protests

marching in the protest

chanting

our breaths and heartbeats in sync 

with each other

with our common cause 

flashback to five and a half decades ago 

i was twelve

marching in a very different sort of protest

with my school

carrying crudely made signs of poster board 

chanting 

save our schoo-oo-ool 

we need the edu-cay-ay-shun

save our schoo-oo-ool 

we need the edu-cay-ay-shun

save our schoo-oo-ool 

we need the edu-cay-ay-shun

each syllable and note

a taunt 

tearing at my heart

tearing at my gut

screaming and screeching 

lies

lies 

lies 

how i had prayed

during all these tormented tortuous years 

for those doors to close 

how i prayed for the end 

of the daily trauma 

caused by the sisters of mercy 

wielding their iron fists

slaps across faces

echoing through closed doors 

from way down the hall 

ganged up by nuns at the blackboard 

being made a spectacle

paralyzed in fear

as I struggled with a math problem 

then being laughed at

and ridiculed

as i meekly and weakly

arrived at the 

correct answer

clapping dusty chalkboard erasers

finding a brief escape 

in that cloudy white haze

on the schoolhouse steps 

i made sure those erasers were clean

each extra second at thoroughness 

translated into extra seconds

of peace and relief 

but eventually i had to go back in

because 

they had a temper

those nuns

each time they would threaten 

just wait until i get my irish up

the nuns said i was too young 

to have a nervous stomach 

my parents never connected the dots

their main concern was that i get 

religious instruction 

so that i could become a

submissive and unquestioning

christian soldier 

just like them 

and here i was

marching with my classmates

and the iron fisted sisters of mercy 

chanting 

save our schoo-oo-ool 

we need the edu-cay-ay-shun

save our schoo-oo-ool 

we need the edu-cay-ay-shun

save our schoo-oo-ool 

we need the edu-cay-ay-shun

while the insides of my stomach churned 

twisted in knots

to the cadence of each lie uttered

while trying hard to keep from choking

on the hypocrisy of those words

at least i was outside 

marching

away from the nuns’ yelling and slapping 

that would echo 

off the crucifix and saints

on the walls of the classroom

hypocrisy felt less uncomfortable 

than a nervous stomach

but the discomfort was still there

gnawing away at me

while i did not dare 

to confess 

that I waited in earnest

for that dark dungeon 

to close its doors for good

but i did not dare

to confess

because i was afraid 

i did not feel safe

and i never knew what it felt like 

to be safe

and here i am

decades later

marching for a cause 

so that all

could feel safe

gaslight

how could i forget

it snowed in july 

when you tried to convince me

that i had imagined it

like i had imagined so many other things

but i didn’t 

i did not imagine it

just like i did not imagine

the times when my eyes saw

that which could not be unseen

and my ears heard 

that which could not be unheard

yet still

you tried to convince me

that it was my imagination

or that it was a joke

but I could not ignore 

that which was engraved in my senses

burned into my memory

just like i could not

give up the hope

that what we had was real

that it was solid

instead of a castle of smoke

built upon a foundation of quicksand 

but in the end 

the cognitive dissonance was dissolved

by a hard slap in the face

by truth

ringing its sharp crystalline bell

and i woke up

woke up from the walking dream

where i was enclosed in a mirrored box

with two dimensional illusions

reflected on all sides 

the illusions shattered

and for the very first time

i walked free

yes it did snow in july 

and just like the snowflakes that fell

all that was left

were evaporated promises

but that no longer matters

as i forge on ahead

to much brighter promises 

that do not melt in the sun

riding the hedge

you are wild and untamed

you are free and unconstrained

and yet in my arms you are docile 

and unresistant

a willing sacrifice 

you are over my head

you go against the grain

as i grab you by the throat

ice crystals catching in your fur

before i let you go

i am much disturbed 

i am much distressed

i do not want to hurt you

please 

please

please do not make me do this

in the box you go

in that cold and airless chamber

where your innocence is frozen 

while in between your paws

the velveteen rabbit rests

your comfort

your guiding psychopomp 

i close the chamber door

to frozen suffocation 

and then i walk away

while you leap and bound

across the frozen tundra

to the otherworld 

where you will wait for me

where you will share your secrets with me

when i cross the hedge 

Moving the Blue Wave on the Childless Cat Lady Express

My workday this past Friday (10/25/2025) was quite interesting. 

It started out filled with dread, as I found out the day before that Kamala was coming to Houston, and that her rally was to be held at the Shell Energy Stadium, which is also a train stop along the route where I operate a light rail train. 

I’ve operated a train during large events — Astros games, concerts, Astros victory parade, the Super Bowl, international soccer events, high profile conventions (like the NRA national gathering), etc — and every single one of those events was an extremely stressful work day (or night). (I still have PTSD from shuttling rabid fans going to the Astros victory parade in 2017.) So it was natural to be expect the same with the Kamala rally.

My shift started at 3:31AM, and I pulled my train out of the yard by 3:56AM. (Actually, it worked out to a bit earlier than that.) On my first westbound trip into downtown, I’m scheduled to stop at the EaDo Stadium Station platform (where the Shell Energy Stadium is located) at 4:25AM. Even before I approached the stadium, I could see a small handful of news cameras staked out at various points.

After the sky got light and event organizers finished setting up the barriers to create a channel for the rally goers to line up, I saw the first rally campers arrive. They were a small group that included a man in a motorized wheelchair, a woman carrying a camp chair, and a young girl. It was still at least 7 hours before the gates would open. With each east and westbound pass, the line gradually grew. Folks were sitting on the ground and in their camp chairs.

We were anticipating there to be a huge crowd at around noon. But there already was quite the line forming and spilling out on to the sidewalk that runs parallel to the train tracks, and going down the block. After another couple of round trips, the line was already starting to wrap around the block. And there were still hours left before the gates would open.

As I was having my lunch break between 10:02AM and 11:14AM, I was listening to the radio chatter. There were already instructions to “reduce your speed, increase your audibles.” So be the time I relieved the operator, whose train I was supposed to take over, I asked him, “How bad is it?” And he replied that it wasn’t bad at all, but that you had to be extra careful going eastbound, as that was the track that ran parallel to the sidewalk where the crowds were lining up.

In the 9+ years I’ve been doing this job, this was the FIRST majorly event that I actually enjoyed doing! The traffic and crowd control was on point, and the crowd was extremely well behaved — certainly NOT like the idiot crowds that attend the sports and concert events and deliberately walk or drive in front of moving trains (thereby making what should be a 2-minute trip from one platform to the next into a 20-minute ordeal).

And the energy!!!!!

The energy was infectious!

Not only was this an extremely well behaved crowd, the folks were upbeat, positive, and joyful! Their energy and enthusiasm was infectious! And it certainly felt nice to be among people supporting a rational and sane candidate.

It was a real rush piloting my 55-ton steel beast at walking speed with the ding-dinger (the gong) ding-dinging, with the packed crowd on one side and on the other side the cops on horseback, law enforcement of different flavors on the ground, rail supervisors, and more rally goers trying to reach the crowd.

The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement!

I enjoyed interacting with the rally goers. Instead of my usual scowl or [not so] resting bitch face, I had a smile for everyone. When a fellow asked about tickets, I told him to “just get on to go to the Blue Wave.” He broke out into a broad smile. At the stop just before the rally site, while waiting for my single to upgrade, I opened my cab door, poked my head out, and said, “Welcome aboard the Childless Cat Lady Express!” The gales of laughter thrilled me to the core!

Many people were carrying signs. Some signs were simple, such as: “VETERANS FOR KAMALA.” Another was something to the effect: “AT LEAST WE’RE NOT A CULT.” And the one that made me laugh said: “GOD IS KEEPING TRUMP ALIVE SO THAT HE COULD LOSE TO A BLACK WOMAN.”

My biggest frustration was that I could not take photos, as having my cellphone out while operating is extremely verboten. So I had to take it all in with my eyes and use my words to paint the pictures of all that I could see and experience.

Because this was such an amazing crowd, if I had been asked to do an extra trip, I would have said “yes.” This event was an amazing and positive experience. And everything ran so smoothly that I was only 4 minutes late in making my relief. 

If I hadn’t been away from home since 2:20AM, and if I didn’t have hungry animals at home waiting to be fed, I would have considered going to the rally, as I heard it was awesome. But at least I got to play my part by shuttling the Kamala supports to the rally.