The first official day of the California Liberty March was cold, overcast and drizzly. NOT the typical sunny San Diego day I was hoping for.
I arrived at the Old Poway Park to find it bustling with activity. I was surprised to see children and costumed adults all over the place. And, the train engine was out. It looked like a Saturday instead of a dreary Monday. A homeschooling organization was holding an American History event for their kids. A distinguished-looking black gentleman, dressed as a sheriff was there, volunteering to teach the kids about blacks in the Old West.
Three patriots met me there: Brad, Rick and Don (I will not post last names). Also there was a News Program filming crew from Australia.
The Aussies had contacted me last week about filming the start of my march, and to interview me. They are going to be in California until May 3rd to cover gun control legislation. Somehow, they found out about my march.
Being interviewed ended up being rather difficult due to the noise of the crowd, the playing of a violinist, and the loud whistle of the train engine. So, we moved away from the park, and did a strolling interview.
I don’t think the older gentleman who did the interviewing appreciated my brusque manner. He asked me a question that was dripping with liberal sentiment; something about the tragedy of gun violence, or something.
I told him that I, of course, deplored shooting and deaths. Simply because I support the Second Amendment doesn’t mean I am devoid of compassion. But, I said, this isn’t about gun control. It is about controlling the American populace. First, I find it insulting that my fellow Americans do not trust me. That is what they are saying when they push for gun control. Because no mentally-ill person, and no criminal will comply with any gun laws. Therefore, the only people who pay the price are law-abiding citizens. We are expected to give up our unalienable rights so that people feel better? No.
I also told him that no one in government has the constitutional power or moral authority to deprive me of my inalienable rights. Based on his expression, that didn’t go over well. Perhaps he was thinking I am one of those “unreasonable right-wingers” who won’t compromise in the name of saving “the children.”
If he thought this, he was correct. If the children are to be safe and protected, it will be in large part due to someone on campuses being armed.
As part of their B roll footage, I rolled and unfurled my flag over and over from different angles, and was filmed walking at 20% my normal pace. The sheriff-costumed man agreed to be filmed as well, because he liked what I am doing. When the Australians were finally done filming, they were off.
Just before they finished, though, an elderly man in a small car pulled over and demanded to know why I was carrying the Flag in the rain. He was livid. He informed us that he was a Korean War POW for two years, and that he would not stand for the Flag to be mistreated.
I informed him I was marching so as to stand up for the Constitution, and he calmed down. I gave him a business card with the Liberty March contact information. Assuaged, he drove off.
By the time Brad, Don, and I reached O’s American Kitchen in Mira Mesa, it was 2:30. That was over an hour past schedule. The manager had offered to buy lunch for whomever marched with me: Pepperoni pizza, breadsticks, salads, and drinks (Thank you, Robert!).
Brad and his wife Mary took their leave and Don and I continued on. Thankfully, the pain in my feet due to diabetic neuropathy wasn’t bad at all.
We didn’t get too far before a homeless man ran up to me and started asking me questions about my flag. The 3’x5′ flag is on a 9.5′ long pole. So, it’s visible from a distance.
The homeless man identified himself as the Popular Hobo. He has a blog and wanted to interview me. Apparently, even homeless people have Internet access these days.
During our talk, he informed me about the bombing at the Boston Marathon. I was shocked. I was marching all morning, and hadn’t heard. I took my leave and kept walking.
Don had to leave shortly after that. I quickened my pace. Eight miles later, I finally reached the end point to today’s march.
At the Carmel Mountain Post Office, I did not see the usual throngs of Tea Party people on the streets. Only twenty or so people were there. They were having a great time with loud music. I handed out some cards, telling people about the march. Half in attendance, though, already knew me. I had hoped I could handout a hundred or two cards, to get more publicity. But, alas…
It was at the moment that I realized that no one there could give me a ride back to my car. My flagpole was too damn long! No one there had a mini-van like I have, which could hold my flag. So, I decided to start walking back to my house, six miles away.
Along the way, I meet a very nice couple walking a dog. Henrietta is from Sweden, and she dreads what is happening to America. She warned me against the adoption of Socialism. I shook their hands and continued home.
After a bit, night fell. It was dark. By that time, my muscles ached from holding the flag, and walking so far. It was very dark and I was wearing all black. So, I must have seem odd to people who drove by.
On the last mile until I reached home, I was trudging. The soles of my feet felt as if a meat tenderizer had furiously beaten them a dozen times. As I am typing this, I am resting the soles of my feet on an ice pack. Agony again.
I am exhausted. I will post again on the second day of the march.