I wasn't going to go back to look for protesters, opting instead to stay at home and man the post
. But then everyone wanted Wendy's. And to get to Wendy's I have to go past the park. Where the protesters were supposedly hanging out. I tried to stay away. Really.
And there they were. Chanting, screaming, whatever it is they were doing. I flew by them at about 50mph, but I could still hear the strains of "How many kids did you kill today?" following me like a bad smell.
DJ wanted to go back. So we went through the Wendy's drive through and headed for the Home Depot parking lot across the street from the park entrance.
[Pardon the quality of the pictures. The sun was in a blinding, mid-set position]
There were quite a few people gathered on my side of the street; mostly gawkers who couldn't quite understand why those hippies across the street were yelling nasty things about 9/11 when the family members were in the park. Seriously.
Lady: Why are those hippies across the street yelling nasty things about 9/11 when the family members are in the park?
Man: Because they don't know any better.
Kid: That's rude.
So I start snapping pictures and the happy little hippies are waving and posing and chanting. They launch into a Bush Go Home thing.
Suddenly, DJ starts screaming at them. FOUR MORE YEARS! FOUR MORE YEARS! He's pumping his fist in the air as he shouts. Well, it wasn't until about thirty seconds later that I realized his middle finger was raised. Oh well. No worse than the protester who had her toddler daughter yelling out "Bush is a murderer!" Nice.
That's when I spot my new hero. There's this lone boy, couldn't be more than thirteen, standing about fifty feet to my left. He's holding this huge American flag, the kind someone in an honor guard holds. He's got the strap for it and everything. He's perfectly still. His face is set in stone. He stares across the street, through the traffic and over the heads of police officers, stared right at the protesters. His look is one of defiance, anger and pride. It was all I could do to keep from running up and hugging him.
His parents sat in a parked mini van behind us. I took a photo of their son and smiled at them. They smiled back, wide smiles filled with pride.
And then DJ and I tired of the chants and slogans and went home to eat our dinner.
[today's other president stalking posts are here