Unfolding 'A Map of Myself': Ahead of Sara Abou Rashed's Solo Performance, an Interview with Director Larry Smith -- by Ken Stasiak

Theater Preview and Interview

A Map of Myself: A 70-Minute, One-Woman Revolution on War, Immigration, Language, Home, History and Everything in Between
written by and starring Sara Abou Rashed
Stage 773, Chicago
November 16, 2019 | 7:30PM
Info and Tickets

Interview with play director Larry Smith conducted and written by Seth Saith contributor, Ken Stasiak

Larry Smith (Wikipedia bio) founded Smith magazine in 2006 and is the creator of Six Word Memoirs.

Not only a publisher, his writing has appeared in The New York Times, Popular Science, Men’s Health, Salon, Slate and other popular outlets.

He’s also my editor, having established the Six Word Memoirs website and books including The Best Advice in Six Words and Six Words Fresh Off The Boat, to which I have contributed.

So it was with some surprise I found out he was directing a new play, A Map of Myself, written and
performed by a 19-year-old Syrian poet named Sara Abou Rashed.

Not only that, but the play has received rave reviews.

Seeking to satisfy my curiosity ahead of seeing A Map of Myself at Chicago's Stage 773 this Saturday, I reached out to Larry who graciously granted me the following interview.

I was really impressed with Sara. She is mature beyond her years with a true poet’s sensibilities. How did you meet her? 
I first met Sara Abou Rashed in 2015 at the Thurber House, a nonprofit writing and literary center in Columbus, Ohio. Our storytelling connection started in a familiar way: with her Six-Word Memoir:

“Escaped war; war never escaped me.” 

I wanted to know more, and have been fortunate both to work with Sara to shape the story behind those six words, and get to know her as a person and an artist. Even at the age of 17, speaking in a new language, Sara was most talented natural storyteller I had ever met. She took part in a few of my Six Words Live shows in which storytellers start with a Six-Word Memoir and then share the backstory in about 10 minutes.

After a show at the Tenement Museum in New York City in December 2018, we went out for Sara’s first slice of New York pizza. I asked her if she thought she could do a whole hour about her life. She told me that was a dream of hers. We got to work, and now our show at Stage 773 will be our thirteenth performance of A Map of Myself.

I knew about your writing background but never knew you had a background in theater. Tell me more. Have you ever directed a play before? 
I don’t have anything approaching a formal background in theater. But I’ve worked with hundreds of storytellers to get them ready to share a story in 5 to 20 minutes, without notes, on many stages over the past decade. As I coach them, we work on elements of live storytelling like presence and body language. But for sure, a 70-minute play with lights and visuals was a whole new ballgame. I was lucky to have great theater mentors in Columbus, and many others who were helpful ears and eyes along the way

What did you find most challenging about directing and staging a one person show? 
Mostly time. Sara is a full-time student at Denison University and I have many hats running the Six-Word Memoir project, doing workshops with companies and in schools, and being a father and a husband. You need time to do anything, of course, but when it’s something like theater that was largely new to me, I needed both time and a lot of quiet among life’s daily chaos to figure out how to be a producer and director. You find the time for the things that matter; and so Sara and I both did.

Did you edit A Map of Myself? 
I worked with Sara on every part of the play — in person, on Google Docs, and via lots of hours on
Facetime. In terms of the writing, she wrote the play and I was her very involved and vocal editor. Sometimes we would talk for an hour and decide to change just two or three words of the script. I we both loved every minute of it.

What part of Map of Myself is most memorable for you and why? 
The talkbacks and audience discussion after each performance. Every one is different, every one is inspiring.

What has your directorial debut taught you? Would you like to do more theater? 
These three words: trust the process. And two more: trust yourself. In many ways everything I’ve been learning about storytelling my whole life led to directing Map. It was often scary and challenging, but, again, the generosity of the theater community kept me going and believing in myself and in Sara. I hope to be part of more theater experiences in the future.

In a sense this play is a follow up to Fresh Off the Boat. What fascinates you about the immigrant experience? 
Six Words Fresh Off the Boat: Stories of Immigration, Identity, and Coming to America was a book that I wanted to do long before this current administration. It came out a few months into the Trump presidency and of course took on a new urgency and importance. But the themes the book addresses six words at a time and that Sara digs into in her poetry and in A Map of Myself are timeless:

Who are we as a nation? How does my family’s journey to America tell the story of this country as a whole? What kind of America do we want to be?

Both Fresh Off the Boat (my book and ABC TV show I partnered with to make it) and A Map of Myself answer these questions — and many more — through great storytelling.

What’s next for A Map of Myself? 
We’re back to Ohio for a show at Otterbein University and then working on bringing it to more venues across America.

What’s next for you? 
Bringing A Map of Myself to more venues across the country so as many people as possible can experience it; working on a new Six-Word Memoir book around life at every age; continuing to do talks at conferences and leading workshops at companies and in classrooms.

As always, thanks so much for your time and support Larry. 

Sara Abou Rashed has provided us with an eye opening vision as to the immigrant experience. Come share it with her this Saturday and witness the performance of someone I think we’re going to see a lot more of in the future.

Guest Post by Ken: Chance the Snapper. Not a Croc.

So, Chicago has a herpetological reputation, i.e. snakepit of corruption.

But this summer, for a week, Chicago's reptilian reputation was redeemed by an errant alligator.

Someone secretly released a five foot alligator into a city park lagoon.

Public reaction was at first, shock and disbelief. After a few days it morphed into amusement, then finally enthusiastic support as the critter evaded capture.

As the farce continued, quintessential Chicago behavior was put on display.

First authorities obtained a volunteer alligator catcher nicknamed Alligator Bob. (The guy didn't want his last name used for reasons which will soon become apparent.)

News pictures of Alligator Bob showed him endlessly paddling the lagoon in circles while peering into the watery depths with laser-like concentration. After six days this made Alligator Bob look like a befuddled buffoon.

The alligator was now gaining renown and became an underdog (or, I guess, undergator?) for his valiant efforts to remain free.

Remember, this is Chicago, the place that rooted for a guy named John Dillinger for eluding the cops, too.

An online metropolitan contest was conducted and the wily reptile was named "Chance the Snapper".

Even the governor submitted an entry.

Note the name resemblance to the homegrown rapper. He even got into the act via Twitter, lending his support to the little guy's escape attempts.

Then a week long circus commenced.

People, families with children, joggers, fishermen and even tourists came to the lagoon for a chance to see Chance. Food vendors did particularly well. Tee shirt and balloon vendors sold out while stuffed alligator toys were snapped up.

True to form, Chicago always is the "City on the make..."

The lagoon may even have outdrawn the local zoo, especially when Chance became a national news figure. Not as big as Trump but definitely more than Pelosi. (Meanwhile, Alligator Bob was still paddling in circles looking for... something.)

The Saturday night salsa party at the park's boathouse was particularly well attended but Chance didn't feel like busting a move.

I'm not sure if Alligator Bob attended. There were rumors that he went across the border to obtain fireworks in Indiana so he could come back and fish with dynamite.

After a week city officials realized that Alligator Bob had bitten off more than he could chew and did what Chicago pols always do: they brought in a ringer.

An alligator specialist from Florida, Crocodile Frank, was flown in.

Taking a chance at night he snagged Chance with a fishing rod.

Crocodile Frank became an instant hero and even threw out the first pitch at the next day's Cubs game.

And Chance? He won an all expenses paid trip to a 5-star alligator resort, I mean preserve, in Florida.

Crocodile Frank says Chance has it made in the shade for the rest of his life.

Chance happily acknowledged his good fortune by jauntily showing up to his press conference looking dapper in his red bow tie.

The above are just the facts. But those of us who been around Chicago awhile know the real inside story.

Chance might be an alligator but he's no dummy.

After getting stuck with hundreds of dollars in parking tickets and getting shafted by yet another horrendous property tax increase, Chance got fed up. He got into the lagoon, ran everybody around in circles, put on a helluva show... and got the hell out of Dodge by convincing the taxpayers to pay for an all-expenses-paid trip to Florida followed up with a lifetime pension.

Chance learned from the many Chicago politicians who preceded him.

Can't beat 'em... Join 'em.

That's not a crock.

See ya later.

Pithy Philosophies #26

My friend Ken contributeth:

What makes you rich is not how much you have but how much you can appreciate.  
 

Takin' It to the Streets: A Friend's First-Hand Account as Chicago Comes Alive in Protest on Thursday Night

Photo Credit: @soit_goes

This article was written by a friend of mine and initially published on revcom.us. 

I reprint it with permission, happy to have other voices represented on SethSaith about matters I find important.

CHICAGO, Dec. 4, 2014 -  “Time has come today,” sang the Chambers Brothers in a '60s rock classic.

This could be the soundtrack for Chicago tonight. Tonight—a new night!

Provoked by the decision of a grand jury in New York City not to indict a white officer in the "caught on video" chokehold death of a black man named Eric Garner, just days after Ferguson, MO policeman Darren Wilson was exonerated by a grand jury in the shooting death of Michael Brown, at least 1,000 people gathered on the same downtown corner of State and Jackson that saw not many more than twenty the night before.

Photo Credit: revcom.us/Revolution

The protesters, of different nationalities and backgrounds, soon surged forward into the street, refusing to let the cops push them onto the sidewalk. People kept up a fast march for miles on downtown and near downtown streets. They stopped to shutdown major intersections, sitting down and chanting. Then just as swiftly, on their feet and marching again.

There was method to the seemingly meandering route—as marchers reached the I-90/I-94 interstate overpass on Roosevelt Ave., hundreds ran for the on-ramp. A few reached the highway itself, and briefly stopped traffic during the busy rush hour.

But they were pulled back by the cops, who also massed and prevented protesters from reaching the highway. People headed back the other way, sitting down at the intersection and blocking the off-ramp, effectively backing up highway traffic for miles.

Motorists in cars on the surface street that were blocked and stalled by the protest were generally supportive. They honked their horns in unison with the chants from the crowd, they pumped their fists out of vehicle windows. One young Black man in a van stalled at the edge of the crowd sat out of the van window. He waved a copy of Revolution newspaper and yelled:

 “What is it going to take for this to end?”

Photo Credit: @soit_goes

The crowd took up his call as a chant. People then headed back east toward downtown again. They made their way back to State St. and eventually made it onto Lake Shore Drive (a major north-south thoroughfare along Lake Michigan), shutting it down!

There was a long stand-off as the cops set up a line to confront the people. Finally, they pushed people back off the Drive. People took off again, taking the street on the “Magnificent Mile,” the upscale shopping mecca of North Michigan Avenue.

As this is being written at 10 pm, and according to the live TV news, marchers are still in the streets in downtown Chicago!

As the revolutionary band Outernational sings, “We own the night!”

Photo Credit: @soit_goes

Guest Post: In His Old Neighborhood, Nelson Algren's 105th Birthday Party Celebrates a Chicago Gone By

(This piece was written and submitted by my friend Ken)

"Mr. Algren, boy, you are good."
-- Ernest Hemingway

Hemingway praised only two of his contemporary writers. The first was William Faulkner. The second was Nelson Algren. 

Now, all but forgotten, Algren is arguably Chicago's most quintessential author, with all due respects to Carl Sandburg, Saul Bellow and Ben Hecht.

He won the 1950 National Book Award for The Man with the Golden Arm, a story about the sad life of Frankie Machine, a morphine addicted, decorated veteran of World War II who eked out a bleak and meager existence dealing cards. The novel is widely recognized as a timeless 20th century classic of American literature.

What Hemingway was to war, Algren was to Chicago's urban losers.

Walt Whitman may have sung of himself, but Algren, with his dark naturalism, told the story of the whores, pimps, drug addicts, con men, gamblers, punks, drunks, cripples and ne'er-do-wells from Milwaukee and Division.

In a lifetime spent producing 11 books, he told the story of those whom the American Dream left behind--through no fault of their own--because no one else would.

A chronicler of Capitalism's casualties, he was a true bard of the down-and-outer and a social conscience at a time when most Americans were busy moving out to the suburbs during the post-World War II boom.

"The hard necessity of bringing the judge on the bench down into the dock has been the peculiar responsibility of the writer in all ages of man."
-- Nelson Algren, "Chicago: City on the Make"

Algren died in 1981, but a small-yet-dedicated group of Chicago writers, artists, intellectuals and progressives still remember him.

Every year, for the last 25, the Nelson Algren Committee has thrown a birthday party for their namesake scribe. This year, Algren would have been 105 on March 28.

So I found myself making a pilgrimage back to Wicker Park/Bucktown in Chicago to visit a time that is long gone, a Chicago that no longer exists, yet a place that will be with me always because Algren's Chicago was where I grew up, about a mile from where he lived.

"Yet once you've come to be part of this particular patch, you'll never love another. Like loving a woman with broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real."
-- Nelson Algren, "Chicago: City on the Make"

The party took place in the meeting room of a condominium complex/artist colony off Western Avenue at Bloomingdale at 8:00pm on Saturday, March 29th.

Warren Leming, a writer/musician/director and founder of the counter-culture band Wilderness Road, is also one of the founding members (along with the late Studs Terkel) of the Nelson Algren Committee.

Leming kicked off the festivities by telling the crowd of about 50 fellow Bohemians that the party was being co-dedicated to the memory of Pete Seeger, "truly a conscience in touch with humanity, whose courage and conviction will be much missed."

Mark Dvorak, Chicago folksinger and teacher at the Old Town School of Folk Music, then honored Seeger by leading us in a group sing-along of "This Land is Your Land"--which did a great job of creating a feeling of solidarity--and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" which I found poignant, moving and somewhat sad.

Mark's stories of singing at an Oak Park food pantry on a regular basis reminded me that some things
never change.

Algren wouldn't have been surprised. Nor Seeger for that matter.

"Money can't buy everything. For example: poverty."
-- Nelson Algren, A Walk on the Wild Side

Next, Chicago actor, opera singer and voice-over artist, Bob Swan, did readings from a couple of Algren's lesser-known writing efforts.

One was a biting satirical reply to Maggie Daly, at the time a well-known Chicago gossip columnist (not the mayor's wife) who had disclosed in her column that Algren had been arrested in a car, with two other passengers, which contained the remnants of a joint.

Algren's mug shot is still infamous and now immortalized on a coffee mug, but the charges were dropped. His reference to the time he saw Daly "lapping up" a spilled drink from a saucer--as recited by Swan--was hilarious.

Swan's second reading was a more humorous description of the time Nelson first met Mike Royko, a famous muckraking columnist for the now-defunct Chicago Daily News, at a bar. Algren thought his real first name was Roy and he had a short last name: Ko.

Chris Corbett, a writer from Baltimore and author of The Poker Bride, recounted that while attending Northwestern University in the 60s he tried to get Algren to speak there, but Nelson declined.

But when the famed author accepted a speaking engagement at Loyola University down the road, Corbett took the El train to the event. Corbett recalled how all the famous authors who spoke at Northwestern inevitably showed up drunk, while Algren--who, like Hemingway, had a hard-drinking reputation--showed up at Loyola nattily dressed in a suit & tie and quite sober.

Touchingly, Corbett said that of all of his memories from 40+ years ago of Chicago in the 1960s--the protests in the streets, the anti-war movement, the counter-cultural movement, the society tearing itself apart, etc.--his most vivid memory is of Nelson Algren reading aloud. In his own lifetime, Corbett has never encountered "a more spellbinding reader."

Each year, the Nelson Algren Committee Award is given to "community members who are under the radar and on the side of the angels." This year's honorees are the men and women of free-form radio station "The Wizard," WZRD (88.3 FM) who are celebrating 35 years of providing progressive radio from Northeastern Illinois University.

The WZRD representatives reminded us of present environmental issues by drawing attention to the recent BP oil spill in Whiting, Indiana and suggested we check out the Arctic News blog, commenting that "it must be pretty serious if the scientists themselves are trying to attract attention."

(As an aside, I have to say that the blog article regarding the possibility of near term human extinction due to recently discovered methane fountains under the melted Arctic icecap was disconcerting to say the least. My own research indicates that the facts of the conjecture are not in dispute.)

Photo by Art Shay

Algren also had a personal life. The love of his life was Simone de Beauvoir, a renowned French feminist and author of The Second Sex. Although a lifetime companion of Jean Paul Sartre--the famed French philosopher and proponent of existentialism--de Beauvoir carried on a simultaneous 20-year love affair with Algren. (When she died 6 years after Algren, de Beauvoir was buried next to Sartre but wearing Algren's ring.)

Gail Schecter, a North Shore community housing advocate, filled us in on some of the details by reading from the Letters from Simone de Beauvoir:

"Nelson My love, ...I was deeply moved when I read in your letter that you loved, as well as my eyes, my ways in love. And I thought I had to tell you these ways were just my loving you. I had always the same eyes, but I never loved anybody in these ways, you have to know, with such pleasure in love and so much love in pleasure, so much fever and peace,.... I really and wholly felt that I was a woman in a man's arms and it meant much so much for me. Nothing better could have been given to me. ... Just come to me darling and take me with your strong , soft, greedy hands. I wait for them, I wait for you."

Tragically, although one can see that they really did love each other, neither was willing to leave their respective locales--he Chicago, she Paris--and theirs was a largely a trans-Atlantic commuter affair until Algren was denied a passport. But Simone loved Chicago and referred to Nelson as the "Dostoyevsky of Division Street."

Photographer Art Shay, a friend of Algren's, took a scandalous photo of Simone in 1951 or 52 on one of her visits to see Nelson.

Dennis Mueller and Mark Blottner showed a clip from their almost-completed documentary about Algren, The End is Nothing, the Road is All, the trailer for which can be seen here. The film is in post-production and needs a few hundred dollard in contributions before it can be finished and released later this year. The film's title is taken from Algren's epitaph on his gravestone.

Photo by Art Shay

It is a time honored tradition that Nelson Algren birthday parties end with the distribution of candle-lit cupcakes and the singing of "Sto Lat," which is the Polish version of the birthday song.

This year, as the cupcakes were about to be passed around, the young lady holding the platter of shimmering cupcakes slipped and fell with the cupcakes. Fortunately, she was not hurt, but when she stood up, I could see that the vast majority of the icing had wound up on her legs. She must have been a good sport as she couldn't stop laughing.

Somehow I had the feeling that Nelson would've laughed too.

We sang "Sto Lat" anyway.

"Never play cards with a man called Doc. Never eat at a place called Mom's. Never sleep with a woman whose troubles are worse than your own."
-- Nelson Algren, A Walk on the Wild Side

---
Here's a link to some of Nelson Algren's best essays.

Here's one of Algren's proteges, Russell Baker of Princeton, explaining the true literary impact of Algren's work.

If  you'd like even more of a feel for what a Nelson Algren birthday party is like, here's a link to video from his 103rd birthday party. 

You Say Hello and I Say Dubai: Sharing Steve Leventhal's UAE Travel Adventure

Photo by Steve Leventhal

From time to time, I cross-post concert reviews and other Seth Saith articles to InternetFM.com.

This is a multifaceted sports, entertainment and online radio site run, in part, by Steve Leventhal, a longtime Chicago sports radio veteran.

Recently, Steve visited and wrote about his trip to Abu Dhabi and Dubai in the United Arab Emirates.

Given that I've long been fascinated by the glistening architecture in both cities, but especially the latter, I enjoyed reading his detailed recap.

Particularly as I haven't had the opportunity to write about overseas travel of late--a three-part recap of a trip to London & Paris in late 2011 being the most recent--with Steve's permission, I thought I would post a referral to his piece here.

Please click here or on the image below to access the article:

Another Guest Post from my friend Ken, who's either a Nihilist, a Realist or a Satirist. Or all three.

Pay Your Fair Share
(or: No One Believed George Orwell Either)

As we all know, the dangerous state of our American deficit compels us to make some hard choices.

Entitlements that we have long considered sacred must now be cut. We must curtail future spending on Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security, etc.

But this will not be enough.

In order to protect the future of our children, cutting these entitlement programs can only be a minor beginning.

In the patriotic interests of mutual shared sacrifice among all Americans, I offer the following idea.

The 150 million or so Americans who work in offices need to consider slashing their entitlements too. If you work in an office setting, you know what I'm talking about. The dirty little secret we all carry around inside. The collective guilt we all know is there, but we never talk about. But the time has come.

It's time we step up and pay our fair share for our work places. And the services and amenities they provide.

We have been freeloading far too long.

Do YOU get free electricity at home? NO.
Do YOU get free computers at home? NO.
Do YOU get free internet access at home? NO.
Do YOU get free chairs at home? NO.
Do YOU get free desks at home? NO.
Do YOU get free phone service at home? NO.
Do YOU get free faxes at home? NO.
Do YOU get free heat at home? NO.
Do YOU get free air conditioning at home? NO.
Do YOU get free water at home? NO. 
Do YOU get free toilet paper at home? NO.
Do YOU get free pens and Post-It notes and paper clips at  home?
Do YOU get free space to exist in at home, without rent or mortgage or property taxes? NO.  

Our employers are paying for our heat, light, facilities, electricity, not to mention other expenses such as worker's compensation insurance, fire insurance, etc.

Because you pay for these services at home, you realize just how much our employers are paying to give us facilities to work within and resources with which to accomplish our daily tasks.

And what about parking? For those of us who park for free in company parking lots, don't you think our employers could use those parking lots more efficiently? Rightfully, we should be paying for our parking, too.

Now, you might think I'm just being wacky ol' sarcastic Ken, but think about it. Your employer isn't paying the $4.09 per gallon of gas (or transit fare) it takes to get to work. They're not paying for the shopping, laundry and/or dry cleaning required to maintain a business wardrobe. And most aren't paying for the Blackberry and monthly rate plan mandatory for 24/7 tethering. So why are you entitled to keep freeloading off their bandwidth and air conditioning?

How asinine is it to be expected to pay workplace usage fees when there are literally hundreds of people who would take your place in a second, even if it means bringing not just their own coffee to work, but file folders and notepads and a chair they can get cheap at Walmart?

If we began to pay our fair share of these ongoing workplace expenses...say, five to six hundred dollars a month...we would relieve our employers of TRILLIONS of dollars of unfair overhead expenses that they have been paying for YEARS.

Relieved of these enormous cost burdens, do you realize how many new JOBS our employers could create to help out our fellow unemployed Americans?

Also, all of us would be able to claim these work related expenses as legitimate TAX deductions. This would save all employed white collar employees BILLIONS of dollars of taxes. Do you have any concept of what a fantastic stimulus that would be to our ailing economy? It would be an absolutely extraordinary boost to all of us as consumers.

The place is right here, the time is right now. Let this be the beginning of the grassroots movement to "Pay Your Fair Share!"

Don't wait for a leader. Each and every one of you should go back to your place of employment and urge your fellow employees to examine their consciences, step up and demand to "Pay Your Fair Share!" Make sure you let your employer know that you are urging your fellow employees to "Pay Your Fair Share!" too. Your efforts will be appreciated and  rewarded.

It's your patriotic duty. Let the virtue of sacrifice guide your actions.

In the words of our beloved former president, John F. Kennedy, "Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country." 

Or at least the corporations that run it.

Guest Post: The Reawakening of Righteous Anger, For What It's Worth -- Scenes from the "Rally to Save the American Dream" (Chicago, Feb. 26, 2011) by a friend named Ken

(Note from Seth: My friend Ken, who I met through job search networking, has been out of work longer than anyone with his breadth and depth of experience should be. But in his 50's, Ken suspects there might be more than misfortune to blame, as the "salt & pepper" of his beard may not be the type of seasoning employers are willing to invest in anymore. 

Angered by the cannibalizing of the common good by Wall Street speculators, corporations, military contractors and other parasitic self-interests, on Saturday, February 26, 2011, Ken attended the Chicago edition of the "Rally to Save the American Dream," in solidarity with union interests in the Wisconsin budget battle. 

He wrote about the experience and asked if I would run his piece on my blog. I hope you find value in Ken's insights, ire and small sense of uplift, and should you know of any opportunities for a Systems Consultant/Project Manager with a strong track record within Fortune 500 companies, be in touch and I'll be sure to let him know. 
___________________________________________________________________________________

“There's somethin' happenin' here...”
-- "For What It's Worth" by Stephen Stills, 1967

Dateline: Chicago, February 26, 2011.....somewhere in the front lines of America's class war.

Today, a nationwide protest movement came to life. This is the story of one of its birth pangs.

In each state capital of the United States, protesters rallied to show solidarity in support of the beleaguered Wisconsin teacher's union, whose members are under siege in Madison.

In Chicago, the harmonious rumblings of discord started on the 'L.'

On the trains going into the city, they boarded, at each stop, in twos and threes. You could tell who they were by their red sweatshirts, jackets and hats. (MoveOn.org organizers had suggested that supporters wear the University of Wisconsin colors of red and white.) But even among those not impersonating Badger boosters, snippets of conversation revealed a subdued but discernible enthusiasm:

“Did your local ask you to show support?”

“I'm an electrician...”
“I'm a teacher...”

“You know the cops are next....”

“Gotta do something...I've got grandchildren..”

“Do you listen to Progressive news?”

The rallying point was the State of Illinois Building in the heart of downtown Chicago, more conducive to a large turnout than the remote Illinois Capitol in Springfield. Not to mention, historically significant.

I wonder if anyone is still cognizant of Chicago's Haymarket Riot, which happened just 8 blocks west 125 years earlier. Does anyone ever read Upton Sinclair's The Jungle anymore, about the brutal time at the turn of the 20th century when Chicago was Hog Butcher for the World? Some things never change.

As I turned a corner at Clark and Randolph, I expected to see a small throng. What I ran into, instead, was a mass of two thousand people.

They were all there: white, black, Hispanic...young and old...men and women...adults and children...they were all there.

Photo: HCan Illinois, from DailyKos.com

The unions were there: AFSCME, Machinists, Laborers, Construction Workers, Electrical Workers, Chicago Teachers Union, Pharmacists. They were all there. But it wasn't a union-only crowd by far.

I circled the tightly packed crowd taking my bearings and trying to put my finger on a feeling I had but couldn't name.

It didn't have the buzz of an impending rock concert, that sense of gleeful anticipation. What was it?

I wormed my way into the center of the crowd. There were signs everywhere. Some factual, some poignant, some acerbic and some funny.

“United We Stand, Divided We Beg”

“Pharmacists stand with Teachers”

“Hey Obama, want to borrow my shoes?”

“Courage: 14”

“This is what Democracy Looks Like!”

“People Before Profits!”

“Benefits Not Bailouts!”

“When Do The Rich Sacrifice?”

And some...profane:

“Walker is a Koch sucker!”

The crowd was not unruly. Conversations were political...erudite...well informed...heated but not hysterical.

The politicians started speaking at the podium, mouthing platitudes to which the crowd responded politely but loudly.

What was that buzz I was sensing? Tension? Excitement? Thrill?

The union officials were speaking now, trying to whip the crowd into a frenzy. it was starting to work. I could feel it start to build, like the feeling you get in your chest when a master musician builds a crescendo.

I kept looking at the faces around me. They were mostly middle aged. What was it about their faces?

It was the eyes...their tired, tired eyes.

I was looking into the eyes of the modern day grunts of the world. The people who make it go.

I wormed my way into the center of the crowd. There were signs everywhere. Some factual, some poignant, some acerbic and some funny.

Tired of endless bills that keep going up, tired of trying to make ends meet, tired of struggling, tired of the unpaid overtime, tired of more taxes, tired of benefits cuts, tired of extra burdens, tired of never enough, tired of too many hours, tired of insecurity, tired of astronomical medical insurance costs, tired of never ending layoffs, and tired...of being scared.

And all they ever ever hear.....is the same: 'you don't produce enough, you don't compete enough, you don't work hard enough, you have to give more and more and more.' And now they hear: 'AND you make too much money!'

They didn't carry Gucci purses or wear Ugg boots, they're not the types to shop upscale. They were wearing nondescript gym shoes, cheap hiking boots, plain sweater caps and quilted jackets, most of which were probably made by urban peasants in east Asia. Our brothers and sisters?

These are the grunts of the world who meet their needs through family, love, kids, church, sports, ice cream, movies and once in awhile a few pizzas and beer in the back yard. They used to be America's middle class. And they're damn tired. They don't even care so much for themselves; just give the kids a chance.

It's starting to snow. A woman at the podium grabs my attention. Impassioned, she screams into the microphone, “I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!” Then she tells of her father, a steelworker, who laid down on the railroad tracks in South Works to keep the scabs out in 1935. She'll be damned if they bust us now. Some things never change.

I'm feeling it too, what's going on in the crowd, but now I can name it:  righteous anger.

Not indignation, not annoyance, not peevishness...pure, unadulterated, righteous ANGER.

I don't know what happened in Madison, but it's happening here. The dispossessed and disenfranchised now know they too are under siege in our own urban Alamo.

Now they're drawing a line.

Here we stand. We're tired of being afraid. You took our houses. You took our 401(k)s. You took our IRAs. You took our retirement plans. You took our credit. You took our future. You took our kid's futures. You took it all already. Now we're gonna fight. Now we're gonna fight like we haven't fought in the last forty years. We are all Madison now.

I remember Admiral Yamamoto's quote, after Pearl Harbor, when he said the Japanese had roused a sleeping giant. Am I part of that sleeping giant? Some things never change.

A student at the podium announces that every cop in Wisconsin has been asked to drive to Madison and sleep over night in the rotunda. Individual citizens from over 20 countries have donated money to buy pizzas to feed the 100,000 making a stand in Madison.

The crowd is worked up now. It's intense, but not a frenzy. These aren't kids fooling around or aging baby boomers looking to relive their lost youth. These are people whose anger has been tapped. A primitive survival anger. They really aren't gonna take it anymore.

And we all know too...it isn't the politicians. They're all bought and paid for. It's the corporations. It's the corporations. It always was...for years and years...the corporations.

And next, for me, the pivotal moment of the whole rally is about to occur.

It's snowing pretty hard now and I can't stop shivering. But this is where I belong.

A middle aged, black-haired woman is at the podium. She is speaking passionately...with conviction...and that indefinable something. Call it...soul.

That mercurial something that sometimes occurs when another human being cuts through you and touches you and connects. And what she says next gets to me:

“...and I know some of you...some of you stand there....and don't have a union card in your pocket...and some of you...have never been in a union in your life....but I tell you this....you stand here NOW...and today...today...you have now joined the Labor Movement...YOU all are now the Labor Movement...and we are all in this together!! starting right here and right now let the corporations know...the battle is joined! WE ARE THE LABOR MOVEMENT!”

And in the midst of my shivering...a new shiver goes up my spine.

Spontaneously, the crowd erupts into a chant “THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!...THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!..THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!...THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!!...THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!!”

Louder and louder...”THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!”

My mind flashes back to a dirt poor Tunisian kid, better educated than me, who was so economically downtrodden, humiliated, defeated and bereft of all hope he killed himself with a fiery death. Did that kid die for nothing?

It's deafening now: “THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!”

Another mind flash: an Egyptian kid stands with a sign which says “Egypt stands with Wisconsin workers. One world...one pain”. Jesus, even the Egyptians feel sorry for us.

“THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!
  THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING!”

The chant dies down.

The final speeches are made. The crowd disperses ever so slowly. But they don't want to disperse.

Something happened here. It happened in Madison. Maybe it's happened elsewhere.

We are the Labor Movement. Today, we found something..that something that the corporations have coveted and tried to take from us for hundreds of years: Hope.

In this life you don't get to pick your parents, your genes, your life circumstances, your luck, and not much of anything else.

But sometimes...you do get to make choices. You have to take where you find yourself...and choose.

What the hell...you gotta die somehow. I want to die fighting.

Some things never change.