storm.  The whole time I was in the hospital it rained and rained and I watched it from the window.  Mimi’s name Miranda is from Shakespeare’s play “The Tempest” and I tell her it’s because she was born on a rainy day. 

When I got out of the hospital with my brand new baby the clouds had parted and the first daffodils of spring had bloomed.  Perhaps it was the post-labor euphoria, but I swear the world was the most beautiful I had ever seen because I had my sweet little ray of sunshine.

Every time the daffodils bloom I think of Mimi, my daffodil girl.

I try to get professional pictures of me and my kids every six months, just because I always have and I like to compare how we’ve changed.

Thanks to our lovely photographer Whitney, she always does an amazing job!

Mimi age 5, Jude age 3 1/2, Silas age 2, February 2012.

Local Color

On our Fisherman’s Wharf adventure we were accosted by this lovely drive-by. 

It’s San Francisco, what are you going to do?  Naked people might ride by on bikes.

The naked bike riders made me think. 

My kids are just getting to the age where I have to start thinking about nudity and appropriateness and all that boring junk. 

I realize I’m on the fence.

There are definitely two ways to look at it, and in the above video you see both.  Some Guy turned his back and attempted to shield the kids.  I cheered their free-wheeling on.  After they went by the kids and I talked about it.  The people were riding their bikes naked just for fun, but it isn’t something kids should do.  Some day if they want to ride in a naked bike ride they can, but for now we only take off our clothes around our Mama or Dada.

I’m not offended by public nudity.  I don’t think it’s that weird, just amusing.  I like the idea of people doing what they want to do, and the rebel in me enjoys the fact that they may be offending innocent bystanders, like ourselves.  But should my little children be exposed to naked in that way?  It’s non-sexual which is, I guess, natural. 

This exposure seems to me like a celebration of the bodies God gave us.  It’s borderline lewd, but not in a necessarily sexual or disgusting sort of way. 

As mentioned, I’m Aloha about Body Image.  I like my body and I like other people’s bodies just the way they are.  If it were up to me and Mimi, we’d wear bikinis around all day every day.

Mimi and I both sleep in bikinis during the summer.

Do we shield our children’s eyes on the beaches in France?  How about the National Geographic pictures?  What about nursing mothers, should they hide themselves if they don’t feel like it?  Some Guy maintains that I don’t know how the male brain works.  I believe in the Seinfeld label “good naked” and “bad naked.”  If it’s not attractive it’s not sexual and therefore not offensive to me. 

I read an article the other day about a hat designer (ahem, milliner) in London who sent her models down the runway naked.  They were just wearing hats.  But here’s the kicker: one of the models was pregnant.  Naked and pregnant and walking the runway.  This was a hard one for me.  I like the idea of pregnant women rocking their pregnant bodies, even naked and proud.  But as a publicity stunt?  Despite the fact that I love how she is comfortable in her skin, there’s the obvious use of sex for advertising.  Or maybe it’s shock value for advertising?  Couldn’t she just have been pregnant and modeling?  That would have been a statement enough for me, I think.  I’m not 100% sure on this and could be swayed.  It’s just very interesting to me.

Posing pregnant and naked is not a new thing.  Demi Moore, Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson to name a few (clearly bastions of morality) have all posed in magazines naked and pregnant.  I don’t believe in nudity to sell things. 

But if you’re in a naked bike riding club, I say go for it.  I will cheer you and your nakedness on, maybe I’ll even join you some day.  Just don’t try to sell me anything.

Hair Oppression

When you are in a funk the absolute WORST thing you can do is change your hair.  So, of course, that is exactly what I did.

The inspiration was Uma Thurman as Mrs. Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction, and this amazingly hot girl. 

 

First I chopped it off because it was damaged from the coloring and getting too tangled.  It looked like this:

Katy Perry copied (ok, didn’t copy, just did it at the same time) my pink hair and then I saw this picture with short pink hair and grrr.  So out came the dye.

And this is the result:

With normal sophisticated hair none of my clothes coordinate very well any more.  And I have to wear makeup all the time to look not-washed out.  And I look pg in the bridge picture, but it’s just my bulky coat.

Um, I kind of totally hate it.  It’s been almost a month and I am already so sick and tired of this new hair.  I loved it at first because it was such a drastic change and I liked looking like Simone:

But I had no idea how accustomed I’ve gotten to having pink hair.  I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror without it.  I was intending to blend in a little bit as we shift from ward to ward and deal with drama. 

I’m probably going back to pink again shortly.  Or maybe blue.  This Normal thing is just not working for me.  It’s sucking my will to live.

Mama Said I Was A Dancer before I Could Walk

The eve of another fabulous production by the Danville Children’s Musical Theater sparked a conversation with Some Guy about dance and why it’s so important in my life.  My nieces and nephew and I did a preview of “Never Fully Dressed” from Annie the other night at a family party.  I teach the choreography for these plays and often bring Mimi along to watch.  She stands in the back and copies our moves so she was able to participate in the preview.  After the song Julian excitedly tells his dad, “I want to learn how to do that!” 

BUY TICKETS HERE!  Thanksgiving weekend and the weekend after, buy quickly because they’re selling out.

Some Guy has a lot of music experience but NO theatrical experience.  He doesn’t get Musicals.  I don’t get that he doesn’t get it.   The indoctrination process is happening slowly, but just wait til he sees his own kids on stage some day.  He’ll be converted.

In order to adequately explain why I love dance so much I needed to walk him through my personal history with dance: all the weirdness, all the coolness, all the uniqueness that makes dance so great.

Dance is important to me because a simple move or position can communicate something as specific as “I am a Migrant Farm worker” (remember that Ellie?) to the exuberance we all feel when we get the job or leave for a vacation or whatever the emotion might be.  The tool is the body, the medium is the music, the rest is up to the interpretation of the audience.

The following videos encapsulate what Dance is to me:  it’s weird, it’s effortlessly cool, it’s a religious experience.

Jo Baker was in Paris during the Harlem Renaissance.  She rides the line between modern, burlesque and straight up inappropriate.  She’s best known for the Banana Dance.  Skip to 50 seconds.

Isadora Duncan was an early eccentric modern dancer.  She’s thick, short weird ballet dancer who danced with scarves.  And was a complete individual.

Martha Graham Dance Company.  Martha Graham is the mother of modern dance.  Notice how she uses costumes and fabric as extensions of the dancer’s bodies.  Skip to 2:40. 

Following Martha is Twyla Tharp.  This picture sums her style up I think: imperfect angles, bent ankles, elbows, knees, etc.  Her style is also simply weird and great.

 

 

Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse.  Skip to 55 seconds.  Usually it was Fred and Ginger Rogers, but I don’t think Ginger kept up any where near as well as Cyd Charisse did.  Check out her legs.  They just don’t quit.

Jerome Robbins made the jump from ballet to modern.  Remember the Sharks and the Jets?  That’s Jerome Robbins.  Skip to 45 seconds.

And later on there’s Fosse.  Watch for wrist curls, jazz hands, and sharp angled movements.  Also big on shoulder rolls.

 

My personal favorite of all time modern dance is Alvin Ailey’s Revelations.  Set to Gospel music, this nearly all African American composition communicates faith and the weight of the world on the human spirit.  You have to watch this whole piece.  Note the crouched wings pose, that’s a theme throughout the whole piece.  I love this piece because it tells the story of a woman burdened and how she relies on the other dancer (a minister or the Lord) to both guide and support her.  Sometimes they are in sync, sometimes she can do things on her own, some times he has to be the support.  This is one of my very favorite pieces of art.

MJ.  Smooth Criminal.  One of the first dances I learned when my brothers and sisters would watch Moonwalker ad nauseum.  Iconic.

John Travolta exudes cool.  Any time that man dances he hardly has to even move to sell the feeling of a dance.  I love his understated but full commitment.  He’s a badass.

So You Think You Can Dance Season 4 dance with Mark and Chelsie.  Right dance at the right time for me, has a lot of personal significance.

And one of my favorite ballet dances:  the Waltz of the Snowflakes!  A whole bunch of ballerinas spazzing out with snow falling?  Yes, thank you!

 

Grown Up Rebels

“Punks make the best parents because they raise kids to think outside the box, to question everything they're told, to understand the impact of politics on their lives, and, above all, to be open-minded. The children of punks -- even if they go on to have no interest in the genre/ lifestyle whatsoever -- are unlikely to beat up another kid at school for being weird, and they are probably less likely to discriminate against others.”

“Why Punk Rockers Make Great Parents” by Rae Alexandra, SF Weekly.

It’s taken me a long time to reconcile my LDS culture with my personal culture.  My dad is a convert and ex-hippie and my mother is, well, there is really no simple phrase that would adequately describe my mom.  She’s righteous, theatrical, assertive, independent, and capable among many other things.  Both of them are great examples.  They’ve seen it all and accept all kinds.  I like to think they were both rebels as youth in California in the 1960’s. 

 

Pam and Jim in the ‘60’s.

I was raised with a lot of freedom – I could take BART into Berkeley and SF and be gone all day exploring.  Weekends were spent out and about learning a variety of cultural things.  We went to  theater, I went to court with my dad, we went on outdoor adventures.  Despite being raised in the suburbs we were exposed a lot of places, people and things.  For that I am grateful. 

As a teen I became particularly interested in street culture.  I’d go to Telegraph Ave in Berkeley and chat up the punk kids to see what they were all about.  My friends and I would go to the Haight and shop the killer vintage stores. 

On Haight with friends in 1999.  Caroline getting a tattoo that day, not me.

On the home front I was absolutely hideous.  Imagine your most contentious teenager and then triple that – that was the war waged between me and my parents. Our relationship was rocky and my life became rocky and my church attendance became rocky.  I emerged tattooed, pierced and kind of wild.

 

Visiting my friends Cat and Marie at BYU.  Me feeling a lot freaked.

The good news is they did not shove me off a bridge during that part of my life.  I officially apologize for causing you both so much trouble.  Thankfully I “grew up” around age 21 and met my first husband at the LA 1st ward.  After we were married we moved to London where I became even more enamored with street culture upon visiting Camden Lock and other haunts associated with punk originals – The Clash, Sex Pistols, etc.  You may see freaky people with mohawks and Dr. Martins who make you uncomfortable, I see people I’m used to being around.  Punks and weird looking people are often the most accepting non-judgmental people you’ll ever meet.

Berlin, Rome, Red, Purple.

When I started having kids I moved back into the suburban culture that I commonly associate with being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  I began to look more “normal” in order to make friends and feel comfortable as a young mother in an affluent suburban neighborhood.  Time to look and act grown up, you know.  I made a lot of amazing friends, but I didn’t really feel like myself – like I was somehow ashamed of my moderately colorful past because I was blending into the culture.  I guess I assumed that LDS people, being traditionally culturally conservative, would not listen to what I say and take it seriously if I did not look like them.  I remember getting all ready for church and running my outfit past my then-husband.  “Too many spikes and pins.  Tone it down.”  And I’d usually agree with him.  I didn’t want to freak anybody out. 

New mom, looking as normal as I can.  Am I passing for normal??

But since I’ve had children I’ve found my “normal” self come creeping back in.  The hair.  The metal spikes on anything.  Lots of black and boots.  The music.  The don’t like me I don’t care attitude.  The liberal (even fascist or anarchist!) politics. 

And I think being a punk parent is can be a very good thing.

Churchbound.

Having my three little minions has given me the confidence to be exactly who I feel like being.  As I’ve allowed more of my “normal” self to the surface I have come to love the people around me for being true Christians.  I have one very good friend who recently moved from Utah and had been very much submerged in traditional culture (which is not bad, just different).  She once told me how glad she was to have her children know someone like me because they will learn that you don’t have to be a certain way to be a faithful member of the LDS church.  We aren’t all the same and that’s ok. 

And right now is the weird-Mormon’s moment.  Sure, we have Mitt Romney and John Hunstman  doing their thing.  But their “typical” Mormonhood might be the reason more non-traditional Mormons are bubbling to the surface.  Finally, after 30 years of membership in the church, I am finding some Mormons who can speak for me. 

 

Three things I want you to hear/see:

1)  Talk of the Nation

The second half of this podcast from NPR is an interview with Joanna Brooks.  Ms. Brooks is a Professor at San Diego State and her writing about Mormonism has appeared in the NY Times.  She’s politically liberal and has a voice largely unheard in the LDS community. 

2)  The video below really resonated with me.  Having children turned my heart to what is really important.  PS, HAVE I MENTIONED I WANT TO DO ONE OF THESE?!  Who makes these videos??  I LOVE this ad campaign.

 

3)  'The Other F Word

A new documentary explores punks who have children and become families.  The other F word is “Fatherhood.”  The above trailer is for a new documentary about Grown-up punk rockers and their families.  It talks about how to raise children when you yourself were a rebellious child. 

Occupy Oakland! Democracy-Democrado

The kids and I went to the Occupy Oakland Protest on Wednesday.  According to Occupy Wall Street the purpose of the movement is thus:

“Occupy Wall Street is a people-powered movement that began on September 17, 2011 in Liberty Square in Manhattan’s Financial District, and has spread to over 100 cities in the United States and actions in over 1,500 cities globally. #OWS is fighting back against the corrosive power of major banks and multinational corporations over the democratic process, and the role of Wall Street in creating an economic collapse that has caused the greatest recession in generations. The movement is inspired by popular uprisings in Egypt and Tunisia, and aims to expose how the richest 1% of people are writing the rules of an unfair global economy that is foreclosing on our future.”

The Occupy Wall Street Movement has a lot of problems, most notably a specific game plan other than storming around making noise, but I believe in public demonstrations of Democracy.  I don’t know how we’re going to stop the Oligarchy, but I know that the American Dream of owning a home, a car, and having a job that adequately supports a family is in major crisis.  The economy is a disaster and children suffer the trickle down effects.  I blame both corporate greed and our American sense of entitlement (from which I have undoubtedly benefitted and am doubtlessly guilty).  This is not the best way to run a society and a government.  The system is broken and we all do what we need to do to survive within a broken system (including sleeping with “the man,”  love you Some Guy you Insurance Mathematician genius you!)

But wait, I’m from Danville.  Isn’t that where the 1% live?  According to CNN Money.com:

“Collectively, their adjusted gross income was $1.3 trillion. And while $343,927 was the minimum AGI to be included, on average, Top 1-percenters made $960,000.”

News to readers:  you are probably part of the 99%.

Thus, we went to support the 99%, even if we ourselves are part of the 5%. 

 

Grand Lake Theater

It’s been a long time since I went to a protest, but let me tell you how empowering and incredible they feel.  The best comparison I can make is like when you hear a huge group of missionaries singing “Armies of Helaman” or something.  You feel like you’re part of something positive and supporting something that has great importance.  If you’ve never been to a protest you should go.  Mimi got into it shouting “Banks got bailed out, we got sold out!”  They were a bit overwhelmed, but were proud to walk along with the parade.

Mimi’s sign. Representing the Pony Contingency.   

My sign got a lot of amusing attention.  I never miss an opportunity to represent the fact that Mormons are among us, even where less expected.  Also I’m not-so-secretly campaigning for my own “And I’m a Mormon” ad.  Somebody out there in blog land needs to hook a Sister up with connections to resolve her irrational pining for an “I’m a Mormon” ad.  I know one of you knows somebody involved in that ad campaign.  Send them my way! 

Jude’s sign.  

Our protests have popsicles!!

 

There were far more people there than I ever expected.  Nearly every street in downtown Oakland was filled with protesters.

 

And here’s the kicker: 

WE MADE THE NEW YORK TIMES!!

Here’s our article!  Front page, people, both online and in print!! 

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/03/us/occupy-oakland-protesters-set-sights-on-closing-port.html

Your Honor

Gotta go to court in a few days. Not looking forward to it. Need to address the hair and costume situation.
I'm trying to select the look that says "Nice to meet you, please rule in my and my children's favor."
What do you suggest? I do have a grown up penguin costume if the princess dress is "too much."