The other volunteers came to our “up-market” site just after sunrise. Meanwhile, I had borrowed from a friend a small canvas marquee although her husband worried whether it would be “safe” … with me … The overnight rain had turned into drizzle. Close to Xmas, it was humid and the usual suspect began her usual grizzle. Passers-by were unresponsive; Well, who would be want to be stopped, to be told about disappearance, torture electric shock. All that was happening worlds away… My ankles were swelling so was my brain … it was dispiriting to see that everyone passing was in such a hurry. The traffic was making the air thick and blue the swearing and snarling, the gestures were too. When out of the churlishness and murk of the road, a young fellow stepped over the gutter and quickly came to our stall. “D’yawanna han’ ?– wotcha doin’? that Amnesty?” The banner was limp and way too heavy – for seniors to attach to the iron street lamp The young fellow just grabbed it. Five minutes. Fixed it. Seeing the costume of the Amnesty candle - none of us could wear it - “too humid for canvas” he threw it on, grabbed a tray full of badges and proceeded to accost with cheery noise and encouragement all passers-by to open their wallets. This boy-man it seemed was saddled with “a reputation” – it seemed moderate enough in the telling He made us glad we had stood up in public for Amnesty - gifting time for our efforts and glad for the pleased smile of the youngster as he strode away
Denise enjoyed the challenge of this many-faceted theme – sharing smiles and laughter was her prism during isolation.