It was cloudy. June gloom was in full swing. Lucy was chatty, as was often the case on a weekend morning. Once I began stirring, I was awake. Adrenaline was pumping, I knew it was time to greet the day, it was Opening Night of Termination Fee.
Yesterday, the President ordered in attack on my city of residence, Los Angeles. Yes, it was an attack. No, it was not nor at any point was it a riot. It was a protest and a peaceful one. People were defending their neighbors. The situation was under control, and even the Mayor, and Governor echoed that sentiment. Trump was not satisfied. So, he ordered an attack on Los Angeles. Protesters were attacked, a journalist was hospitalized.
I checked online and saw that ICE was allegedly in Point Fermin. I decided I’d avoid heading that way. I also saw that a beach cleanup was happening at Cabrillo. I try to attend the beach cleanups as often as I can, though sometimes I don’t find out when they’re happening until last minute. I knew with opening night I wasn’t going to be able to participate today, so I grabbed my litter-gitter on the way out the door. I figured, I won’t be able to hangout and clean up for the entire afternoon shift, but I’ll at least grab a few things on my walk. I actually didn’t see the clean up crew when I was there so maybe they were starting a little later then usual. I picked up a few pieces of litter and put it in the nearest trashcan. Was the beach spotless? Of course not. But, there was a little less litter than there was a few minutes ago. Something’s something.
I’m lucky to live in a neighborhood that is relatively safe. There’s a strong sense of community, people look out for one another, people are not looking for trouble, they just want to protect their neighbors.
The other side of that, I live on the edge. Quite literally. San Pedro is the where the harbor of LA is. It’s that little piece of land that sticks out a bit in the map of LA. If you’re looking to go west the only destination is the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes the bad weird finds its way to the edge. You’re not sure if they’re in the neighborhood or just wondered in from somewhere else, but either way, it’s there. Like most places, the darkness of the present day United States has seeped in. There’s a certain anger here that didn’t exist until recently. I travel enough to know such a thing is not exclusive to San Pedro. The other day while walking back from the beach, a guy was flooring it down the street, blowing through stop signs, nearly hitting multiple pedestrians and other cars, greeting anyone they came near with a middle finger. A couple months ago, I accidentally cut a guy off in traffic. Accidental, my fault, I braked and made the folded hands sign for forgiveness. The person then cut me off on purpose, and waved a gun. These are heightened times and most of us usually aren’t our best selves in traffic.
One of the saddest things I’ve seen online in response to what’s happening LA are the people cheering it on and proudly declaring that “this is what we voted for.” Really? You want armed forces to attack your fellow citizens? That’s what you want? You realize that never ends well for anyone, right?
Anyway, all of this was on my mind getting ready for opening night. Part of me even felt guilty. Here I was doing theater while the city’s pretty much under attack. That thought cleared out pretty quickly. I mean, hell, it’s not like I just went to a movie or something, it was opening night of a play that we had been rehearsing for nearly a year. The show had been scheduled for months.
On that, opening night was incredible. Sold Out. Standing Ovation. Thank you so so so so freaking much to everyone who came out. You mean the world to us. It was cathartic, it was a release.
For me, and I hope for everyone else, it was a reminder that we can’t let them take our art, our culture, our community, and most importantly, our neighbors. In times like these, we need to band together and remember that we are all we have.
This country is like Espresso, it’s not meant to have ICE.
