I went down to New York on October 10, and the second thing I did was go to Occupy Wall Street.  The drummers were there and those who march to a different drum.  Everything felt homemade: the signs, the temporary shelters, the food (I had a meal for free, though I left a donation for it), the clothes.  A young woman was silk-screening any garment you brought with “Occupy Wall Street” or “I Am the 99%.”  The free offerings reminded me of the Free Store the Diggers set up in the East Village in the Summer of Love (1967), not far from the tenement I then lived in.  There was a free library, too, which included homemade “books” composed of various signs participants had made, these bound together to be saved as part of the record of this movement that has now echoes around the globe and will not stop echoing.  A meditative and gentle vibe hovered over all the proceedings. Some of the signs were angry, some were peace-loving, some were funny “(If You Hire Me I’ll Get Off Your Street.”)  It was a boost, which, after a really bad decade, I needed to continue in the effort to build a just and humane society. Venceremos!

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