January was a very pink month. We started the year with our Anonymous Pie salon, a beautiful gathering on a beautiful day here on our houseboat. People shared poems, sang songs, read stories and ate pie. Also cake! It was a victory for kindness— a creative, imaginative exchange, a ray of light, pink light in this strangely bizarre, dark cloud of time. Then the storms came. Walloped us good. Then sunshine. More storms. And the women's march, the pink pussy revolt. Drew and Jenn marched in D.C. . Phyllis and our neighbor Iran marched in San Francisco. I served as pink pussy pit crew. I drove them in, dropped them off on Polk St., returned to Sausalito and did my own parallel, one-man march with pink scarf and umbrella down Bridgeway. Only I wasn't alone. A young couple a few yards ahead of me pushed a stroller and waved signs that said Love Trumps Hate, to passing cars, that honked in support. The woman smiled at me and said, "You gotta march where you can!"
Tula was working at the market so I stopped by and saw her - she had stitched, Smash The Patriarchy on her beanie. We had a quick dinner. Then I went and picked Iran and Phyllis up at the ferry building. They caught the last boat from SF, arrived cold and damp but elated. I felt good being their support crew, amazed at the state-wide, nation-wide, world-wide wave that is rising in the name of decency, humanity, sanity, and peace. January saw an enormous awakening.
And, yes, I discovered I have a new favorite color ~