"Lots of traffic at Brengle Terrace," read the text from my son's basketball coach. We left early for practice that evening, and as we approached the Jim Porter Recreation Center in Vista, we saw cars parked up and down the narrow street.
"I wonder what's going on?" I mused. Then I saw the signs. "Doug Applegate for Congress", "Hands off my Healthcare", "Resist", and, best of all: "Make Your Sign Here".
Miraculously finding parking next to the outdoor courts, I left Henry at practice and walked over to the crowd, spilling out of and milling around the multi purpose room at the back of the Rec Center. I was curious to see what was going on.
Vista,
by the way, is in North San Diego County, a reliably
red part of the state with strong ties to the military. Darrell Issa,
the congressman who represents Vista, is one of the most powerful men in
Congress, a nine-term lawmaker who chairs the House Oversight
Committee. A successful entrepreneur worth almost $500 million, he was
an early and staunch supporter of Donald Trump during the 2016 election,
one in which he defeated his Democratic challenger, ex-Marine Doug
Applegate, by a mere 1,600 votes. Since the election, Issa has born
criticized by opponents for failing to appear at town hall-style
meetings to which he has been invited.
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| Henry's basketball practice, with the Rec Center windows visible beyond. |
So what was going on at this anti-Issa rally? There were several hundred people in and around the building carrying signs. My favourite showed the congressman's face on a Waldo cut out: "Where's Issa?" I bumped into a friend who had a poster for a candlelight vigil for the "missing" congressman.
But despite the irreverent posters, this was a very sedate
affair, I have to say. The
people were overwhelmingly white, middle aged, and mainly concerned about
healthcare. There was no foaming at the mouth. There was no anti-Trump
vitriol. There were very few self-absorbed whiny millennials, and
there were a lot of American flags. Every so often a halfhearted chant
of "Education, not deportation" sprang up, but mostly people were
standing around, holding signs, and chatting. They may as well have
been at a tea party. Inside the Rec Center an "empty chair town hall"
meeting was going on. A female pastor urged those lining up to speak to
be respectful and to keep their speeches to a minute in duration.
I had Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on audio book waiting for me back in the car, so after 15 minutes or so of taking in the atmosphere, I left. Over the next 20 minutes, the crowd outside dwindled and I could hear snatches of the speeches from the comfort of my minivan. Still intrigued, I decided that Harry Potter could wait, and I walked back; with the thinning of the crowd, I was able to stand just outside the entrance to the Rec Center and listen to the speeches. I heard EMTs, military veterans, grandmothers, and other "normal" people speak, many of whom prefaced their remarks with something like "I have never done this before" or "I am not a paid protestor". The loudest ovation was for a headscarf-wearing Muslim-American woman and her daughter who issued an open invitation to Darrell Issa to come over to her house to drink chai, eat samosas, and talk politics. Almost every speaker spoke of his or her concerns about healthcare. No one that I heard disparaged the president.
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| "Where's Waldo/Issa" cut out at the front of the stage. |
I had Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on audio book waiting for me back in the car, so after 15 minutes or so of taking in the atmosphere, I left. Over the next 20 minutes, the crowd outside dwindled and I could hear snatches of the speeches from the comfort of my minivan. Still intrigued, I decided that Harry Potter could wait, and I walked back; with the thinning of the crowd, I was able to stand just outside the entrance to the Rec Center and listen to the speeches. I heard EMTs, military veterans, grandmothers, and other "normal" people speak, many of whom prefaced their remarks with something like "I have never done this before" or "I am not a paid protestor". The loudest ovation was for a headscarf-wearing Muslim-American woman and her daughter who issued an open invitation to Darrell Issa to come over to her house to drink chai, eat samosas, and talk politics. Almost every speaker spoke of his or her concerns about healthcare. No one that I heard disparaged the president.
As I listened, I realised what drew me to this event. Sure, I probably have a lot more in common politically with this kind of a crowd than with Tea Partiers or pro-Trump supporters, but it felt refreshing to hear normal people talk in normal ways about normal issues. There were no sensationalist headlines, no fake news (although one speaker did quote something she saw on Facebook...), no antagonistic rhetoric, and no punditry. Or, to use my students' vernacular, there were no savage burns and no roasts.
Now, this is not to suggest that political protest should lack energy or righteous anger. There are times when standing up for truth and civil rights and democracy requires us to be outspoken and noisy. And certainly, there was nothing that any of these speakers did that threatened to make a difference or change the world. But in a society where rational discourse is increasingly rare, there is something to be said for people gathering to politely ask their elected representative, who in this case just happens to be one of the most powerful men in the country, what he is going to do about something incredibly important that is under threat.
Now, this is not to suggest that political protest should lack energy or righteous anger. There are times when standing up for truth and civil rights and democracy requires us to be outspoken and noisy. And certainly, there was nothing that any of these speakers did that threatened to make a difference or change the world. But in a society where rational discourse is increasingly rare, there is something to be said for people gathering to politely ask their elected representative, who in this case just happens to be one of the most powerful men in the country, what he is going to do about something incredibly important that is under threat.
On that evening, I was getting my news first hand, with no filter. No one was telling me what they'd heard or seen on a viral video. When it comes to my community, I now know what people are concerned about. I know what matters to them. And for some of these people, the decisions Issa and other Republicans make could literally mean the difference between life and death.
I have no idea if these protests and other gatherings will persist - I drove past another one downtown today - but I resolve to pay much more attention to them than to anything on my Facebook feed, which, by the way, I haven't scrolled through for at least two weeks.
