The end of the beginning
On Saturday, I happened to come across the weekly protest in front of our local Tesla dealership. I was on my way to celebrating 50 years of Sigona’s Farmers Market, one of my favorite stores, and it felt good to see the protesters and hear the supportive honking of the cars driving by. At times, it made it hard to hear the speeches at the anniversary celebration, and yet, it was a sound that belonged to the soundscape of this Saturday afternoon at Stanford Shopping Center. You run your errands and while you’re at it, you also voice your protest against what’s going wrong with the current government. And then you make sure to support one of the few remaining family-run businesses in the area. The Sigonas started with a farm stand along highway 101, and then built up two grocery stores where you can find more speciality items per square meter (pardon: square foot) than in any big box retailer near and far. Last year, they even got their hands on jet fresh white asparagus from Europe, and made me the happiest customer of all times since I moved here almost two decades ago.
On Sunday, I happened to come by a protest at an intersection on El Camino Real. I was on my way to the farmers market downtown Menlo Park, and when I had to stop at a red light before turning left, I got a chance to take a closer look. There were about 10 people, one waving an American flag, others holding up signs. One of it said: No King. Whenever a car honked, the protesters cheered back. I felt relief that there are people out there sharing my opinion on the world and going the extra length to make it visible out in the open. I read that more and bigger protests were planned for May Day which falls on a Thursday this year and is not a holiday in the US, and I am wondering if it has ever been or never was just out of spite against the “socialists” out there in all the other countries of the world.
Two weeks ago, I happened to visit a place of historic importance. Although I came for the Baroque garden, the layout of the sight made all visitors pass through the palace first and step into each of the many rooms. Along came the room where, at some point in history, Napoleon had spent a night. And then I set foot in a room where on April 14 of 1935, 90 years before my visit almost to the day, the final declaration of the Stresa Conference had been signed. The so-called Stresa Front was an alliance of Italy, France, and the United Kingdom against Nazi-Germany. Mussolini flew himself to the Isola Bella which made for an impressive landing of his plane on the waters of the Lago Maggiore. The other gentlemen (no women involved!) took trains and were then chauffeured over from the harbor of Stresa by motorboat.
It was one of the many failed attempts to keep the Nazis at bay. Of course, while it was happening, nobody knew how long the new alliance would last. While it was happening, people thought it was important to try something, to not stay quiet but rather come together in a civilized manner, remind people of peace treaties and of mutual agreements. Do something good against something evil. I commend them for trying, for putting in the effort. When I finally reached the garden behind the palace, I was surprised to see white peacocks roaming around, their tail feathers bobbing up and down with each step. Every so often they’d do us the favor of showing their wheel in all its splendor. Later I saw them drink from rain water that had collected in a little puddle. They seemed like visitors from a world of lightness and beauty.
We are all in it for the long run. Need to build up our stamina. Keep going, keep feeding ourselves, keep reminding ourselves what this is all about. Can’t live from/for protests alone, and it’s ok to take turns as long as we keep moving and showing up. Complacency will be the end of it.
[ La conférence de Stresa 1935 – French news coverage ]
[ Stresa conference 1935 – British news coverage ]
[ Conferenza di Stresa 1935 – More news coverage ]
California Journal 