This song is for Peg West, Molly Rose, Sam Day, and Laurie Ellen Neustadt.
Peg was a powerful advocate for children. She created a program called Protective Behaviors that influences my life to this day. She identified ways to empower kids to be their own advocates by relying on listening to their bodies when scared, by knowing who trusted friends are, and by believing that we all have the right to feel safe. She drew her knowledge from conversations with children. On their behalf and her own, she was also politically outspoken. Unafraid.
Molly was an activist, up for every protest and organization. Loving, driven by vision of what society could be, she was a dear friend and supporter for me and Laurie, and many more. She gave all of her time and energy to causes.
I don’t have pictures of Molly or Peg. Predigital days.
Sam Day was a writer and activist. Affiliated with the Progressive Magazine, he just kept pushing. Not afraid to be arrested, to keep going, and always with amazing calm and good intent. I learned so much from him.
And Laurie was my singing partner and friend for 15 years.
All of these people are gone now, but as with any powerful person, their spirits persist. And my memory of them is intricately tied up with the political actions we participated in together. Times seemed dark then. As they do now.
I’ve been going through documents and relics of my dear friend Laurie, who died just over 19 years ago. Her partner Jonathan brought six boxes to my house, filled with papers, art work, cards, symbolic objects, and letters. It has been an amazing process to peer into the intimate unguarded moments in her journals. I don’t feel like I’m invading her privacy. As she was dying she asked a small group of us to go through her things and create some memorial to her struggle and triumph. While I don’t think that will happen in a large way, it is a gift to see into her through this lens. We were best friends for years, and yet there was so much I didn’t know.
She did struggle, deeply wrestling with lifelong demons. And in the midst of that, she was loving and active and caring to those around her. She was not smothered by her darkness, as strong as it was. I was nothing but privileged to be her friend. During those times when we sang together and were best of friends, we would often hear from others how lucky we were. To be so close, and not to be inhibited by romance or attraction. In When Harry Met Sally, they ask the question, ‘Can men and women ever truly be friends?’ I can say absolutely yes, and it’s a huge gift.
One thing I’ve learned over the years is how much pain people carry inside of them. We all carry joy, too, so I’m not a pessimist about it. It’s just that the pain tends to be hidden, because it’s not socially acceptable, or because those who might hear it are overwhelmed internally with their own stuff, and can’t bring the free attention needed. The Dalai Lama says “Be kind, because everyone is fighting a harder battle.” Laurie’s pain was strong, but so was her joy. Going through her things had brought new levels of grief, and of appreciation.
I may write more about that later, but for now, this song, which I recorded simply about 17 years ago, deserves a place on this blog. I miss Laurie with a new intensity, going through her things and feeling how her lessons and words resonate over the years. Still a friend when I need one.
We marched down State Street, candles burning bright.
In a crowd of hundreds on an early August night.
We drew shadows on the sidewalks, we slept in the park.
We made a light between us, although the times were dark.
Reagan was President, and the nukes were piling higher.
At any moment we might feel that final fire.
We prayed and sang and wrote and spoke and planned what we could do
Though I was never certain, the earth still made it through.
When my world is shaking, and I’m not sure who I am.
I remember Laurie, and Molly and Peg and Sam.
Peg brought ribbons she tied at Project Elf.
Sam got arrested, and still laughed at himself.
Molly spoke up boldly, though her voice would shake and slur.
Laurie sang like fire, as I stood next to her.
When my world is aching, and I’m not sure who I am.
I remember Laurie, and Molly and Peg and Sam
My comrades, my companions, my teachers, my friends.
Speaking out and standing up, again and again, and again.
Though they all are gone now, I’m here to say their names.
And with the breath that’s in me, I ’ll sing and fan the flames.
When my heart is aching, and I’m not sure who I am.
I remember Laurie, and Molly and Peg and Sam
These are not the best of times, but they’re not the worst.
This is not our final stand, and it’s not our first.
As we march down State Street now, I see them right behind.
Singing “we shall overcome”, as their voices blend with mine.
When my heart is breaking, and I’m not sure who I am.
I remember Laurie, and Molly and Peg and Sam.
© Stuart Stotts 2001