I was listening to the news as I drove to work on Wednesday. I was late, which really wasn't a big shocker. In fact, it is more of a shocker when I arrive on-time. (Except for Court, I am on time to Court because I have to be, but I digress...) Anyway, back to the news: It was a big day at the U.N. Obama was making his first speech there. And Ahmadinejad was also slated to speak. CNN went on to report that people were traveling in from all over North America to stage a major protest against Ahmadinejad. An Iranian college student, in the United States with a one-year student visa, gave an interview. She told of her friends and family in Iran who had protested the election fraud in Iran. They had been beaten and/or arrested. She spoke of messages pouring in from her country--her friends who had been forcibly silenced. And so she would be outside the U.N. to protest, to give voice to her silenced friends.
In that moment, I connected. I was no longer thinking about being late or the stack in my in-box or the many things on my ever-growing to do list. My heart and my mind were with her, and her friends. I seriously contemplated driving across the river and heading for the U.N. so I could raise my voice with hers, so I could give voice to her silenced friends.
Something in me awoke. I became again the girl who took a summer break while in graduate school to do humanitarian work in South America. Stories, theories, and ideas from my substantial writing project on international human rights for women in Islamic societies flooded into my mind. I liked being her again. Jessica, you were right--I really do love having a "cause." In fact, I thrive on it. It made me feel alive and excited. I love that part of who I am. She comes out in many ways, when I interact with the fabulous young women in this area or when I do pro bono work. But I have missed that girl, the one who dreams of making a difference in the world and then who finds her cause and works to make a difference. There was nothing I wanted more right then and there than to join that protest.
I just wasn't quite sure how I would explain it to my boss or how I would manage the conference call with a Judge with all the noise of a NYC protest in the background. And so I went to work and logged in and quickly became bogged down with the many details that were passing my desk. Negotiations for my biggest client's very complicated settlement needs passed a critical phase and were going well. The Judge gave us the time we needed on our case. I prepared for the 3 matters that I had in Court the next day. And I drafted a brief in opposition in which I showed that plaintiff had misquoted the statute and misrepresented to the Court the controlling law. My billables were fine, despite arriving late and leaving "early" (as in before dark). It was a good lawyer day.
I forgot about missing the protest at the U.N.
I dashed home, arriving at 6. (Sorry, Garry! I tried to get out of the office earlier). I exchanged my lawyer clothes for the preferred jeans and flip flops. I scarfed down a buffalo chicken ranch panini with mozzarella, tomato, and avocado. (Thanks, Garry! It was delicious. I loved it even though I talked all night about craving a Philly Cheesesteak.) We fought the traffic and arrived in time for 360. The U2 concert. I've been looking forward to it all summer. We rushed in and found our seats right before it started.
Muse opened for U2. I had heard of them but had never listened to their music. It was perfect. The music was loud but I liked their unique, almost eclectic style. I may become a fan... (I say that with the caveat that I had no clue what the lyrics of the songs said, and for me to become a fan I have to like the music and the message.) But the beat and the loudness were enough to turn off my mind from work and the million other things running through it and to just be grateful that I was sitting holding Garry's hand and that we have been blessed with some amazing opportunities.
There was that inexplicable hour break between Muse and U2. What was that all about?
Then the lights dimmed, the crowd became electric, and ... It was incredible. An amazing concert, a perfect evening. I smiled, remembering the U2 concert that I went to with a group of friends from the 92nd ward. Those college days were wonderful, and those friends still are the very best. And then I found her again. Up on the screen was an image of a Muslim woman; they spoke of the voices crying for freedom, voices that were being brutally silenced. Sunday, Bloody Sunday. Walk On. One. I was inspired. I re-connected with her for the second time that day. I felt right again, like myself, like my dreams were within my reach.
Lately, I've been feeling that change is on the horizon. I am ready to come full circle.
P.S. Torrey, don't be a hater. Garry took the camera out-of-town with him before I could download my pictures to add to the blog. I'll update this post with pictures and even a video or two from the concert once my wandering husband brings the camera back home to me.
