Make Quilts Not War - By Arlene Sachitano Page 0,42
but she was interrupted before she could add her own thoughts on the matter by the wiry little man they had assumed was Colm Byrne’s manager.
“I brought you ladies the extra backstage passes we talked about,” he said with an expression that landed halfway between a charming smile and a lecherous leer. “These are good for the dance tonight and the big concert on Saturday night.” He handed four large yellow cards and their lanyards to Aunt Beth and Mavis.
“By the way, we haven’t been formally introduced,” he said to Harriet, “but they call me Skeeter. Your aunt and her friend helped us out when the refrigerator in our food truck went belly-up yesterday. Will four be enough?” he asked. “Colm wants you to be able to bring all your friends after you saved our bacon, literally,”
“Don’t forget you already gave us three, the other day.”
He smiled, and Harriet saw he was missing two bottom teeth. Apparently, only the onstage talent had to look beautiful.
“Four should be plenty,” Harriet said. “Our friend missed the impromptu concert, but I’m sure she’d love to come.”
Skeeter separated two more passes and began untangling their lanyards.
“Yes,” Mavis said. “She’ll be the one in the Afro wig.”
Skeeter dropped the passes and their lanyards. Harriet looked at her aunt as he bent down to pick them up. He yanked a pass out of the mess, thrust it into Mavis’s hand and turned abruptly and walked away.
“Well, that was bit strange,” Harriet commented.
“I’m sure a lot is strange in that little man’s life,” Aunt Beth said and turned back to her salad.
“Did you notice that he has the same tattoo Jenny’s brother has?” Harriet asked. “That stylized peace symbol. They both have them as part of other images, but it’s the same tattoo.”
“Oh, honey, everyone had peace symbols on everything back in those days. And that elongated variation was quite common,” Mavis said. “It’s a sign of the times, you might say.”
“We better get going,” Aunt Beth said when everyone had finished their lunch. “We promised Marjory we’d help with the prom decorations.”
“See you later,” Harriet said. “I’ll be the one with the ‘Make Love Not War’ sign.”
Aunt Beth glared at her over the top of her glasses but didn’t say anything.
“Love you, too,” Harriet said as they walked away.
Lauren came by as Harriet was closing up for the day. The nature of her business meant she didn’t have to deal with a cashbox at the show, so shutting her booth down for the day consisted of putting her samples under the table and getting her purse and coat out. This time, she pulled her army jacket from a bag and put it on and picked up the pillow Jenny had brought during her lunch break.
“I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” she announced.
Lauren was dressed in hip-hugging wide bell bottoms that had been embroidered with antiwar slogans, and an embroidered Mexican peasant blouse over a fitted navy blue long-sleeved T-shirt. She wore round-lensed granny-style eyeglasses to complete the look.
“Where did you get the pants?” Harriet asked.
“I hate to admit it, but I found them two years ago at a thrift store in Seattle. They were too classic to pass up. What’s with the pillow?”
“Jenny had it in her car. She thought I might need it, especially if we have to sit the whole time. Will we be getting up to march, or will this be more of a sit-in?”
“I think we’ll mostly sit there. Marjory wants us to get up and march when the mayor and the Chamber of Commerce president arrive. We do have to chant off and on, though.”
“So, what are our chants?”
“Most of them aren’t anything that can be said in polite company, so we’ll use ‘Hey-Hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today,’ ‘Hell, no, we won’t go,’ and ‘Draft beer not boys.’”
“Those are the tame ones? What happened to ‘make love not war,’ and ‘give peace a chance?’”
“The first one is a slogan for a sign, not a chant, and the second is a song by John Lennon—again, not a chant.”
“Okay, whatever you say,” Harriet said. “Lead the way.”
Lauren’s group looked more like computer geeks from the two thousands than protesters from the nineteen-sixties, but to their credit, there were a lot of them, and they all carried signs with appropriate slogans.
“You sit on this side,” Lauren directed Harriet when they’d all gathered in the foyer of the exhibit hall. “I’ll sit on the other side. When I get