So there we were after the basketball game on Saturday: Just blocks from the state capitol on a beautiful sunny afternoon. Seemed the perfect opportunity for a walk down State Street. Greg and I looked at each other, and we both knew immediately we wanted to go check out the capitol.
And why not? We've embraced cheese curds, the Packers, super short ski runs, Big Ten athletics, and snow pants. I've even walked on a frozen lake. By choice. Why wouldn't we adopt that quintessential Madisonian past time and take up protesting?
Relax. This isn't a political post. We were merely curious spectators with an hour or two to kill on a lovely afternoon (and with children whose walking muscles could use some strengthening). I won't even tell you which side of the capitol we were on--the east with the handful of Tea Party members or with everybody else.
Here was our walk down State Street.
David was quick to note that the people with signs were on their way to "help say no to the rule the teachers don't like." (In the face of a complicated issue, I think it's only natural, and sweet, for a five-year-old to feel protective of his kindergarten teacher.)
The steps of the capitol were crowded. It was calm and festive and serious all at the same time. In the picture below, you can see the sign (on the left) of one brave soul who planted himself on the unsympathetic side of the capitol. (Oops. I just gave away where we were.) I had to give him points for not preaching to the choir--but he lost twice that many points for explaining that his reasons for passing the bill had something to do with Jesus.
In the above picture, if you look to the very left, you can just barely see David on Greg's shoulders with Mary's little face underneath David's shoe.
Our kids were happy to be there. (Partly, because we didn't stay long.)
Their suburban legs couldn't carry them all the way back to the car though. So David rode on Greg's shoulders, and Mary rode on mine.
The best part was Mary's determination to get INSIDE the capitol building. She doggedly pushed her way through the crowd on those steps until we yanked her back. She pleaded to be taken inside. I'm not sure why . . . happy memories of the building? Is she a political activist at heart? Or, most likely, did she harbor an irrational belief that the building contains chocolate donuts?
Whatever the reason, there was no way we were pressing inside. Here is a picture of the inside. Incidentally, on Friday while Greg was meeting with his adviser in her office, she received a phone call from the county emergency management office. They wanted to know how many people could stand on the terrace inside the capitol before it collapses. Like I said, there was no way we were going inside, no matter how forceful my little girl can be.
So we walked back to the car. And that was that.
I have lots of little quips (about both sides) in my head. But tensions are high, and people are very earnest. So it doesn't feel entirely appropriate to take a quippy tone, especially given the fact that I'm essentially an outsider.
But I think poking our heads in for a few minutes at a good old-fashioned Mad City protest puts a couple little drops of true Wisconsinite blood in our veins. That and the snow pants.
