Tags
community, conflict, core values, fiction, freedom, justice, principle, problems, protests, violence, weapons
The week before the election and at nine o’clock three people stood with signs outside Ms. Anne Thrope’s. As far as protests go these days, they didn’t seem too threatening. I read their signs:
“Liberals eat here!”
“No more liberal coffee!”
“No money for liberals!”
“Ms. Anne Thrope Hates!”
I didn’t see any weapons, which is part of the strange reality of life these days. Not seeing weapons doesn’t signify anything because some people conceal weapons–with and without permits. Scanning for weapons is beginning to feel normal, and that change bothers me a great deal.
“What’s with the protest, Ms. Anne?” asked Strawberry after delivering an order.
“Did we do something wrong?” I asked before calling, “Order to go: Blutarsky! Three blueberry bagels with Halloween cream cheese. Blutarsky—order to go!”
“This has been coming since before the 2020 election,” said Ms. Anne. “Some people think they can intimidate me into voting against my principles. They think if they can slow my business or put me out of business, I’ll change. I didn’t go through the 1960s for nothing. In fact, when we get a moment, I’m going out to talk to them.”
“You think you should do that?” I asked.
“Yeah, Ms. Anne. You don’t want to turn up their heat,” said Strawberry.
“I’m going to extend hospitality and ask them what complimentary drinks they would like. Then maybe we can talk.” She went outside. We could see her talking to Myron Foulzone, who seemed to be the group leader. The other protestors watched them talk and then we saw their lips moving. Ms. Anne returned to the shop. “Bring two lattes, one espresso, and my decaf. I’m going back to talk.”
I raised my brows at Strawberry. We put together the order and Strawberry took it outside.
“You know,” Ms. Anne said, “We’ve known each other for years. I know we disagree politically, but we can still talk together. That’s the basis of community and democracy. I believe in democracy. Don’t you?”
Myron said, “I can’t really hear you. Too much wind and traffic noise.”
“Let’s go inside to my office and talk. You can park the signs inside the shop next to the door. No one will bother them.” We watched the group walk through the shop with Ms. Anne. They came out thirty minutes later and were smiling.
“Feel free to throw away our signs, Ms. Anne,” said Myron Foulzone. “We won’t need them anymore.”
When they exited, Strawberry and I asked the same question: “What did you say to them, Ms. Anne?”
“I simply invited them for conversation about our common values. I reminded Myron of the times we’ve worked together for the betterment of the town. That was enough to unwedge what was sticking in his craw, and everybody was OK. If we could solve other problems like this.”