Marching on Pennsylvania Avenue

It was the first day of Spring at the nation’s capital as cherry trees quietly bloom into their rosy, pink and white colors. That it blooms after blistering winter months gave this timid soul hope that despite all our tribulations, life begins anew in Spring.

At Pennsylvania Avenue, there were thousands of marchers donning island print shirts and humble mwarmwars, holding placards with scribbles like “Make Us a part of You” or “Whatever happened to the good times, Mr. Prez?”

It was a peaceful march of freedom by islanders from this remote part of the Pacific ever determined to convey a message that the federal government can no longer promote policies of exclusion.

At the end of Pennsylvania Avenue (fronting the White House) was a small stage equipped with powerful public address system. Two islanders wrapped in traditional loin cloth brought forth husked young coconuts in a basket and left it at the main gate of the White House.

There was an envelop in the coconut basket with a message saying: “Mr. President, we too are a part of our great country, therefore, deserving of every ounce of your pronouncements on economic opportunities for our people”. It continued: “It is morally wrong to force US mainland taxpayers to shoulder the cost in the millions of dollars under your plan of a federal takeover”.

I went for a long walk to the plaza around the Lincoln Memorial. As I took a step back to capture the towering structure before me, Rev. Jesse Jackson asked what was the march all about at Pennsylvania Avenue?

I offered: “It’s a march of freedom from our simple folks at home for we too believe in our rights for all the economic opportunities our country has enjoyed especially in the last three years. We just want to remind President Clinton that the ‘economic good times’ never descended in our islands”.

Said he: “Sir, democracy has its strange, long and often uphill road to protect one’s rights and freedom. Go on with your heads up high for we sympathize with your efforts on that long journey to awaken a gigantic bureaucracy that often neglect to ‘listen’ to the voices of the governance at the local level”.

At a distance was the Jefferson Memorial. I decided to visit and say my prayers and thank him for a lasting preamble that we now find in our US Constitution. It gave us tolerance of our errors and hope of the opportunities ahead to carve a more peaceful union. I then decided to call it a day and headed back to my hotel. I flagged down a taxi for the ride home. Along the way, we passed by the National Arlington Cemetery. There was a small crowd with limousines at the entrance. I asked to get down.

I wasn’t allowed to get anywhere near the tiny gathering. So I used my zoom lens to explore who’s visiting. It was President Clinton and entourage. Security was tight and one of his men said sternly, “Sir, that’s as far as you can go”.

As I was leaving, the security related what he just heard the maintenance man convey to President Clinton when they shook hands:

“Mr. President, our jobs are very similar”, he offered.

“How’s that, sir?” quizzed President Clinton.

“You see, the people below us never listen to our instructions. In my case, it’s the dead heroes who are buried here and can’t hear a word I say. In your post, most of the people below you hardly listen which contributes to messy events in the lives of Americans throughout the country”.

That made my day somewhat. By the time I headed off to catch another tax cab, the alarm clock sounded off meaning another three solid hours surfing the net before scribbling issues for, well, this corner of the paper. Take charge and be good, yeah?