• My Day with Cecil 2004
• Peace vs. War in Crawford Texas PDF

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My boyfriend, Alan and I were vandals. We defaced a "Bush Cheney" sign in our upscale, suburban community, Mukilteo, WA., creating an uproar in the editorial section of the local paper.

We are both in our forties. Alan is a tall, fit engineer who looks very handsome in a sports coat. He just shaved his head, which was pretty radical for him. I am a yoga teacher and a stand-up comic and I lead introductions to a weekend transformational workshop. That's how I met Alan. We're into being leaders.

I was delighted and a little amazed, then, when Alan agreed to do it with me.

Late at night, dressed in dark clothing, merry in our juvenile bonding, I watched for cars as Alan shook the spray paint can and drew a big, black circle with a slash through it over the word "Bush". He was careful not to deface the American flag. A nice touch. We snuck away and walked by a cop's cruiser, holding our breath and endeavoring to look like a middle-aged suburban couple, which is what we look like, so it wasn't hard.

Then all hell broke loose in the local newspaper and on the sign. Lots of copy-cat vandals. Someone added green, rust and more white. Someone else had come by to repaint the sign back to it's original red, white and blue glory, but it had rained and most of the paint left long, pretty streaks. I drove out of my way to get home just to see the daily, new developments on "our sign".

I'd excitedly dial Alan to interrupt him at his job as Vice President of engineering at an electronics company: "Honey, they tried to fix 'our sign' again, but it looks terrible! ... really pathetic!" Alan wasn't into it anymore.

One day, I went out and bought more paint ... glittery teal and pink ... I asked the woman at the art store what would be best for defacing campaign signs and without the tiniest reaction, she directed me to the proper section of the store.

With five little paint balloons in a box like new puppies, I drove to the sign. The sign had become a Jackson Pollack painting ... I wanted to steal the whole thing and hang it above our sofa, thrilled about the color and composition. Giddy with glee about it. I fingered one of the rubbery, teal puppies.

Then something pierced my glee. I thought, "I'm an anti-war activist involved in a signage war. I'm a big hypocrite." I took my paint balloons and went home.

"Honey, I realize we gotta knock it off" I said to Alan as I came in the door.

He had, apparently, realized that a while ago, but I hadn't quite heard it that way. I'm SO damned self-righteous. Alan, who is also no stranger to self-righteousness, agreed: If our new relationship is going to fly, we better learn to drop our positions now and then.

"And we gotta make it right, honey", I said.

"Yup, you're right" Alan picked up the phone and called the Republican headquarters and apologized, offering to pay for the sign.

They were shocked. "No one has ever come clean before, and certainly no one your age", the lady said.

They wouldn't take our money, but they recommended we go out with Cecil, the guy who fixes the signs.

"You guys got a lotta nerve, admitting to this," Cecil said over the phone with a slight Southern drawl. Then, he invited us to a barbeque for his Republican, youngster friends who were going back to school. I was busy that night and glad to be, as I couldn't imagine going over to Cecil's to "party" with a bunch of kids who know I'm a staunch anti-Bush criminal. I imagined lots of gun racks and/or fish symbols. I felt a little like an old punk-rock girlfriend back in New York City who was hired to act in a Hall and Oates video. "I just hope I don't have to touch any of them" she said in her cool, dark way.

It was enough for me to go to Cecil's house on the day we promised. I was afraid. Cecil's house was not hard to find with it's campaign signs all over the yard. Meeting his wife, Eva, I extended my hand, self conscious to introduce myself with my name, "Vanda", which is pronounced EXACTLY like "vandalism" -without the "lism".

Eva was a gracious Chinese woman who had been raised in Hong Kong and then San Francisco. She had been a Democrat but switched at some point to Republican. She said if Kennedy were alive today, he'd have been a Republican. She talked passionately about responsibility and welfare and even cried when she said her own mother would NEVER need to go on welfare. I was just there to fix signs. Eva had been raised Buddhist, but recently "gave her life over" to Christianity. I shot a glance to Alan.

"Eva's a much better person than I am; she's got religion in her heart" Cecil said of his wife. I was impressed with this interracial, Republican couple. I truly didn't think Republicans did that, marry with other races. I did not think you could be Buddhist and be a Republican. I still think if you are a Christian, you have to be a Republican, but I could be wrong.

I was embarrassed to be in a vehicle sporting bumper stickers I was diametrically opposed to, anticipating dirty looks from the anti-Bush gang on the freeway. And we DID have to touch ... Cecil drove his old pick-up truck, I was right next to him, and then Alan squished in beside me.

I watched Alan, who is so strong and capable, a man I was falling deeply in love with and the spry 67 year old Cecil together, almost chummy, like father and son, afraid they were going to become best friends. "Heya, Alan, bring the Bush Blue over here, wouldja? "Cecil drawled. "Sure Cecil, Here ya go".

Cecil was indefatigable in his zeal about fixing signs. Location after location, talking about signs, vandalism and his daily commitment without restraint.

"I just don't like it when wars become political" Cecil said as he steered the pick-up truck onto some gravel near a shredded signboard. "Aren't they all political?" I asked. Alan nudged me with his long femur bone. Cecil believes we fight some wars for honor, freedom and justice.

I began to wish I knew more, had more facts at my paint-encrusted fingertips, could argue better, could change Cecil's mind. I read conspiracy stuff. I read Robert F. Kennedy's "Crimes Against Nature". I never believe our government acts in our best interest. That's like saying drug companies are committed to people being well. It is a system, like all of our male-dominated systems, that works not working. ANY other view seemed naive to me.

Soon the eight hours were over. We drove home in Cecil's pick-up truck, legs touching. We liked Cecil. He liked us. More gracious invitations from Eva. Our first two Republican/Christian friends.

Alan and I had to go. We had a "couple's evening" to go to. Something about creating peace in relationships.