Author Archives: fml221

Odds and Ends

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In the aftermath of the Saturday before Mother’s Day, it seems quiet.  Not necessarily on the sidewalk, but the need to gather large numbers of escorts is gone.  The fundraiser ~ which was a great success ~ is winding down as people pay their pledges.

Father’s Day is coming soon, but it just doesn’t have the same impact as Mother’s Day for the protesters.

We’ve moved deep into spring and are headed for summer, which makes my Saturday mornings more pleasant .  I’m not a fan of winter ~ in fact, escorting is the first and only thing I’ve done voluntarily that requires being outside when it’s cold.  But the seasons of escorting come and go…  and there are always stories to tell.

Servalbear and I made a neat discovery on the blog – we mentioned we’ve been getting comments from one of the protesters over and over, right?  Well, guess what!  We can mark them as spam a few times, and they start going to spam automatically.  We don’t even have to read them anymore.  Just delete them, along with the typical other junky spam.  Makes me feel like Batman, Caped Crusader ~ Bif!  Bam!!  Take that, pesky protester!**

And there’s this story ~ the escorts know this one, but I don’t think I’ve told it here.  For a long time, one group of the protesters didn’t know my name.   My vest has a name on it ~ my daughter’s, because it used to be hers back when she was an escort.  I call it my heirloom vest.   So they figured out that wasn’t my name, but they didn’t know what it was.

Then for a long time, they thought my name was Frances.   There once was an escort named Frances, but it’s not me.  One day, I ran into one of this group of protesters outside the clinic, at a public event.  She was with someone I didn’t recognize, and as she walks by, I hear her say to the other woman “there’s one of those deathscorts.”  I just smile.

Later, we come face to face, and she says to her friend, “This is…” ~ like she’s going to introduce me ~ and to me, “What is your name?  I know it’s not Frances.”

And I say, “That’s right ~ it’s Not Frances.”  And that stuck for a long time.  The escorts started calling me “Not Frances,” and it was an amusing game.  Kinda like Rumplestiltskin, right?

Recently, they figured out what my name is, and have begun using it ~ under their breath at first, with more certainty now.  Clearly, they’ve googled me, and they reference things they’ve learned about me, with a hiss, and a touch of venom.  I just smile. Fortunately, I’m NOT actually Rumplestiltskin, and the name thing was just a game.  I don’t care if they know who I am ~ I don’t have to hide being an escort.   Their efforts miss the mark.  It doesn’t matter at all.

But mostly we settle back into the mundane, after Mother’s Day.  Sometimes I get a bit tired of blogging.  You know, it starts to seem so repetitive on the sidewalk.  The protesters scream “dead baby, dead baby” and I blog “mean protesters, mean protesters,” and really, how does that help anything?

Then I hear a story like this:

Two women get to the clinic, and jump out of the car.  The escort approaches and says, “The clinic doors aren’t open yet, and there are a few protesters here, if you like, you can wait in the car and we’ll let you know when the doors open.

The two young women look at each other and smile.  One of them says, “Oh, we aren’t worried about them.”  The other one adds, “We’ve been reading your blog and practicing what we’re going to say to them!  They won’t bother us at all.”  Still smiling, they walk to the door, unfazed by the chasers around them.

THAT is why I keep doing this.   Helping people find ways to push back against the stigma and shame on the sidewalk ~ that’s what this is about.

**  NOTE:  No protesters were harmed in the writing of this blog, and I do not endorse violence in any form, on or off the sidewalk.

And the Number Is…

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315.

Three hundred and fifteen.

That’s how many protesters there were.  What does that look like?

IMG_20130511_073450_315

Yes, that’s a stroller ~ lots of families packed up the babies and came on down.  We’re heading up from 1st Street – the clinic is at the awning off in the distance there.  As we keep walking:

IMG_20130511_073505_000

Meanwhile, on the other side of the street, near the $3 parking lot is this:

IMG_20130511_073133_393They used to park this billboard right in front of the clinic, but we make a real effort these days to get there early enough to take up those parking spaces.  One year, we succeeded in leaving him nowhere to park.  That was lovely.

If you’re coming around the corner from the 2nd street side, it looks like this:

IMG_20130511_073620_155

Which is not quite as daunting as walking up through the whole gauntlet from 1st Street.  But regardless of which direction you come from, at the door, you’re greeted with this:

IMG_20130511_063019_470

An excellent example of fetus porn.  And this:

Yes, the “preacher”in this video chides the escorts for “how they treat the women who come there… patting them on the back…”   But I heard another protester say “the women are dumped out at the curb and the escorts drag them into the clinic,” ~ an interesting interpretation of events.

Watching the video, you can tell a client has come around the corner.  The woman in red springs into action.  ”You don’t have to kill your baby, someone can help you, PEOPLE WANT YOUR CHILD!” she screams.

Something about that creeps me out, it is as if the client has ceased to exist and is purely an incubator.    I might have thought that was the most chilling thing I heard, if I hadn’t heard a mother talking to her son on their way back to their car.

The woman was clearly pregnant.  The little boy was about five, walking beside and slightly in front of her, holding her hand.  I don’t know what he said, but she replied in that extra sweet voice we sometimes use with our children when we know someone’s listening.  She said, “I know!  It is scary!  I don’t know how these people can want to kill little babies.”

All I can do is shake my head.  And hope that when he’s old enough to understand, someone can explain to him why his mother would want to take him around people that she believes want to kill little babies.  Cause I sure don’t get it.

First Time Escort – by Chris

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The first thing I knew, going in, was that I couldn’t be “me”. I normally do not shy away from confrontation or controversy, but today wasn’t about me. I was there to try to make an awful situation somehow less awful for the women involved. It’s never fun to have to walk a gauntlet of people trying to intimidate you and bully you into their will, especially when they use photographs and blatant lies to accomplish their goal.

The urge is so strong to get right back in their faces, but we can’t.

I don’t know why these anti-abortionists are so strongly held in their deceit, but I have long noticed that the truth of abortion doesn’t sell the anti-abortion agenda, so they show pictures of 2-4 month old babies, smiling and dressed. This is not what is being aborted. Why lie? Because it serves their purpose.

It was an education for me.  As an atheist, I had thought of this as a conflict between atheists and Christians, but it wasn’t so much of an atheist/Christian fight, but a reasoning vs plea-to-emotion. Sure, they came armed with ‘facts’ that they might as well have made up on the drive there, such as stating that there is more evidence for the resurrection of Jesus Christ, than ANY other event in history. I’m sure there are some history students who will be shocked to learn this.

I did try to be civil, if asked a question, no matter how ignorant I thought it was. I saw a sign they had that commanded people to obey the gospel. I mentioned to one of the other escorts, that I wondered which gospel they were referencing because of the errors and contradictions in them. I was asked to name the errors, and I’ll admit they aren’t worth committing to memory, so I admitted that I did not have them on recall. His response was that because I didn’t know any, they didn’t exist. Well, I don’t know a single person in the country of Ethiopia, so I wondered aloud to my friend if that also meant Ethiopia didn’t exist.

They made the claims that there were millions of people waiting to adopt the babies that were being aborted, but last time I checked, orphanages weren’t drying up, or running empty on kids. The most obnoxious guy there seemed to love getting right in people’s faces, and when I saw some people volunteering that were less formidable, I stepped in front of him, and towered over him. I don’t think others were intimidated by him, but until me it might have been possible for him to make himself believe he was intimidating. I guess his neck hurt from having to look up at me, because he moved on.

In some ways, it is easy to dispel their arguments, especially when they start picking and choosing from the Bible. Again, I did have to remind myself that this was not the time for that kind of encounter.

This doesn’t phase me, the insults, the name calling, the propaganda, but again, I can’t be strong for these women, just hope to shield them as much as possible.

Will I do it again? Absolutely, if only because I can. I think about what it would be like if this was my daughter, and she had decided to have an abortion. I don’t know that I could refrain from responding to the things the protesters say when it was someone so important to me.

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REMINDER: If you are interested in escorting, don’t forget the training on Saturday, April 13th at 9A.  Training is not required, but it’s helpful. Please see our Trainings for Escorts page or email us for additional information

*********************************************************

REMINDER: Our annual  fund drive Pledge-A-Picketer is NOW!

The Saturday before Mother’s Day is the biggest protester day of the year.  It also is the date  where we count protesters for donations to support the pro-choice effort and the escorts.  You can pledge a certain amount for each protester showing up that morning. If you prefer, you can also make a straight monetary donation.

Use this form to make your pledge:

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Parking and Protesters

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I know Servalbear has talked about parking before,  I don’t need to tell the stories over again..  For example, you probably already know that one of the staff at AWC (the anti-clinic) parks her car at one of the meters in front of EMW (the abortion clinic) for an hour every morning during the week when clients are arriving for appointments.

We think she does it because it keeps a client  from having that more convenient parking space.  But that doesn’t even seem believable, does it?  I mean, really?  Is this a big gun in the war against abortion – having to walk a few more feet to your appointment?  I don’t think so.  So I was trying to figure out if that helps them lure people into the AWC lot so they can lie to them more, but I don’t see how it would help enough to make it worthwhile.  And I can’t really know why she does it.

But last week, a client had parked in a no parking area.  They had to walk a block back to the car to move it to the three dollar lot.  One of the protesters chased them the whole way, trying to get them to move to the AWC lot.  The client already knew where the EMW clinic really was, so I don’t know what the point of all that was.

But there are so many things I don’t understand.  This is just one of a long list.  I don’t mean the big stuff ~ I don’t expect to understand the meaning of life, or any of that ~ but lots of little stuff baffles me.

For example, Donna has a new ~ a new thing she does.  I started to say a new “game,” but I suppose it’s not a game to her, I don’t know.  It started last week sometime.

When Servalbear gets in her car to leave, Donna gets in front of her and holds up one of her big anti-abortion signs.  Just stands there holding the sign, with an air of fierce bravado.  She does it every day now, and if Servalbear’s not there, she does it to a different escort.

She did it Saturday, and I tried to get a picture of it, only the angle I really needed to be at put the sun right behind her and in my eyes and that didn’t work.  When I moved, she did too, but here’s what I got:

IMG_2281She had been facing the car behind her, but when she realized I was doing pictures, she turned to face me.  When I look at the picture now,  I think, what’s the point?  What purpose does this serve for her ~ to hold the sign up so Servalbear, or other escorts, have to look at it as we drive away?  Does she think this will have some significant impact on our thinking?

I don’t know.

I can understand her being against abortion much more easily than I can understand why she does things like this.  On the other hand, why am I writing about it at 9:45 on a Friday night?  Why do I put my energy into taking pictures of it, writing about it, trying to figure it out?

I don’t know.

Over and over I see signs of an ever-widening chasm between groups of people in our country.  Today, the courts ruled that the contraceptive Plan B can be sold over-the-counter.  Plan B is a safe, effective, emergency contraceptive, so this is good news, on this side of the chasm.

I posted the news article on Facebook and said, jokingly, “But wait, if I think it’s against my religion, can I refuse to sell it??”

Within seconds, someone had commented with an article that said Missouri has a bill that says pharmacies don’t have to carry Plan B.  Yeah, they can refuse to sell it, and i guess that was the good news on the other side of the chasm.

Sometimes, it seems like the whole world is dividing into “protester” and “escort” camps.  It’s very strange.  And it worries me.

You know, when I first started escorting, i had this idea that I would develop some kind of positive connection with the protesters.  Don’t laugh, I really did think that.  I don’t think there’s any other bit of my life where I don’t feel some warm, personal connection with the people around me.  So of course I thought some of that would develop between the protesters and me too.

That really hasn’t happened.

I know that the world is not really “us” and “them,” or at least I know it’s not helpful to think that way.  Carl Jung, the psychologist, said:

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”
― C.G. Jung

and he said:

“The best political, social, and spiritual work we can do is to withdraw the projection of our shadow onto others.”
― C.G. Jung

I believe those things, but I don’t understand how they work on the sidewalk.  So I keep thinking about it, and wondering.  I’d like to tell you that my next blog post will explain my conclusions, but I’m pretty sure I have a better chance of winning the lottery than I do of figuring this one out anytime soon.

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REMINDER: If you are interested in escorting, don’t forget the training on Saturday, April 13th at 9A.  Training is not required, but it’s helpful. Please see our Trainings for Escorts page or email us for additional information

*********************************************************

REMINDER: Our annual  fund drive Pledge-A-Picketer is NOW!

The Saturday before Mother’s Day is the biggest protester day of the year.  It also is the date  where we count protesters for donations to support the pro-choice effort and the escorts.  You can pledge a certain amount for each protester showing up that morning. If you prefer, you can also make a straight monetary donation.

Use this form to make your pledge:

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An Anniversary

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It was Easter the first time I escorted at the clinic.  Easter in 2009.

I went with my daughter.  She was an escort long before that, starting maybe back in the late nineties?  Or it could have been 2000, or 2001.  A long time ago in any case.   Often, she and some other young escorts would drag themselves, still half-asleep ~ if they’d slept at all ~ out of my basement on the way to the clinic.

They would come back with stories.  I would be appalled and worried, feel angry and helpless.  You already know the stories ~ they were not very different from what you read here today.  Some of the protesters were even the same.  I “knew” Mary long before the first time I went to the clinic.

In fact, Mary asks me about my daughter occasionally.  She did it again recently.  She’ll say she hasn’t seen her lately, and look concerned.  ”How’s she doing?” she’ll say.  It makes me laugh now ~ she was hateful to my daughter in person, why would she be concerned about her now?

I suspect that she thinks something unpleasant has happened.   Maybe that’s just my own suspicious nature talking, but that’s how it feels.  It’s in her voice tone and the look in her eye.  I think she’s trying to see if there’s a wound she can rub salt in.

But that’s ok, cause there is no wound, my daughter is doing just fine, thank you very much, so it makes me laugh.  Of course I don’t answer;  I don’t talk to protesters.

By 2009, my daughter was an occasional escort, showing up for big days when she was around.  She had invited me before, but I’d always said no.  I’m not sure why I said yes this time.

But there we were, riding down together. I remember being surprised – 6:30 on a Saturday morning and there was a line of traffic turning right on Market Street.   That seemed surreal.

I remember being overwhelmed.  So many people, so much going on… like a carnival.  Like being in the middle of the midway.  Loud and colorful, lots of signs, people with bullhorns, so much going on…

Here’s a picture from that day:

dsc01053

You can’t see the preachers in this picture, they’re on the other side of where the camera was.  And you can’t see the truck with the billboard that takes up two or three parking places, or ~ well, you can’t see lots of other things.

Here is the post rosary prayer circle from that year:

dsc01063

You can even see Donna, lined up near the building.

I knew that day that I wanted to escort.  I was not an outspoken feminist then, nor an outspoken advocate for reproductive justice.  I was a feminist, and an advocate, but not nearly as outspoken.  Back then, I was concerned about how people I knew might react to me escorting at the clinic.  Back then, I didn’t always have a good argument to make, or a support system to encourage me.

But I knew that morning that I wanted to escort, and I’ve been there most Saturdays since then.   The decision to go with my daughter that morning has changed my life, enriched it and helped me grow in so many ways.  The community of escorts is ~ collectively and often individually ~ wise and funny and thought-provoking and interesting, and I’m grateful that my life took this turn.

This year, on my four year anniversary, we had so many new folks and occasional escorts that it was amazingly lovely.   It seemed ~ to this jaded old-hand ~  like a fairly mild Saturday.  There was one protester who was unusually aggressive, but it didn’t seem “bad” to me ~ whatever that means, right?  But that’s because I forget how overwhelming it really is.

Here’s the sidewalk:

IMG_2267And here’s the post rosary prayer circle.

IMG_2278

So “bad” is just a word, and “mild” doesn’t mean a thing.

But I’ve never regretted getting involved.  If you’ve ever considered coming down, you’re invited.

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REMINDER: If you are interested in escorting, don’t forget the training on Saturday, April 13th at 9A.  Training is not required, but it’s helpful. Please see our Trainings for Escorts page or email us for additional information

*********************************************************

REMINDER: Our annual  fund drive Pledge-A-Picketer is NOW!

The Saturday before Mother’s Day is the biggest protester day of the year.  It also is the date  where we count protesters for donations to support the pro-choice effort and the escorts.  You can pledge a certain amount for each protester showing up that morning. If you prefer, you can also make a straight monetary donation.

Use this form to make your pledge:

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First Time Escort – by Tom

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My wife has been a clinic escort for over a year. She has helped with new escort training several times, and she discusses with me her experiences as a clinic escort, telling me how various “regulars” among the anti-abortion crowd act and react and how escorts, clients, and client companions manage themselves in what can be a tense environment.

In our discussions, I find that my first reactions to envisioned scenarios are sometimes good, and sometimes not so effective, in light of the primary mission in the Points of Unity the escorts agree to follow: It’s not about escalating. It’s not even about me, or any escort or anti-abortion protester. It’s about providing the space for clients to follow their decision through, with the underlying assumption being that clients have considered their options well enough to make their own decision. The hows and whys of their decision, just like the decision itself, is their own business, to be shared only with people they trust.

Of course, this also means that to focus on the clients, there is no time or space to judge the protesters. They have their own reasons for being there, most often based in their religious belief systems. That I do not share the specifics of their belief hierarchy is irrelevant. They are still people. As discussed later this morning, if calamity were to strike, I would do what I could to help them.

But I digress. Often. You’ve been warned.

I know myself well enough to realize that I would have to be VERY careful if I were to volunteer on the sidewalk. I am too ready to escalate in general. Even so, I have wanted to be there, to see first-hand the intensity, the individuals I hear of by nickname and actions only, and to help.

So, this morning, I went. It’s Easter weekend, a time crucial to the central belief of many Christians, so it was expected that there would be extra and extra-loud anti-abortionists on hand. As it turns out, the call went out via many electronic avenues, and we had students from the University of Louisville Medical School, other college students, and many other folks come out to wear orange vests. I don’t know how many orange vests were in use—one count was in the upper forties, and more people came afterward. I’ve seen posts claiming that sixty or more escorts were on hand—a reality commented upon by a couple of the anti-abortionists, who may or may not have cared that I heard them claiming to each other that our huge turnout was an indication of our concern over the power of their message. Delusions abound.

With all that extra staffing, we had the luxury of posting several volunteers across the entryway to the clinic. We were a moveable wall—tasked with keeping antis from blocking access to the clinic building, moving out of the way when clients and client companions arrived.

It was pretty easy duty, really. Stand there and let the preachers preach, let the antis spew their religious silliness. At times, move aside to allow passage by clients, client companions, and an occasional escort.

Yes, I was more than once reminded of scenes in movies in which drill instructors yell at recruits during boot camp, with the recruits required to stand at attention and all but ignore the verbal abuse. Some of the antis even tried to shame us, speaking derisively of our humanness, calling us names, telling us that their god was going to punish us for our wicked evil abetting of the abortion mill. And then in the next breath telling us that if we confess to their god, and ask forgiveness, we could enter heaven after all. Such hypocrisy. Such ludicrousness.

A couple years ago, I read the book, The God Virus: How Religion Infects Our Lives and Culture, by Darrel W. Ray. The base premise of the book is that an apt metaphor for religion is found in the study of virology. Others have used the expression “thought virus” to describe other applications of the analogy, and I find the expression apt. The idea is that once a thought virus gets into one’s head, it’s exceedingly difficult for a thought counter to the original to take root. It’s hard for someone indoctrinated in religion to see an atheistic viewpoint as even being an acceptable alternative to belief in his or her god. Scripture makes use of this, even without formally recognizing it, when it has passages that demonize those of us who don’t believe.

Of course, it could be viewed in reverse: Those of us who have been “inoculated” against the virus don’t get absorbed into it. Speaking from personal experience, I simply find the reliance on the religious person’s god to be speaking of some imaginary friend, like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. It’s hard for me to imagine believing in what seems horrendously illogical to me. The hubris in saying that no matter what our sins, the Christian God will forgive if we but ask is astonishing to me. That some sidewalk preacher dares to condemn me to his version of hell, not having any idea who I am or what I do is an insult. It’s meant to bother me.

But, because I have the secret weapon of knowledge of the concept of thought viruses, I am able to let his vitriol go on by me. I am able to focus on keeping my place, keeping my awareness on my surroundings so that I can alert my colleagues that clients are coming our way and that we need to be ready to make room for them to pass into the building.

A couple hours after things settled down, after the group breakfast, after some errand-running with another escort to collect her bicycle, and after starting to type out my thoughts, I realized that the antis were giving me a lot of power over themselves. Because I was able to let their words go by me without effect, they got angrier and more strident in their word choices.By giving me this power, they in effect empowered me to be a better volunteer, and do a better job for the clients and their companions.

I say this because one in particular spent some time in front of a group of us, deriding us, mocking us, telling us we must have been “real men” to stand up to a woman haranguing clients in front of an “abortion mill.” He went on and on, talking about how he imagined us being really proud that we were abetting the killing of babies and all the guilt-trip words he added to that. We mostly ignored him, until he called us weasels. One of our group piped up with “Can I be an otter instead?” which prompted me to chime in with “I’ll be a ferret! People treat pet ferrets quite well!” The guy walked away, disgusted that he couldn’t upset us. He came back a couple times, trying again to shame us, without success. He gave us the power to disgust him with our indifference to his snide remarks. Again and again.

Other of their ilk preached for a bit at us, or more accurately, at each other for my amusement, then moved on to preach at other vaguely-human forms wearing orange vests or clients or anyone who would listen.

A snippet, because I enjoyed seeing it happen: At one point, a fellow escort was standing beside me, and one of the more vocal preachers was haranguing people who had walked into the building. Because the preacher’s words were having less than the desired effect, he focused his attention on my fellow escort, who was at times smirking at the lunacy of the vitriol. “You mock me! You dare to mock me as I speak the word of God! You dare to mock me!” the preacher shouted.

The escort’s response? Indifference, in the main. An occasional chuckle. He removed his glasses to clean the spittle from them, put there by the preacher as he shouted his anger at having a less-than-desired effect on the escort’s mien. My fellow escort and I chuckled to each other soon after the preacher’s departure.

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REMINDER: If you are interested in escorting, don’t forget the training on Saturday, April 13th at 9A.  Training is not required, but it’s helpful. Please see our Trainings for Escorts page or email us for additional information

*********************************************************

REMINDER: Our annual  fund drive Pledge-A-Picketer is NOW!

The Saturday before Mother’s Day is the biggest protester day of the year.  It also is the date  where we count protesters for donations to support the pro-choice effort and the escorts.  You can pledge a certain amount for each protester showing up that morning. If you prefer, you can also make a straight monetary donation.

Use this form to make your pledge:

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Pro-Choice?

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I started to write about marathon season  ~ to describe how the runners, jogging down the clinic street, become a new audience for our protesters.

It’s interesting to watch the runners’ reactions.  This Saturday, three protesters stationed themselves on the corner of 2nd and Market with signs ~ I don’t remember exactly which ones.  ”Abortion is Murder,” “Don’t Kill Me,” with a picture of a sleeping infant, and some other one.

I was on the corner too, so it made an interesting foursome for the groups of people to pass through.  I kept trying to make sure they could see my vest so they wouldn’t think I was part of the anti-crowd.

When the runners had to stop at the red light, one of the preaching chasers would tell them about salvation and ask about their personal relationship with Jesus.

The response from the runners and their families was mixed.  A few expressed positive reactions to the signs and the preacher.  A few expressed gratitude to me for the work we do.  One women was annoyed with the protesters ~ she was with a group of kids, maybe 9 or 10 year olds ~ and complained about having to explain what the signs meant to the kids.  But most of them just tried to ignore the whole thing.

So I was going to talk about that, but I didn’t have pictures, and I’m sure there will be other opportunities before marathon season is over.

Then I thought I’d share the pictures I do have ~ thanks J ~ of this week’s people standing in front of the drop off zone.

SAMSUNG

SAMSUNGBut you already know what that looks like.

Then I remembered this article from RH Reality Check, entitled “Beyond Choice: How We Learned to Stop Labeling and Love Reproductive Justice”.   It talks about the effort to change the label of what we do from “pro-choice” to something broader, more inclusive, more descriptive of what we’re really about.

“Reproductive Justice” fits ~ and as the article says:

To be clear, reproductive justice is not a label—it’s a mission. It describes our collective vision: a world where all people have the social, political, and economic power and resources to make healthy decisions about gender, bodies, sexuality, reproduction, and families for themselves and their communities. And it provides an inclusive, intersectional framework for bringing that dream into being. Reproductive justice is visionary, it’s complex, it doesn’t fit neatly on a bumper sticker, and it has a lot to teach us about how to be successful in a changed and changing world.

I thought that was important to share this morning.  As I head out the door  ~ actually to the clinic, filling in for another weekday escort ~ that’s a vision to take with me.

Pledge-a-Picketer ~ 2013

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Seven Saturdays away from the Saturday before Mother’s Day.

That has a nice rhythmic flow, doesn’t it?  I was going to make it a poem, but I really couldn’t think of the next line.  I mean:

“Standing in a line, their rosaries keeping time” doesn’t really work.

“Chasing people down, spreading shame around…” is mediocre, at best.

So I let that idea go.  But it is time for our annual fund-raiser.  This will be the fourth year that we’ve taken advantage of a day when protesters turn out in droves.

In 2009, between 275 and 325 protesters showed up.  This was before we started doing the fund raiser, but thanks to the call-out we do for extra escorts there were about 70-80 escorts there.  A camera crew showed up, doing a special on teen pregnancy that year, and it sounds like it was a real mess.    There’s a post here that describes it.

We started pledge-a-picketer in 2010.  It’s a simple fundraiser.  You pledge so much for each protester who shows up, we count the protesters, and the more of them there are, the more money we raise for escorts {vests, training costs, and other miscellany} and abortion access. The idea was a great success – we had 255 protesters, 87 escorts, and a relatively uneventful day.

It is a lovely moment, when most of the protesters have arrived and we get to walk down the line counting.  It baffles and annoys them, but it’s the one time that we can enjoy there being plenty of them.

In 2011, the day before Mother’s Day coincided with Derby Day, so the clinic closed.  We really do shut down the city for Derby.

In 2012, Pledge-a-Picketer was back.  Interestingly, we only had 151 protesters.  The number of escorts dropped too, but 40 was plenty for the crowd.

Enough nostalgia.  It’s that time of year again.  If you’ve ever thought about escorting, or if you escort on the big occasions, like Mother’s Day, now is the time to think about joining us.   We’ll be having a training too, more details on that soon.

And it’s time to pledge-a-picketer.

We’ll be including this form in our posts from now until The Day, but don’t wait to til the last minute, pledge now:

Saturday Stories (3-2)

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I did another video of the gauntlet – it lacks the excitement of the real trip because it doesn’t have people running at us talking.  In fact, you can hear the pony-tailed guy on the left say he doesn’t know why I do this, it’s the same people every week.

But it’s not quite the same video.  This week, at 34 and 41 seconds, you can see Camera Joe on the right, videotaping me videotaping him.  But better than that, my favorite part, at 51 seconds, Donna comes up behind me and says,

“Get a picture of the deathscorts blocking the entrance.”

It makes me laugh because clearly she doesn’t realize I’m videotaping.

But also it amuses me because this is their new thing.  That we’re the ones blocking the entrance.  This accusation from Donna actually led Servalbear to engage with her – something she rarely does.  But I’ll let her tell that story herself… if she wants to sometime.