Dear Reader, John Fortier is a Korean War
veteran, a retired school teacher and a husband of 54 years and a father,
grandfather and great-grandfather. He is also a peace activist who has held a
peace vigil nearly every Friday on a busy Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) street
corner in Redondo Beach, CA since just before President George W. Bush launched
the Iraq War and occupation in March, 2003.
He has held several hundred peace vigils, including those he holds on special U.S. holidays as well, such as U.S. Independence Day (July 4th), Veteran's Day and on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, each meant to appeal to peoples' consciences to stop the U.S.'s wars. For John knows first hand how ugly and destructive war really is.
In today's piece, he refers to a "V" and by that he means a two fingered peace sign. Late in the piece, he refers to "KH," which is a street called Knob Hill. While I was with John, two 15 ish age girls rode their bikes next to John's peace vigil, and stopped at a red light waiting to cross PCH.
On the back of one of the bikes, the young lady had a peace symbol painted on next to her name. When we asked these two cute young girls whether they knew anything about the U.S. wars, as many young Americans would reply, both said no. John smiled, briefly explained the peace symbol and gave both girls poker chip size pieces with peace symbols that he had created. John made his point with warmth, everyone smiled and the girls left with a nice reminder of the discussion in the form of those poker chip peace symbols.
Well, Dick, this evening was very rewarding, as good as any I can remember. It had been really good while you were there, and at 4:35, less than five minutes after you had to leave, a nice curious little thing took place that started an interesting and busy series of events.
A big raggedy old scavenger truck - 'scrap metal pick-up free' - stopped right in front of me on Knob Hill to make a right on PCH. The passenger studied my sign and me a while, got a slight smile, said something to the driver, and then gave me a nice big smile. So I gave him energetic Vs with both hands and said loudly, "PAZ, PAZ', for which I got the V sign, more radiant smile, and, "PAZ PEACE, PAZ PEACE" as they turned the corner, south on PCH. Maybe it wasn't an impressive exchange by some standards but, to me, it was profound.
He has held several hundred peace vigils, including those he holds on special U.S. holidays as well, such as U.S. Independence Day (July 4th), Veteran's Day and on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, each meant to appeal to peoples' consciences to stop the U.S.'s wars. For John knows first hand how ugly and destructive war really is.
In today's piece, he refers to a "V" and by that he means a two fingered peace sign. Late in the piece, he refers to "KH," which is a street called Knob Hill. While I was with John, two 15 ish age girls rode their bikes next to John's peace vigil, and stopped at a red light waiting to cross PCH.
On the back of one of the bikes, the young lady had a peace symbol painted on next to her name. When we asked these two cute young girls whether they knew anything about the U.S. wars, as many young Americans would reply, both said no. John smiled, briefly explained the peace symbol and gave both girls poker chip size pieces with peace symbols that he had created. John made his point with warmth, everyone smiled and the girls left with a nice reminder of the discussion in the form of those poker chip peace symbols.
Well, Dick, this evening was very rewarding, as good as any I can remember. It had been really good while you were there, and at 4:35, less than five minutes after you had to leave, a nice curious little thing took place that started an interesting and busy series of events.
A big raggedy old scavenger truck - 'scrap metal pick-up free' - stopped right in front of me on Knob Hill to make a right on PCH. The passenger studied my sign and me a while, got a slight smile, said something to the driver, and then gave me a nice big smile. So I gave him energetic Vs with both hands and said loudly, "PAZ, PAZ', for which I got the V sign, more radiant smile, and, "PAZ PEACE, PAZ PEACE" as they turned the corner, south on PCH. Maybe it wasn't an impressive exchange by some standards but, to me, it was profound.
About
fifteen minutes later a shiny little red car whipped around that same corner,
and I got a nice wave and smile from the driver while the elegant lady passenger
kept her eyes on the road. Thanks for the wave, Dick.
What
happened next had nothing to do with me or PEACE, but it will infuriate our
mutual friend, Grant, the bicycle helmet champion (fanatic). Two young girls,12
or 13ish, approached PCH on KH, and one wondered aloud 'if he was alright ?' I
looked kitty-cornered and saw a guy flat out, face down and motionless on the
sidewalk handicapped ramp, his head facing PCH and his bicycle half on top of
him.
Some
people had noticed and reacted before I even noticed, had their phones out and
were making calls. A couple of people were heading toward him from the Subway
sandwich shop parking lot, so I stayed 'at my post' and watched a really funny
show.
The
guy got up awkwardly, clumsily; he was tall, thinny, and had long rasta locks
down to his waist. Once he gets under control and steadied up, he starts picking
things up from the sidewalk and putting them in a little box or basket on the
handlebars. This is where it starts reminding me of the clowns in the little
clown car in the circus.
His
plan seems to have been to anchor one end of the long things at the handlebars
and lay them back off the rear of the bike. I think they may have been fishing
rods - long, about the same 5 foot lengths, and enough to make six or seven 10
foot poles. (Or one damned long one.) I saw him drop all or some and recover
them and drop some or all again - four or five times, before a lady pedestrian
stopped and engaged me in conversation.
My
focus switched to the lady, and what happened with rasta man and his hoard of
sticks, I'll never know. I wonder about that, and I also wonder about the
several cell phone calls that were made. No emergency rescue, meter maid,
paramedic. lifeguards or police ever showed up.
The
next comment I'm making here is a trifle tricky. It could get a guy in trouble,
and I would sure be sorry if it did. But the driver(s) of the China Coast
restaurant delivery vehicle honks, waves and smiles each times he goes by me on
the corner. I wish he would see this and know that he is noticed and
appreciated. I also hope his boss, if he were to see it, is a kindred
spirit.
Shortly
after rasta man disappeared with his fishing pole or pool cue collection, a
youngster about 16 or 17 came by and gave me a 'polite' smile, then turned his
back to me and waited to cross KH. I asked his back what he thought of the war
issue, and I got way more than I ever expected. He didn't think wars were a good
way to settle disputes; he thought people should think more about similarities
between themselves and their enemies than their differences; and that the
vanquished always resent and hate the victor.
WOW.
I haven't had many adults express so much, so well, so succinctly. Either the
kid had been practicing that for a part in a play or he was the slickest
spontaneous speaker I've run into in a long long time.
(to
be continued) - if that's acceptable. My
sister being here and grandchildren in plays, etc. are gulping down the
time.
It
was such a bitching day, I really don't recall one better.
Stay cool ~
John
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