We Occupied Lansing But Skipped the T-Shirts

I took Bryant, Maya, Ben and Jerry to the Occupy Lansing rally today at the State Capitol Building. It was windy and gray and there weren’t as many people there as I had hoped – at first. The crowd soon swelled to hundreds, young and old, hippies and professionals, and everybody chanted and applauded and responded to the speakers as if they had stopped at Biggby’s Coffee beforehand and primed themselves with double cappuccinos and triple lattes because they knew they were a part of something big even if Faux News didn’t agree.

Lansing Mayor Virg Bernero was first, introduced by talk show host Tony Trupiano. Using index cards and a bullhorn, he fired up the crowd and introduced his elderly father as an example of those held in contempt by the Richest One Percent. Bryant and Maya clapped, more out of respect for the nice old man, I think, than from agreement with America’s Angry Mayor. He wasn’t at his best this morning but it could have been worse.

A young woman who had screamed herself hoarse at Occupy Wall Street for a week, had been arrested and molested, and had returned home more convinced than ever that this fight was right spoke next. Although she seemed like a professional activist who had carefully chosen her wool cap and ensemble, her words resonated with the crowd and her smile was contagious.

An activist from Rochester was up next. He read his lengthy speech about the evils of ALEC – the nefarious American Legislative Exchange Council, which works with conservative Republican legislators across America to screw the rest of us – word-for-word and plugged an anti-ALEC website.

A 37-year-old woman who had suffered from rheumatoid arthritis her whole life followed the anti-ALEC dude. She started out slow but found her stride and riled up the crowd with her story about struggling with insurance companies, depression and chronic pain. Her plug for medical marijuana was met with scattered applause, and when she decided to put the faulty bullhorn down and project her rage to the sympathetic crowd, I became her fan.

Although an odd-looking SUV with “Homeland Security Federal Protective Service” emblazoned on the side cruised slowly by as we were walking to the Capitol, there wasn’t much of a police presence. I counted just two police cars, and one of the coppers even smiled at my dogs.

The crowd was attentive and supportive. I didn’t see any bare feet, hackey sacks, skateboards or marijuana; although I did run across an older, clean-cut guy carrying a bongo drum, he didn’t play it. No one objected to my blocking their view as I stood in front of them to take a photo. Even though today’s event was all about “us vs. them,” I felt the same sense of community, of connectedness, that I felt back in February when I attended a worker rights rally with a few of my kids. We’re not alone. Other people are mad as hell and won’t take it anymore.

We left after the arthritic woman finished speaking because the kids were getting antsy and had “seen enough of history being made.” (On the way downtown, I had explained what Occupy Lansing was all about, why more than 1,000 rallies were taking place around the world, and how they were helping to make history by turning off their XBOX 360 and joining me.) It was time to switch our focus from class warfare to the gridiron rivalry between Michigan State University and the arrogant boys from the Big House in Ann Arbor.

I’m rooting for the Spartans. And I’m rooting for the 99 Percent.