Last night I went to Alex Pretti’s memorial. After a week of being laid up at home with a nasty cold, it felt right to go out and do a temperature check for the mood of the city.
Here’s a (not so) funny anecdote first. Friday night I told my partner Zack I wanted to go get some donuts tomorrow. Haven’t had much of an appetite lately due to being sick, and I finally felt like getting a sweet treat. We decided on Glam Doll Donuts, that we would go in the morning after I woke up. Except the next day, I woke up late and the first thing Zack showed me was a video of a man being executed by ICE outside of none other than Glam Doll Donuts. “I almost went without you,” he said. I was relieved he didn’t.
Back to the memorial. I parked my car a few blocks away and walked over. Strangers on the sidewalk suddenly became neighbors, saying a quick hello or giving friendly nods. One side of the street functions as a normal traffic lane but the other has been blocked off by the city. Inside the barrier of cones, hundreds of people crammed together like penguins in the cold. Initially the tempo of the crowd was slow and somber. Grim faces of reporters recounted the shooting. People shifted past each other politely, each trying to get a better view of the mountain of messages and flowers and candles.
After making my way around for a few minutes, I decided to take a walk up and down the street to see how the restaurants and stores were faring. Most places had closed for the evening, but a few were still welcoming people in for a warm meal. Then I heard the distinct sounds of brass instruments and cheering. I had to speedwalk back to see what was going on.
A band of a dozen or so people had taken to the center of the memorial to play some tunes for everyone; the mood had shifted dramatically. If there’s one thing Minnesotans enjoy, it’s bursting into song as soon as there’s an opportunity to do so. Even when the city is furious, nobody can resist a rendition of “Stand By Me”. However this “noise” caused three cops cars to show up and about ten cops to get out and stand obtusely with their thumbs dug into their vests. I suppose they needed to make sure nobody would start a riot with their tuba.
I watched for a few more minutes before heading back to the car, my hands numb and tingling from the freezing wind. I determined the mood was something like a joyful rage. There’s a constant buzz of activity everywhere, every single day. People have naturally organized themselves and they comfort each other because it’s the only thing they can think to do. Because no one is coming to save us, not the National Guard, not the cops, Walz, Klobuchar, or Frey.
Of course, there’s more to come. Another day-long strike is coming on Friday. The public has realized that one day isn’t enough, one city isn’t enough. The entire nation has been called upon to join. Union leaders in particular have a responsibility to answer that call because a wise revolutionary named Ted Grant once said, “Not a wheel turns, not a phone rings, not light bulb shines without the kind permission of the working class”. Sure there are thousands of ICE agents terrorizing this country, but there are hundreds of millions of workers. And they sure as fuck don’t have our permission.