We’re on a corporate job in Stanley and have just come down from the
hill where we’ve been shooting moose. I mean filming moose. Heading
back to the car, we run smack into a load of senior citizens holding
signs touting peace. People are honking, and I think they are being
rude until I see the sign: “Honk for Peace.”
The group is out here every Wednesday with the signs and the smiles.
“Every Wednesday since 9/11,” says a grey haired ponytailed one. But,
they’ve been in favor of peace since, well, the sixties. These are
real vintage hippies.
A kindergarten teacher holds a sign that says “Free Hugs.” In the
classroom, she gently preaches peace like an evangelical. She has it
in her heart that if she can plant the idea early enough into their
heads, it will stick, take root and overcome everything. Like Japanese
Kuzu. I hope she is right.
Another man asks if we are photo-journalists, and I tell him that
right now we are working for the man. But we sometimes take pictures.
And we sometimes document with words. He asks us to tell everyone
about peace. He says if we don’t embrace it now, there will be nothing
left, and we will truly be witnesses to the end of days.
His friend puts his arm around his shoulders. “That’s heavy, man. Too
heavy.” They laugh and go back to holding up the signs for peace, and
people honk, and we finish our job for the man.
