An Act Surprising: Saturday Morning

 

As one stands at the top of Mt. Oread and looks eastward, the hill falls away and the valley is exposed for miles in the distance. In the morning there is often fog among the trees and the valley seems very peaceful and fertile. Even in its winter coat, the shadows and snow make an impressive morning sight. I often stopped on my way to work and meditated on this scene. That Saturday morning, light was just beginning to break over the valley as we walked down Louisiana Street to the Eastern Civilizations Program building. The landscape was still hidden in the night.

In the small front yard of the building there were women gathered. I don't know how many, fifty or more. One of my clear images is all those women in that yard in the cold morning darkness just paler than pitch. They had kept vigil all night at the women's center or had wakened with a phone call to come greet a new dawn. These were the women who had drafted literature, driven cars, gathered food, and now saw their breath steam up the air. They stood with their faces to the front door. Huddled together for warmth, they were filled with joy and anticipation. A murmur of many soft voices scattered through the crowd.

I would have simply joined them, in a kind of stupor of joy, but I was ushered back into the house. We went around to the south, down the hill to the fire escape steps. We climbed up the stairs, up and up and up and in. (The predawn light revealed for the first exactly how high they were. Eek!) All the women from the building should be in the building when the door was opened someone said. This made sense.

Chains and padlocks had been removed from all but the front door. The luggage and bedding had been packed and the food boxed to give to a local charity. An apple was placed on each office desk as an offering to the anxiety our occupation might have caused the professors and staff.

As the front door was opened, the women in the yard swarmed into the building. They milled, they went upstairs and down. Some picked up luggage and sleeping children. Some hauled boxes of food. Some just hugged everyone in sight and walked out again. There was no large crowd of observers. I think four or five people stood across the street. It was still too early for good media coverage so SenEx's fear of our faces on the front page of the New York Times was in vain. Certainly no camera was visible at our exit. But no one could tell how many or who was in or out as we left. We locked the door behind us and marched en masse back to the very room where the potluck had been held 2 night and 2 infinities earlier.

I was still upstairs when the great mill-in began and I threaded my way down through the room checking on the children and the luggage I had brought. Sisters were weaving their way up through the building. Everyone hugged everyone they met. It should have taken hours, but in fact fifteen to twenty minutes is most likely. There was much laughing and singing. There were white balloons and happy faces. It was meant to look like confusion and it succeeded. It was a delightful end and satisfied our paranoid edges. It was a great leaving. It was as loud and crowded as our entry was quiet and lonely.

We went to the large upstairs room of the United Ministries. It was noisy and happy. A crowd filled with congratulations and pride. I don't know how many of us there were, a hundred or more, a mixed crowd. Dean Taylor was there and Stokstad and all the sisters. I don't think that even at this gathering every February Sisters was in the room. There may have been women absent even then. Women still working, women phoning, typing, copying. The February Sisters may have never all been in one place at one time. We are legion.

There were explanations of the deal, speeches, etc. There were already lists of meeting some of us would have to attend, Student Senate Executive Committee (StudEx) met Sunday evenings, for instance; we needed to talk to them about Day Care. Women volunteered; someone assigned them to meetings. No doubt food was offered. This meeting too was electric with energy running very high and spirits soaring.

We were the February Sisters and we prevailed. We had no idea anyone would remember us even a couple of years down the line. But for that moment we were power personified.

I gathered up my children and my baggage and went home.