A Birdhouse
In Brooklyn

By Linda Danz

Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. People grow old only by deserting their ideals. Years wrinkle the face, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-interest, fear, despair—these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust. —Watterson Lowe

Friday, November 8, 2013


Behind the Scenes of: 
A BIRDHOUSE IN BROOKLYN

Unfortunately the trip to Washington, D.C had been a jarring wake-up. Her memories of earlier journeys to the capitol were filled with high-spirited protestors bent on getting the hell out of Viet Nam or ensuring women’s rights, and when there didn’t seem to be so many factors clamoring for attention. Marissa’s account of the national protest she’d joined—just a few weeks after the attacks—had little prepared Lucy for what she might expect.

Yes, the grim-faced Robocops were there, just as Marissa had described them: pumped up in riot gear, flexing batons and standing shoulder to shoulder along the marchers’ route, much more menacing up close. Others gripped intimidating weapons she’d never seen before, positioned in rigid, elbow-to-elbow formation, preventing any detour from the official route. Helicopters hovering overhead dipped their thudding propellers, drowning out the speakers below. 

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