Occupy Eugene: Prologue

Week of October 9.

Since I got back from my Lake Tahoe vacation in Mid-September, I’ve been sitting in my recliner watching re-runs of NCIS, playing computer games on my iPad, and mentally whining about not having a passion to throw myself into. I am, admittedly, bored. Or, perhaps, my current condition could be more accurately defined as existential ennui. Either way, I am driving myself just a wee bit nuts.

It’s been 18 months since I retired, and I still don’t know what to do with myself. I am on hiatus—not really wanting to commit myself to much of anything, but missing a driving force in my life. My excuse is that I will be moving out of the Oregon rain, back “home” to California, any time now. In reality, I am putting off the move because my daughter and only grandchild are here in Eugene, and I am loathe to leave that nine-year-old boy an entire state away. I suspect that I am also dragging my heels because I have been here for over twenty years, and the prospect of re-establishing myself elsewhere is daunting. Besides, I confess I do love this town in spite of the rainy, wet, nasty winters that last for seven months. I don’t want to move yet, but I don’t want to put down more roots than I already have.

In the meantime, what to do? As a retired social worker, there are a myriad of things I can volunteer for. I am working as “extra help” for the mental health clinic from which I retired, but it is not much of a challenge. I don’t need the money, but I do need a learning curve if I am going to be happy. This I know about myself.

I have been following the Occupy Wall Street events on Facebook for a couple of weeks now. My activist friends are posting info from the New York, Philadelphia, and Boston Occupies. This is beginning to look like something significant. I check Facebook to see if there is an Occupy Eugene Group. There is. I go there. I sign up. I find out there is a rally, march, and Occupy being planned. There is a peacekeeper training in a few days, and a call for people to learn the skills for the march.

Ah, my niche! My passion always and forever: in spite of my 65 years, an increasingly temperamental left foot, and decreasing resilience to adverse weather, I love peacekeeping. I first discovered this when I volunteered to be on “Karma Patrol” at the World Symposium on Humanity. It was quickly validated at my first Rainbow Gathering in 1979 when I learned about “Shanti Sena” and jumped right into the “Peace Army” phenomenon inspired by Ghandi.

At the time, non-violent conflict resolution was a skill set I was in desperate need of in my personal life; but I found that, when I was dealing with complete strangers, I had a gift for de-escalation. I eventually spent twelve years as a crisis intervention counselor, and another seven as a social worker, interacting with folks who were distraught, angry, struggling with chemical dependence and/or mental and emotional problems. My natural bent was strengthened with the skills modeled by dozens of peers.

I was at the Federal Building during the Gulf War I protests; in the streets as an impartial observer during the anarchist bubble of the late 90’s; active in community liaison work prior to the protests leading up to the Iraq war, and a self-appointed Peace Monitor during the early stages. Always, I have positioned myself as a “neutral” during these events. In my heart, yes: always against war, always for social justice and civil liberties. But, as a peacekeeper, there is no carrying of signs or chanting of slogans. And as a free-lance peacekeeper, I am independent of any group or organization. This is my greatest love, an enduring passion. No man could ever compete.

By the mid-90’s I found myself increasingly dissatisfied with how the city of Eugene responded to local protests, and I applied to be a citizen member of the newly-formed Police Commission. My fellow commissioners and I were charged with advising the city manager, the city council, and the police chief on matters of policy, best use of resources, and preferred policing alternatives. To my amazement, over the next eight years of my tenure the Police Department accepted many of our recommendations, but only after much time spent discussing why the policies and procedures were the way they were and debating how they could best be improved.

At times, it was clear to me that we were practicing the Art of What’s Possible rather than making any real change; at other times, we were able to substantially address real systems problems. At the very least, our brand new body served the purpose of creating greater transparency, as well as putting the department in the position of having to articulate why they do things the way the do. A little self-examination is always good.

Coming from the Peace Culture (read: “old hippie”), I initially worried about being marginalized, not having a real voice, not being taken seriously. Further testing my ability to bridge the culture gap between myself and the rest of a body dominated primarily by white males, I unintentionally dyed my hair purple. It was long and silver when I went to my first commission meeting. A few months later I cut it, then decided to return to my natural youthful brunette color. I used a product labeled “temporary.” It lacked muscle, and my hair came out a deep plum. Outside in the shade and inside under lower light, it appeared to be dark brown. As soon as it was hit with bright light, its true color came shining through.

People liked it. It was a wonderful conversation piece. Total strangers (middle-aged, middle-American types—not hippies, freaks and kids) stopped me on the street to compliment it. I decided to keep it. Somehow, it functioned in Eugene’s municipal political scene much as a bright red dress functions for women in the halls of the U.S. Congress: it got me noticed.

I have always gloried in challenging people’s assumptions and pre-conceived ideas. When I was younger, I loved to shock people. Now in my mellower years, I would much rather astonish them with how together I am. Short, round, and wrinkled as I am, with a ring in my nose and a fine disdain for fashion and dress codes, you would hardly take me for a competent person, at least until I open my mouth.

My mother was an English major. She read constantly: fiction. My father was a history major. He read constantly: non-fiction. They were both extremely articulate. It rubbed off. They were also political and fiscal conservatives. That did not rub off. Black sheep of the family, and all that. It would have astonished my father, had he lived to see it, that I was able to debate civilly, and effectively, on many of the same issues over which he and I had so long battled, often bitterly.

When I started my work on the Commission, I already knew many of the officers in EPD from my work on a mobile crisis van, and it was evident that there was a measure of mutual trust and respect.  In the field, they let me approach them on their gun side. In other settings, I hugged them and they hugged me back. I have hugged every police chief in the EPD since 1999, as well as most of the command staff and many of the line officers. Not as daring, perhaps, as placing a daisy in the rifle barrels of the National Guard, but still, pretty subversive stuff.

For the past two years, I have helped teach crisis intervention and de-escalation skills to the men and women of EPD. This opportunity thrills me, as this is exactly the same communication skill set, with somewhat different framing, as that used in non-violent conflict resolution. Some of the officers in the department are none too thrilled about the chief’s mandate that everyone must have this training. No matter. If I give it, they will come. As I teach, hopefully, some of it will rub off even if they don’t think they need it or want it.

Little by little, the relationship-building continues. Of one thing I am certain: that they will do me no harm during a protest or demonstration.

I also like to believe that my presence at demonstrations as a peacekeeper helps keep both the protestors and the police just a bit calmer, just a bit safer. I am a very calm person, very non-threatening. And in addition to the fact that I am short, round, smiley and wrinkled, I also have skills. I decide to go to the Peacekeeper training in order to help out at the rally and march that will be happening on Saturday, October 15. When the march ends, the physical occupy will begin.

I think about my customary neutrality as a peacekeeper. My conclusion comes rapidly, with no reservation. This time, there will be no neutrality. I am in this. I am the 99%. I will Occupy.