Oct 1, 2005
My brief immersion in the almost unimaginable life of Cindy Sheehan begins on the Friday before the massive antiwar march past the White House. I take a cab to an address somewhere at the edge of Washington DC - a city I don't know well - where I'm to have a quiet hour with her.
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She wears a tie-dyed, purple T-shirt with "Veterans for Peace" on the front and "waging peace" on the back. Her size surprises me. She's imposing, far taller than I expected, taller certainly than my modest five foot, six inches. Perhaps I'm startled only because I'd filed her away - despite every strong commentary I'd read by her ¨Cas a grieving mother and so, somehow, a diminished creature.
And then, suddenly, a few minutes after five, Jodie is hustling me into the back seat of a car with Cindy Sheehan beside me, and Joan Baez beside her. Cindy's sister Dede, who wears an "Anything war can do, peace can do better" T-shirt and says to me later, "I'm the behind-the-scenes one, I'm the quiet one," climbs into the front seat. As soon as the car leaves the curb, Cindy turns to me: "We better get started."
"Now?" I ask, flustered at the thought of interviewing her under such chaotic conditions. She offers a tired nod - I'm surely the 900th person of this day - and says, "It's the only way it'll happen." And so, with my notebook (tiny printed questions scattered across several pages) on my knees, clutching my two cheap tape recorders for dear life and shoving them towards her, we begin:
(Go to link to read interview)
http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Front_Page/GJ01Aa01.htmlGood read, plus the t-shirt that I made for the Crawford Peace House folks got an honorable mention. Yahoo!