November 3, 2004 ~ Asheville in Mourning
Wednesday.
Morgan and I went downtown for lunch, today, having taken the day off knowing we'd be up late watching the election returns. People scurried about in dark clothes under umbrellas, no one smiling.
We sat in the restaurant, quietly. There were only a few other customers; everyone picked at their food and stared off into space.
I overheard another woman whisper to her wife, after a time, "Jeez. It's like a funeral."
On the way back to the car, we passed by Prichard Park, where all of the war protests have been. A small group of folks stood there, huddled in the rain. I slipped away from Morgan, crossed to the park, and stood on the outskirts to see what they were saying. Kerry stickers and buttons here and there.
A woman was mournfully singing a civil rights protest song half-heartedly into the mic. Scattered applause as she finished.
A man came to the mike. "The truth is, we truly are all in this together..." his voice started to break up. "Hey... I... I don't think I can sing this song myself. Can you help me out here?" They solemnly drew together, forming a circle and joining hands, many now openly crying.
I went back across the street to Morgan.
"What are they doing?" he asked.
"It's the funeral dirge," I answered.
"No, really... what...?"
"Really."
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