Photo by John Jack Anderson.

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared on the author’s Facebook and at the Occupy Austin website.

Austin, TX-On Thursday, August 9, I took my two children, ages 4 and 7, to an Occupy Austin event called “Chalkupy the World.” Many other cities around the country, and even abroad, participated in this event. I’ve been to a few Occupy events, support the methods and messages of Occupy, and am somewhat active in one of the Occupy groups that does work dealing with the local school district. The Chalkupy event was supposed to be a gathering of people using sidewalk chalk to express, well, anything really, but mostly dissent or disenchantment with the way things in our country have evolved to either favor the ultra-wealthy or punish the poor, middleclass, marginalized, or otherwise “different” people.

I anticipated that this was going to be a small event, and one that would allow me to show my support of the Occupy movement while also letting my children participate, or at least keep them occupied. They like chalk; they like to draw. I wasn’t really expecting police intervention. I’m a responsible mother; I would never knowingly put my children in harm’s way. I thought, particularly in Austin, this event would be reasonably innocuous. But I’m also responsible enough to want to teach my children to participate in the citizenry, to stand up for what they believe in. I can’t say I’m altogether surprised at what happened, which is really a sad comment on our society.

I took my children because I thought it was an appropriate place for children to participate in coming together, in citizens who don’t know each other meeting in person, in public space…in space that is for the public. I think it’s worth mentioning, too, that the day before, I had just read William F. Buckley Jr.’s essay “Why Don’t We Complain?” Writing in 1960, the famous conservative commenter remarked on how much people at the time were willing sit back without remark and endure unreasonable situations. He explains that it’s sometimes complex, that there are often hidden reasons for why some things are the way they are. But his essay challenged me. And on August 9, I was feeling a duty to myself and my country to speak up for things that seem unjust. If I didn’t, who would? How would my children learn to speak out against injustice?

We had picked up two packages of giant-sized sidewalk chalk earlier in the afternoon. They were the biggest chalk sticks I had ever seen, and I found their cartoonish proportions a little humorous. Two sticks in each pack. Two sticks for each child. I knew there would be more chalk waiting at the event, but it’s always good to come prepared. As we drove to the event, I reminded my children they could draw anything they wanted. I want my kids to participate in the public sphere, but I don’t want to be too heavy handed in what messages they feel forced to repeat. They will change their minds about many issues many times as they grow. I don’t think I need to force them to accept any point of view right now. I did tell them, though, that they might want to think for a minute about one thing they thought would help make the world a better place. My younger child thought about rain. My older child mentioned recycling. I told them that would be great, and that they could draw as many pictures as they liked.

When we arrived, there were about 10 Occupiers on the southwest corner of 11th and Congress, just across the street from the Capitol, where Occupiers had been warned not to use chalk. But we were all on public property on this corner. We noted the large box of sidewalk chalk on the bus stop bench. It had many more color options available. So both of the children picked out a couple of colors. My son, my older child, set in on his design. He decided that drawing the earth in a “recycling triangle” would be good. My daughter started drawing butterflies. She’s just recently developed the skill of representation, so her drawings are actually starting to look like something. I wrote a message about how I would be better off financially had I never decided to pursue graduate studies.

This is true, by the way. I would have been earning a middle class income from the time I graduated college in 1997 through today. I wouldn’t have any debt. In fact, in my one year working in a corporate office after I earned my bachelor degree, I saved over $7000 dollars. I’m pretty thrifty with money. I would not have had to take out student loans (all subsidized), and I wouldn’t have had to live on the approximately $800 monthly most graduate assistants make. Of course, I would not have become more educated about history, philosophy, justice, and education. It makes a difference in your perspective. It’s important to remember that education is not a commodity. I don’t owe money for student loans because I wanted a boat or an expensive purse. I owe money because I wanted to be an educated citizen. I thought that was a responsible decision. I’m still waiting for someone to tell me it would have been more responsible to keep my office job and keep my mouth shut.

The adults had already noticed the group of state troopers gathering across the street in front of the Capitol. Apparently, one was also hiding in a car across Congress. Whatever the case or the number of eyes, four troopers crossed 11th Street over to our corner. They promptly arrested two adults who had been chalking. One of the arrested chalkupiers was wearing a mask covering his face. When my children and I first arrived, they asked about the mask. I simply explained that some people like to be private. They accepted this answer without further inquiry. Indeed, children are often at ease when their parents or role models help make sense of the world for them and are honest with them about what they see. That’s not always a very easy task. Taking a moment to consider one’s response and how it will potentially frame the world for children does take a little more effort at times, but I’d rather not go around dividing the world up into “people like us” and “people not like us” for my children. I imagine there are parents who would have explained that the young man with a mask was just weird, wanted attention, thought highly of himself, whatever excuse they could use to make sure that their children understood that he was “different” and that “we” don’t act like that.

When the troopers came to our chalking area, my children were frightened. My son began to cry. He’s pretty sensitive, but very logical. My daughter feigned crying to be like her big brother. She’s big on drama and intensity. She has asked me to recount the story of the time I stepped on a nail when I was 12 years old a thousand times, but she’s not given to crying, unless someone else has tried to pick out her outfit for the day. Without any warning, the troopers arrested two chalkupiers. I approached one of the arresting officers and politely asked if he could help me understand why two people were being arrested. He deferred to the other who explained that chalking public property was considered criminal mischief. I asked if it was explicit in the penal code, if the code was specific in naming the use chalk on public property as criminal mischief. He explained that no, but it could be considered such.

Let us remember, too, that a number of courts have upheld citizens’ use of chalk as a form of expression. The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals wrote, “No reasonable person could think that writing with chalk could damage a sidewalk.” (Mackinney v. Nielsen 69 F.3d 1002, 1995). To make this absolutely clear, in our country, we have freedom of speech to protect unpopular speech. This does not, however, protect use of dangerous or slanderous speech. We all know that we may not use words to threaten another or incite violence. That kind of speech is not protected. Similarly, had there been threatening messages or even obscene drawings, that use of chalk might reasonably be considered mischievous. But there were no such messages or drawings, only messages of dissent and drawings of the earth and butterflies.

After the troopers took the arrestees across the street, I calmly gathered my children and started toward the car. I certainly did not want to keep them in a place where they might be subject to violence or see their mother arrested for chalking. They were both teary. We walked for a minute. Then, I literally asked my children to stop for a moment while I thought. As a parent, you really have to do this sometimes. Sometimes, you have to stop and figure out what is best. If we left at that moment, what lesson were they going to learn? What meaning would they make of what just happened? Of course we were going to be discussing this at length; that goes without saying. But what would they take away from this event if, having told them it was not right for the police to arrest those two people, I simply walked away, too. I knew, already, I wasn’t going to go back to the chalking corner. So I simply turned around, crossed 11th Street to the Capitol, and I told my children I wanted to talk to the troopers, to see if I could understand what was going on.

Now, I’m an adult who (not that it’s anybody’s business) has never been arrested. And that might even be a damning statement against me, depending on who you’re asking. Because, without doubt, there is injustice in our country. We have one of the highest rates of childhood poverty in the “developed” world; we have the least amount of access to health care in the “developed” world; we don’t let consenting adults of the same sex enjoy basic civil liberties; we allow bankers who stole millions of dollars to continue their practices without so much as an investigation. These are surely injustices. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful we live in a country where women are allowed to obtain an education; I am thankful our country attempts to educate every child, whether poor or rich; I am thankful for many things. But that does not absolve me from my duty to make this country better for the vast majority of people. What I’m stalling in admitting here is that talking to police makes me nervous. Which is a shame. At any rate, I had an example to set for my children. Children should learn to speak respectfully to officers of the law; they should be willing to approach one if it seems that something wrong has happened. And as a mother, I honestly did not want to walk away from this with children frightened of a police officer who might be trying to help them if they were lost or if there were an emergency such as a fire.

The three of us walked up to two troopers standing in front of one of the gates in front of the Capitol. Honestly not knowing protocol, I extended my hand to the trooper closest to me and said, “Hi, I’m Hillary Procknow.” Her arms remained around her chest. I fumblingly said, “Oh, I guess you’re not allowed to do that.” I explained to her very politely that I did not understand why two people had been arrested and that I was indeed concerned because my children were now afraid of police. “What,” I asked, “can you help me understand to explain to my children that they do not need to be afraid of the police.” She repeated what the other officer had said about chalk and criminal mischief. I reminded her that chalk is not explicitly mentioned as mischief. She said that just like free speech, if a citizen is offended by what someone says (or chalks) an officer can tell the person to stop or arrest them. No trooper had explained that a citizen had complained. I replied, “I’m offended by what a lot of people say, but that doesn’t mean I want them to be arrested.” In any case, when I pressed her about what I should tell my children about their fear of police, she recommended that I go home and have a discussion about how it’s wrong to damage public property, and that it was going to take tax payer money to remove the chalk. I offered to go home and get rags and buckets. She said it wouldn’t make a difference. Of course, we did go home and have a discussion. I did tell my children not to be afraid of police. (We are not people of color, so it’s a lot easier for me to say this to my children than it is for others. If we had dark skin, this particular issue would have been much more complex. And that conversation will come, too.) But, I also told them that our country is not perfect. Just like at home, we all have to pitch in.

Many people wonder, I’m sure, what chalking a sidewalk does to make this country better. I want to be clear on this. People coming together, in public, to express themselves is something that makes the country better. I don’t mean this to apply to any particular political persuasion (and, in fact, Occupy has a firm stance on its resistance to embrace any particular party). When people meet each other, disagree, agree, argue with civility, see each other’s faces, learn to be in a public space and tolerate the presence of others, important things happen, and not necessarily or even mostly sweeping political change. The country learns what it looks like when people participate, when people recognize each other as human. The country learns what it looks like when people decide for themselves to think beyond political platforms and party lines, and come together to imagine new possibilities that simply are not available on a ballot coming to you in November.

Jane Addams, one of the great educators in our country’s history, who fought for the rights of poor and women, for sanitary conditions for immigrants all over Chicago, had some reservation about women’s suffrage, which she did fight for. Why? Because she knew in the 1910s what we have witnessed over the past 100 years: when people have the right to vote, it’s all too easy to dismiss the other important civic obligations they have. Did I vote this season? Yes? Check. Done with my responsibilities. When you feel your obligations are limited to a multiple choice form once or twice a year (if you’re a very conscientious voter), you have failed to understand every other obligation to your country, your fellow citizens, your neighborhood, your local public school, the poor, the sick, the marginalized. Being in public and expressing in public are ways to make this country better. Not the only ways, certainly. If I should have known better than to bring children to a public display of dissent, then I truly hope people will come out in public and make the public a safe place for all of us to be.

The two arrested Occupiers were charged with Class C misdemeanors. Apparently the charges may be increased to Class B. Class B misdemeanor charges result when the damage done costs between $50 and $500 to remedy. The cost of erasing dissent, in this case of erasing chalk from a public sidewalk, will cost tax payers less than $500. The cost of erasing dissent, by making the country’s citizens fearful of participating in a robust public sphere, by making them fearful of coming together, by making its children afraid to be with others and afraid of the police, will be paid for generations to come.

Epilogue

It rained the next day.

-Hillary Procknow, PhD-

Editor’s note: This is the thirteenth in a series of excerpts from Jim Gober’s book titled “Deep in the Heart of Occupy Austin.” A new excerpt will be published at OccupiedStories.com every Wednesday, so come back next week to follow Jim though the evolution of Occupy Austin. The final installment will be April 25th.

Today was Friday October 29, 2011, the day we found out APD Chief Art Acevedo is just another slime-ball, like the rest of the fascist ilk. His slick speech on Thursday night about how he supports us, blah, blah, blah, was met today with what was basically an eviction notice. He came around and personally passed out the fliers himself, with a big smile plastered on his thick skull, of course. There were so many rules, they would be impossible to follow. For example, everything has to be moved once a day, such as the food table, so it is not a “permanent” structure, and any sign not being held when they show up to fuck with us will be confiscated and tossed. Then the power washes will resume three times a week which means the freezing cold plaza will be soaked with water between 3am and 5am, and don’t think you can evacuate to the Island across the street, because the park curfew is now enforced there after 10pm.

Then there were enough other rules to keep the GA meeting arguing until late in the night, with some vowing to do nothing but stay there and Occupy-which is unfortunately not a radical idea, but creates the danger we may lose our core supporters. It’s funny that no matter how hard I rack my brain, I don’t remember one Tea Party protester ever being evicted from anything, even the town hall meetings when they did nothing but disrupt the entire meeting while a Democratic senator was trying to speak about delivering affordable healthcare to everyone. But look how many OWS protesters have already been forcibly removed from every meeting, park, plaza or “town hall” for just standing up to complain about their desperate plight, which is real and not manufactured by the propaganda machine. The police brutality forced on the innocent people who can see through the fascist lies is unspeakable.

I was beginning to feel our little sideshow may be about over, and may be over in much of the country. What is amazing is how Acevedo managed to move us along. It never occurred to some of us (including me), that have never experienced the psychological part of crowd control, only brazen force, exactly how it was going to be used against us. But this was a typical fascist technique we should have recognized: smile while you fuck ‘em over good. Now we have a choice: to physically engage them, which will last for about 5 minutes before we get beaten and gassed and handed a police record the fascists can use to forever lock us out of the plaza and society, or we can get worn down by constantly moving our shit around, to appease King God Acevedo, until we finally get fed up and leave on our own.

Meanwhile, as the fascists are having us move things about, the billionaire Koch brothers will spend billions to defeat Obama, and once that’s done they will install a fascist dictator into our government, which we are only a presidential election away from having. This news comes as dirty tricks by the GOP will prevent 25% of African-Americans from voting in the next election, and the fascist money flooding to the corporate media will brain-wash us into believing that having our throats cut by big business is good for us. Do you really think the corporate media, from Rockefeller Center to Main Street USA, that stands to make millions from the corporate “citizens” in the upcoming election cycle, will be on our side? Hell, no.

All of this news about a bunch of rules that amount to nothing more than hastening the demise of the Austin occupy camp follows on the heels of more arrests in Nashville, where the camps are being cleaned out, and the order in New York for the protesters to give up their generators and gasoline, which provide power and heat. So the camps, which just yesterday thought they were getting a reprieve, and also thought the fascists were backing up because they had hearts, are today getting demolished. For some reason, this passive-aggressive tactic is even more demoralizing than outright confrontation, and causes the protesters to seethe with anger even more than if we had our day in the ring with these jerks. Today, in America, niceness is a weakness and is there to be plundered, and now we felt like we were hogtied and about to be raped.

In reality, the camps could not last forever, and as I said before, to be seen is to be heard in America, so they had to be cleaned up. The fascist state cannot tolerate anyone making a complaint or wandering around homeless and upset because they’ve been picked clean by our system. But true to what a grass roots movement is, the anger is stronger and will only grow. Cut us off at the top and the roots just get deeper. This is real grass roots, not the astroturf of the Tea Party. I believe the camps should be allowed to remain and dissolve on a consensus vote by the occupiers, which is coming anyway, because most of the people involved in the camps have little or no real-life management skills. I had to laugh last night when I heard one of the young protesters say the reason the number of protesters was thinning out was, “people were afraid to come and learn from our young minds.”

The idea that a certain group of people with no experience and little education are in control, or are “smarter” than everyone else, has a corrosive effect on America, and I presume will destroy the occupy movement. For example, older workers, which these days includes anyone over 50, are now pushed out of society to fend on their own. They are considered too dumb for even the most basic work, even when they have years of experience doing it or advanced college degrees. Half of the problem has to do with the healthcare expense burden older workers place on American companies, while the other half has to do with a marketing machine that convinces everyone in a society that dumb is smart and anyone who questions anything is an idiot. It reminds me of the dumb kids who bully the smart kids at school because they make the lazy dumb kids look bad. It also reminds me of how every progressive idea in America is piled on by the fascist press until it disappears under a pile of right-wing bullshit. Americans must stay dumb. The carousel of stupidity must continue to spin, so the fascists riding on it can wear their pretty bonnets and waive at the poor folks, who fought tooth and nail to get a ticket so they could ride along and pretend they were rich too, but for some reason, the carousel never stops to let them on. Really smart people don’t dump their money on dumb products or believe hollow slogans which mean nothing. But it is America’s innate ability to follow the slogan that is causing us to follow the fascist ideal as well. This is an ideal where we harshly judge each other and get apoplectic because someone isn’t going along with what the voice on the latest electronic gizmo tells us to do. Like lemmings, every living generation in America is now rushing to see who can jump off the cliff first simply because we can’t think for ourselves.

But to be fair, the Occupy movement has generally been inclusive of everyone, including the older folks, but you could see from last night’s meeting the youngsters were in charge, and were making it known they’ve successfully pushed out many of the older people who made the process work until now. Maybe it’s because, like the young man believed, the old people are afraid of learning things from all those “young minds.” But in reality, too many of those young minds at the plaza are not in control of anything due to an absolute inability to get anything done besides spout off a lot about a system in which they don’t have a voice or real knowledge. Add the cold weather and even the true protesters, who braved the cold the night before, had left much of it to the “brains” of the outfit that weren’t coming up with any solutions, were splitting into cliques, and were also getting bogged down in the new rules set out by the police.

Once Friday evening rolled around and the deadline of 10 pm to move or rearrange our belongings neared, I noticed many of the original protesters had magically reappeared to lend their support. But I worried too, because these were our leaders and a raid followed by arrests would permanently remove them from the camp. They should have stayed home. The clouds of doom were gathering on the horizon, and you could see the mighty ship we worked so hard to build listing frightfully in the cruel waters of history. Still, there were some incredible, passionate rallying speeches, including a beautiful one by my young friend Kendall, who had soaked up the philosophy of the movement like a sponge, and of whom I was so proud. Hopefully, he will go on to college in order to flourish in this world, even though it will mean taking on massive amounts of debt that will put him way behind his peers, most of who will become cogs in the wheels of the fascist machine. But Kendall, if he holds true to his values and keeps an open mind, has great things ahead.

I started thinking that this is the time we need to think about digging deeper into the movement instead of simply occupying. It is time to join the different groups and become involved in not only the Occupy community, in which I still strongly believe, but the community at large. As of today, the occupation brand of civil disobedience is pushing us further to the fringe where we can be ignored or taunted. Just today, a man about 30 years old stomped up to the steps of the plaza and demanded everyone take this crap off his city’s property. Then he stormed off. This man is the type who would stand by while our skin was being stripped off by a pair of pliers. One would hope people like that don’t outnumber us, but they do in the media and other places where money makes the rules. So we must work against the fascists on the national stage, on their turf, with intellectual arguments, which they will never have on their side. Something tells me we will never accomplish anything by wandering aimlessly around a makeshift camp hoping for the world to change.

But believe me when I say there are heroes in the local movement that existed on that plaza-especially the women, like Jamie, who leads the night marches every night at 9:30 and is constantly coming up with ideas to get more people to the plaza. I can still hear her chant and never again will I hear a call to action that carried more conviction and came from deeper in the soul than when Jamie shouted, “This is what democracy looks like,” over and over until she lost her voice. And other women, like Michelle, who worked the welcome desk all day, then was disheartened to see the food line of hungry homeless form faster than she could get across the plaza to get a slice of cold pizza. People like Michelle and Jamie and a host of others did without a lot to keep the scene together. And to all those folks, I am deeply indebted. But when our main focus becomes dancing around a bunch of rules made up by disgusted fascist suits-rules designed specifically to trample on our right to peacefully assemble-one has to question: What the fuck are we doing? Oddly many people in our society want to see us hurt, even though we are fighting for them. I suppose mean is ingrained in our culture and has been since the days when the Puritans believed that if you were sick or poor, it was your punishment from God, and you did not deserve help. And if you didn’t fit into their rigid view of society, which changed depending on who was in charge, you were burned alive at the delight of the others. Sound familiar?

The Occupy movement has changed me as a person. I am enlightened, tolerant and genuinely love the people I’ve met, who enjoyed exchanging ideas with me. For the first time in years, I had conversations with people who had open minds and not minds moldy from age or slammed shut years ago because of some prejudice or another they are not even aware they have. I enjoyed talking to people interested in what I had to say, and also being interested in what they had to say. We let our ideas soak in and not just roll off all the layers of preconceived notions. The Occupy movement is and will continually be fun and interesting, but to be effective we must change our tactics. That is what political movements are about, and like it or not, this is a political movement.

Today, I brought a sleeping bag donated by my neighbor to the plaza and gave it to Buck, a middle-aged African American man who has become my friend, although he occasionally asks me if I am going to kill him, which I assure him I’m not. Why would I waste my tobacco and a perfectly good sleeping bag on somebody I was going to kill? His troubling questions aside, he was still very appreciative. He has nothing except the clothes on his back and gets cold and lonely at night, just like everyone else. Just like you. But tonight, there was no room for comfort. You could hear the rot-infested fascist tide on the march. Soon they would arrive to throw us into the streets in a desperate attempt to separate us from our right to free speech and assembly.

I thought no matter what happens tonight or tomorrow, I’ll be attending every organized march until I can no longer walk or crawl. And I will continue to put my energy, money and time into this cause, which has risen haphazardly without the use of millions of dollars of dirty money from the propagandists such as Fox News, the Koch brothers or Dick Armey’s Freedomworks. We are the people, and the Occupy movement will continue. Who knows how long the plaza will be occupied? But I’m afraid the camp and accompanying sideshow is drawing to a close, because we cannot waste our time and energy sitting in one place surrounded by the police. It is time to bring the fight underground, where we can work and think without trying to survive the elements or having some drug addled or mentally ill individual screaming about someone stealing their whatever.

Once the end comes, it will be up to all of us: the older and educated people with experience, who can put a professional face on this movement and begin to work through the established power structure, as well as the young idealists who have the energy and optimism essential to any political movement. But there has to be some guidance and organization. I have seen so many young people in this movement try to reinvent the wheel, unaware the US has a system to be heard, albeit confusing and complicated. And while it doesn’t cost money to break windows, it costs a lot of money to change opinion through a structure that, like it or not, includes working with the corporate press and reaching a wide audience with sane arguments instead of haphazardly planned events that only illustrate how angry people have become. Everyone in America knows what is going on now and everyone is pissed. We need to channel that anger into reform. So we have to raise money. That is how America works. At this point the occupy movement reminds me of someone sitting on the roof of a car instead of the driver’s seat and getting upset because the car isn’t taking them anywhere.

As I walk through the plaza tonight, I know this movement, which came into the world kicking and screaming like a child born in the darkest part of the forest, will grow up and walk into the sunlight and become a powerful force that will conquer the fascist demons that have pillaged the countryside. But to make it work, we must roll up our sleeves and stop sitting around the plaza waiting for food to arrive without even taking the trouble to hold up a homemade, worn out and illegible protest sign. And it is disgusting to see everyone grovel at the feet of the fascist police so they won’t run us off, which they eventually will do anyway.

At this point, the movement on its surface seems to be faltering because many in the US like to see people in pain, especially when the power structure those people dared to challenge crushes them. This allows the coward to say, “See, I told you so.” But oddly, while Americans look at pain and torture as a source of satisfying entertainment, they sit in their homes scared to death they will be the next victim. I’m sure there is a psychological term for that, but it escapes me-oh yeah, fear manufactured by the fascist corporate media. It keeps you in the house watching the TV so you’ll watch more commercials and buy more crap. That’s how a cult, religion and even a controlling spouse works to control you. They keep you afraid so you won’t leave the fold. The bogeyman, or devil, is waiting just around the dark corner. The sheep will always fall in line once the big scary sheep dog starts nipping at their haunches.

One thing I’ve been amazed at is the number of people who laugh at, criticize and taunt the homeless and sick in our country. And I’ve seen it all now. But I have also seen the light, and I am not going back. I am a warrior for what is right and what will be right for our democracy. My personal and spiritual growth experienced through the movement is amazing and life-affirming. I was dead inside and now I am alive again. I love everyone I’ve met and I know together we will make a change, but now we need to move to a bigger battlefield that is not surrounded by the slimy police, and away from people who occupy the camps that do things like vandalize city property or steal from each other. And for the young people involved in the movement who are hanging around the plaza and the occupy movements throughout the land and not doing anything: Read some damned books.

Whose street? Our street! Remember that? The plaza was our boot camp. We must follow our hearts and tell people every day to do their part to stop the fascists from rolling over us. There is no second act-this is it. Move your money to a credit union, shop locally, support local farmers, and don’t buy anything made in China. Look who is behind all the propaganda you hear. America is in no danger of becoming a socialist or communist state like the propagandists want you to believe. But we are in danger of becoming a totalitarian fascist state run by billionaires-and we are on the edge. That, you can believe. Let’s all work for the better of each other and this country and stop trying to strip others of dignity and then laughing when we do. Do you want to continue to be that country? Do you? If that is the case, may God have mercy on us all.

-Jim Gober-

Editor’s note: This is the ninth in a series of excerpts from Jim Gober’s book titled “Deep in the Heart of Occupy Austin.” A new excerpt will be published at OccupiedStories.com every Wednesday, so come back next week to follow Jim though the evolution of Occupy Austin.

Today was Monday, and I hit the plaza early and refreshed. As I passed the literature table, I met a middle-aged gentleman named James. He gave me a paper that announced a meeting before the city council on Wednesday. The meeting was about removing fluoride from the city water supply. He explained that fluoride accumulates in the pineal gland located between the lobes of the brain. Once there, it makes people complacent so they cannot think for themselves or form their own thoughts, especially when it comes to standing up to authorities or taking action. He claimed fluoride in the water dulls the thoughts and emotional processes. He said now that people are drinking more water without fluoride, people are starting to wake up. He struggled with the claim, and I told him I would look it up to get more information.

It turns out the pineal gland regulates the hormone melatonin, which is responsible for sleep and affects the aging process. Some studies show fluoride accumulates in the pineal gland, interferes with melatonin production, and accelerates aging. For example, it is widely claimed that the reason girls are entering puberty at such a young age these days is because of the accumulation of fluoride in the pineal gland. I couldn’t find much about fluoride making us more complacent, but if it prevents the formation of melatonin, which is the hormone that makes us sleep, and if we are tired all the time, maybe James is on to something. When I don’t sleep, the last thing I want to do is complain about anything except how tired I am.

After chatting with James, I stopped to talk to Sergio, whose socialist worker pin and pair of chopsticks poked in the side of his cap above his left ear caught my eye. I asked him if he was a Socialist, and he said he belonged to the Former Maoist International Movement. I asked why it was called the former movement and he said it was defunct, and he’s only met one other member who may be dead by now. Sergio said that he upholds the Cultural Revolution that occurred in China in the 60′s as how far society has progressed, and that society has not progressed at all since then. He said Chairman Mao did good things like bringing China together and giving women equal rights. He had a different spin on the “Free Tibet” movement. He claimed that women and children are slaves to the Monk’s patriarchal hierarchy and should thank Mao for liberating them, so Tibet should stay as it is, under China’s rule. He said just because a bunch of monks are running a country doesn’t mean they are good. Monk doesn’t mean good any more than the Taliban means good. I asked Sergio if the Cultural Revolution was hard on shopkeepers and businessmen and he said it was mostly hard on landowners and landlords. I asked if he would recommend a cultural revolution in the US. He says it’s inevitable due to the way resources are manipulated. But the time is not now for armed revolt because we would get crushed. He went on to say, “The white radicals from the 60′s and 70′s have faded away and now this is the time for young people to find their voice.” After doing a lot of research on the subjects we covered, I’m not so sure Sergio had all his facts straight, but he was nice enough to talk to me, and although it wasn’t like spotting Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster, he was the last remaining member of the Former Maoist International Movement.

After I shook Sergio’s hand and began wandering about, I saw a couple of older women digging through the sign tent, where the used signs are stored. One pulled out a sign that said “Eat the Rich,” and the other decided on a tattered sign that said “Occupy with Unconditional Love.” They were headed for the honk if yer horny line, so I ran to catch up with them. We chatted for a moment in the shade of a live oak tree that arched over the edge of the plaza. Their names were Joyce and Jane. Jane was 72 and Joyce was 78 1/2. They told me they drove all the way from Bartlett, which is way out in the country about an hour north of Austin. Jane said she came to the protest before, because she believes everyone should have a chance to share in the wealth. She said they are going through rough times because of the drought as she has a farm and Joyce lives on a ranch. But they know many folks are having a tougher time of it right now, so they formed a non-profit organization called, “Food for Friends,” to help out. They started feeding just a handful of folks in their little area last year and now they feed over 120 people. They get donations by word of mouth. Jane said everything in our economy is lopsided and she is for occupying everywhere. She said the previous weekend she was in San Antonio to support Occupy San Antonio and Indigenous Day, which she hopes one day will replace Columbus Day. She says we are all suffering needlessly and all the money going to corporations for war and bailouts has prevented any positive social change.

Joyce said 2 1/2 years ago, she and another friend, who is 87, went out into the countryside and were shocked at what is happening to people who spent their entire lives taking care of others or working in the fields. These people have little or no savings because they were paid in cash for 50 years or more. Minimum wage was non-existent when they were young. Joyce said the number of homes she and her friend visited with no electricity or running water was appalling. This is less than 100 miles from Austin, by the way, not in a third world country. She said, “These poor people were already mired in poverty but were getting by with help of extended family members until the economy went south, and now they are in dire straits.” So Joyce and Jane cook from scratch and deliver over 100 meals every Friday. They also deliver to Vietnam vets who have a whole other set of problems, including mental illness. Some of the vets haven’t signed anything since they were drafted, and have a deep mistrust for the government and anyone else for that matter. But the problem is not they refuse to get help, it’s the help they need is not there for them even if they wanted it.

One day, a man who has a business in Central Texas heard about Jane and Joyce and came by asking if he could help cook and deliver. About a week later he called Joyce and told her he would build her a brand new kitchen, which he did. She said, “I am very thankful for that, but it does not stop the injustice I see every day. When David Dewhurst gets on the TV and says Texas has the finest healthcare system, I say go to Salt Lake, the little section of town I serve, and take a look if you want to see Texas’ fine healthcare system at work.” Jane and Joyce also offer clothes, toothpaste and other things folks need. The recipients don’t have to sign anything and there are no questions asked. In fact, Joyce said, “If somebody is an alcoholic or on dope, we don’t care-they need a meal just like everyone else.”

Joyce had ankle supports on both her ankles and the two women helped each other over the limestone rocks by the sidewalk, that are difficult for even a young man to navigate, and stood in the honk if yer horny line for the next two hours until someone gave them a chair, and they remained for another two hours or more. These two women spend all week working for the poor and still have time to come out and make their voice known and show the world and our country that we must change to survive. They also believe we can no longer give all our resources to gamblers and thieves who are giving us the finger and laughing at us right now with the help of people so cruel, you can’t believe they are Americans. And right now, many of those people are trolling the Occupy Facebook pages and websites or driving by our protests just to call us names, mock us and waste our time. But Joyce and Jane hold on and help where they can despite being mocked, harassed and degraded by the right-wing fascist filth.

-Jim Gober-

TYLER, TX - We’ve been meeting in Tyler, in different locations around the city, since October 15th. Most of our events have been at busy intersections around the city, where we shout out to our community about corruption in government and corporations and money driving policy in this county.

We’ve met every Saturday, since October 15th, with the exception of November 26th, when a few of us met with Occupy Dallas, in Dallas Texas.

Saturday night, 12/3/11, some of us met at Hastings on Broadway to heckle Glen Beck, after having our normal Saturday morning meetup. He was in town visiting for a book signing. Wow, was that ever exciting! The followers of Beck, were very upset, but talked to us, filmed and took pictures of and with us!

Yesterday, 12/10, we met at Holiday in the Park, at Bergfield Park. Wow! It was lively and festive, with tons of people there! We set up our ‘booth’ and educated curious passersby with a layout of posters illuminating some of the truths about our economy and incomes, that the medias failure to report adequately. As well we had handouts for those who wanted to study more.

As of yet, we have no official committees, about 50 people showed up to our first event, some 8 to 20 of us at the events thereafter.

We don’t have official GA’s per se, we have lunch together after each event for discussion and planning. There are 7 to 8 of us diehards who show up each week and a few stragglers here and there, including some local Code Pink members!

-I am Nannette Thornton Rainer on Facebook. I belong to Occupy Tyler, in Tyler, Texas. We have an Occupy Tyler Group and we also have an Occupy Tyler Community Page on Facebook-