May 13, 1968
by Amy
I wonder if there's a file on me, locked somewhere in a maze of government offices. I suppose there would be since my Dad is a columnist. I even imagine that he's got a file, though he's often come down more on the side of the police than anyone else. Which is what's made the past few months hard for him, hard for the newspaper and difficult for his readers. Now he's changed his thinking, and people can't get used to it.
If my Dad can change his mind about the war and the police, anyone can.
Today, our group met in the park. One of the guys held a beetle up and said, "Look, bug!" and we groaned and then laughed. The press committee reported that the newspapers are still being used as a tool against us and we held a long debate about whether we should protest. We decided against it.
Then Glasses asked us what we thought about Coleman joining our group. Someone asked if he would be both a reporter or a group member. Glasses said that he would be both. It's fundamental that we enlist everyone who wants to help and with his experience, there was most definitely a role for him. They all seemed to dig the idea, so he brought it up for a quick vote. It was unanimous, except for me. I abstained since Coleman and I screw occasionally.
I didn't see it coming. He certainly didn't tell me, but then again, I've been avoiding him. So maybe it wasn't a secret. If he spends more time here, it will be hard to avoid him.
I don't know how I feel about any of this. If it's good for the Movement, it's good for me... I guess.
