August 21, 1968
by Amy
People are streaming into the city now. There's safety in numbers. Isn't that what they always say?
The press is calling it an invasion and warning people not to on Lakeshore Drive. Bea decided last night that she would like to help the Medical Committee for Human Rights. It doesn't surprise me, since Bea's Mom is a nurse and I think she'd like to go into that as well, maybe next year. It means that we won't see her all that much, except for our women's meeting. We plan on talking to Women for Peace and a few other local women to see if we can organize them into a Liberation enclave.
Glasses is entirely calm. I don't know how he does it. He's seen the circulars telling people that we're leading them to slaughter. On the other hand, the city thinks that we're getting ready to slaughter. There's no middle ground. Dave has been on the scene for weeks, assuring groups that our intention is demonstration and not disruption. "Positive relationships" is what he calling it.
I love Dave. I feel safe with him around. He's seen it all and done it all. He knows what to expect.
I still haven't phoned Dad. The idea of sitting down over a meal and hammering out our differences makes me sick to my stomach. He just doesn't get it, which is disappointing because I always thought he would. He did, for a long while. I don't know what happened to change his mind. Maybe it's about being comfortable. Whatever it is, I'm disappointed.
