by John Pixley

I didn’t go to the No Kings protest last month. Not because I didn’t care. Not because I didn’t agree with the protesters.

It wasn’t because I’m not outraged by masked thugs and goons deputized as federal officers grabbing people who are of certain color, have accents, work at certain jobs — some of whom are citizens — and whisked away in unmarked vans to be detained and often deported. It wasn’t because I’m not alarmed by the dismantling of agencies to help the poor here and internationally and promote the rights of racial minorities and LGBTQ folks as well as cultural diversity. It wasn’t because I’m not horrified by President Trump’s attempts and efforts to shred the Constitution and destroy our history — vividly on display in his projects at the White House, our White House — and our very democracy.

I would have gone. Sure thing. Just as I went to the huge protest radiating out from the intersection of Indian Hill and Foothill in June.

Yes, I was plenty riled up, raring to go and protest what’s going on. Instead, I was down, not going much of anywhere. Literally. Because of a pressure sore I had gotten, I was stuck lying down. I did get out now and then, but it was like I was sneaking out, escaping prison, since I was told that lying down is the fastest if not the only way to get rid of the sore.

“Fastest” is a relative term here. There’s nothing fast about getting rid of a pressure sore. I had been lying down, stuck in bed-jail as I call it, since early September. To make matters worse, this was happening in October, my favorite month with its cooling days and nights and colorful leaves and fading light. And I was missing it.

Even worse, this happened two years ago at exactly the same time, and I swore at the time it wouldn’t happen again. Ouch!

I’m here to say that lying down all the time isn’t at all what it’s cracked up to be. We all wish we could lie around all day with nothing having to be done, right? But having to lie down all the time, when one feels perfectly fine, is not only no picnic or day at the beach, it’s exhausting! What’s more, it leaves one feeling overwhelmed, at least when everything is going wrong and/or crazy.

It’s hard to lie there and read or hear about children and wives wondering what happened to their father and husband after he was snatched and whisked away by anonymous ICE agents; about queer folks like me wondering if they’re safe anymore and if they should go back in the closet; about poor people in other countries and here not getting the assistance they need to eat and stay healthy; about dangerous health advice and policies being established; and disabled people like me nervous about maybe not getting the funding they need to live full, productive lives in their own homes.

It’s hard to lie there when a torrent of dangerous, unjust, cruel and undemocratic actions are being taken day in and day out. I have felt overwhelmed. I have felt trapped, paralyzed.

Trump and his team have said they want to overwhelm, to do so many things so fast that it’s difficult to stop. Boy, it sure looks that way when stuck lying there day after day.

I have missed being able to get out and do something, to be part of getting something done, not just lying there alone, feeling helpless, hopeless. I was missing all those opportunities in Claremont, not just to protest but to be at a meeting or to just hear a talk.

Or what about going to the many concerts and performances here? Yes, some entertainment is important to get our minds off all the crazy stuff going on, and books, podcasts and streamers, as infinite as they are, only go so far. Even going out to the local cinema makes a difference.

I have missed being part of the community, being in community. In this challenging time, I have missed feeling not on my own, not alone.

As the season of gratitude and goodwill approaches, I am thankful that I’ll soon be up to not only enjoy what’s left of our beautiful fall colors, but will be even more thankful for being part of the rich, vibrant community that is Claremont.