A Sheehan, Sheen Sunday

After my partner went out the last two weekends to shuttle people from camp to camp, I took the older kiddos to do my share. After three hours of non-stop driving I came into the Peace House for a quick bathroom break. On my way out, through the kitchen, a woman stopped me. "Which spice do you think would go better in this pasta sauce?" she asked.

I couldn't answer easily, so I spent the next couple of hours working with a team to whip up an easy dinner for 200. Martha Stewart would be so proud... if she weren't with the 'other' side.

My kids, each armed with a cell phone, reported in from time to time. The drifted like dandelion seeds from camp to camp, facing off opposite the 'anti-Cindy' protesters, documenting in their minds, and in the camera's eye, the sights of a real protest. The day was gorgeous, the highlights so many that the accompanying photos just a taste of the event.

My eldest was the 'bubble girl,' blowing soap bubbles as two of the activists got married. Then she and her sibling stuck with the press as Martin Sheen led Cindy in reading the rosary. I drove up just as they were finishing, to pick them up and get them home in time to get at least some sleep before the school day. My daughter had been angling for an interview with Cindy, and was encounteing the deft work of her 'handler.' A little smiling, pushing her unique status as a youth reporter, and she was able to get Cindy's attention for a single undivided attention. Then the crowd swallowed her, and Martin, and they drove off.

Trying to stave off the inevitable restaurant stopped I figured we'd at least eat some of the food I'd prepared and we stopped at the Peace House. We trooped into the kitchen, and it wasn't until I'd slung a dollop of dinner on my plate that I realized that the guy in the blue oxford shirt was Martin Sheen! Very cool human; he put up with my kids, and the admirers, with aplomb. Never got to see Cindy again, but we were all touched by the power of the system she'd built around her.

The odd thing is that, as much as I support her, and agree with many of the feelings about the war and it's attempted prosecution, I disagree with her core wish: I don't think Bush should talk with her. He's made up his mind, and talking with Cindy Sheehan, in my opinion, won't change his mind -- or hers.

A postscript on 9/8: All this power, all this focus, seems to have been shredded by the same hurricane that has shorn our southern coast of a tender strip.