remember that they all failed. But Dr. King was different. He told people to get down on their knees, to be peaceful in their words and actions, to stay together and fight relentlessly for their cause.
“Dr. King understood what all of us gathered here must: that those who fight to correct injustice must be willing to accept suffering, if necessary, but never to inflict it.”
All of the normal activity you might expect to see in a bar had stopped. Even the waitresses and bartenders seemed to be completely focused on the words flowing from the stage.
“Dr. King once said that ‘no lie can live forever.’ He knew that once the American people understood the depth of the injustice being perpetrated on them, they would choose the right side. Today we face that very same challenge, and if we are patient, we can expect the very same result.
“Americans are still a fair and just people. They know the difference between racism and race-baiting, between violence and accusations of violence, between hatred and patriotism. Let them weigh the evidence for as long as they need, because when the verdict comes down, we will once again be on the right side.
“You’re angry, I know you are, and you should be,” the speaker continued. “but now I need to urge you, to demand of you, that you renounce anyone who suggests violence. Just like Dr. King, we aim to eliminate evil, not those who perpetrate it. To speak of violence in any form is to play right into the hands of those who oppose us. They’ve already invested countless hours into portraying us as violent, hateful racists, and they are just waiting for the chance to further that story line. Don’t give it to them. Instead of Bill Ayers, give them Benjamin Franklin. Instead of Malcolm X, give them Rosa Parks. Instead of bin Laden, give them Gandhi. They are well prepared on how to use violence to their advantage, but they have absolutely no idea how to use peace.
“Besides, everything we need to prevail,” the woman on stage held up her printout of the Constitution again, “every shield and weapon against tyranny and oppression, even at the late stages of the cancer of corruption that’s sickened us, everything we need is given to us right here. All we must do is find the strength and the wisdom to awaken our friends and neighbors, take back our power under the law, and restore what’s been forgotten. Restore. Not adapt, not transform… restore.
“Let me ask you all a question. Many of us in this room are painted as ‘anti-government’-but who loves America more, those who want to restore it, or those who want to transform it?”
The hushed silence that had overtaken the room for a while evaporated in an instant. Enthusiastic shouts and chants came from all corners. The misfits at the bar even put their cameras down and turned their backs as if by its nature this material would be of no use to them.
“Don’t be fooled, ‘transformation’ is simply a nice way of saying that you don’t like something! If you live in an old house that you adore, do you talk about ‘restoring’ that home or ‘transforming’ it into a modern-day McMansion? Same goes for an old car or an old painting-things that have real value aren’t changed or transformed, they’re preserved.”
She paused and looked slowly around the room as though she were talking to each person individually. “I don’t know about you, but I happen to believe that the America our Founders created is still worth preserving. Thank you, all, God bless you, and may God bless the U.S.A.”
The woman left the stage on the other side as a Toby Keith song began to play over the sound system, and Molly looked over at Noah as she applauded the end of the speech. Then she leaned toward him, raising her voice over the bar noise.
“So what do you think?”
Noah took a thoughtful sip from his glass, then shrugged as the room quieted down. “Can I get you a club soda, or some juice?”
“No thanks. What did you think of what she said?”
“I don’t know. I guess it sounds like she believes what she’s saying.”
“Wow,” Molly said. “That could be the most noncommittal string of words I’ve ever heard a man put together. You really are a PR executive.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t like to talk about politics. I’ve always thought it was kind of a waste of time.”
“So if I’m hearing this correctly, you’re willing to grant that the person who was up there speaking-my mother, by the way-probably believed what she was saying, and yet it’s not worth a second of your time to even think about?”
“That was your mother?” Noah asked.
“Just answer the question.”
“No, I didn’t say that. It’s complicated.”
“No,” she said flatly, “it really isn’t.”
“Could we change the subject, just for a few minutes? I don’t want to argue with you-”
“That horse is already out of the barn, Mr. Gardner.”
“Okay, then, listen. I see how people of a certain mind-set could start to hate the government-”
“We don’t hate government. We’re against an out-of-control government that’s lost sight of its principles and has been overrun by corruption.”
“All right, point well taken. I understand that you’re upset about what’s being done to the country-”
“I’m so glad you understand that.”
“I do. Things are bad, and they’re going to get a lot worse before this crash is over, but all this“-he gestured around at the bar full of people-“what do you all think you’re accomplishing here?”
“We’re getting together and taking a stand.”
“Taking a stand? Against what? Against the way things have always been? Because that’s not going to change.”
Molly shifted in her seat to square off with him, then looked into his eyes. “Why did you really come here tonight?”
He sighed, and sat back. “I guess I just wanted to get to know you.”
“Well,” she said. “This pointless meeting, that deluded woman onstage, and all these other misguided people? That’s me. Now you know me.”
With that she gathered her things and left him sitting there alone with his beer.
CHAPTER 11
Noah had lost count of the refills after his first pint, but by then he was averaging around thirty-two ounces of suds per special guest speaker. He’d briefly considered playing a drinking game with himself, wherein he would pound one back each time he heard one of the dirty words progressive, socialist, or globalism, but by those rules he’d have drunk himself under the table within a few minutes. Their spiels were all different but the highlights were mostly the same, with only minor deviations in two areas: where to place the blame for their country’s troubles, and what to do about it.
He was still in his lonely seat by the stage. After he’d struck out with Molly there was no real reason to hang around but he felt too beat to get up and leave. Besides, the angry beer buzz he was stoking seemed like the best medicine for putting this malignant night into remission.
The nearby crowd parted at the end of another onstage musical interlude. He’d been hoping to see the waitress bringing him another tall one, but instead it was a familiar, enormous bearded man who walked up to the table.
Hollis-no last name had been offered for him-gently touched the barstool across from Noah with a finger. The expression on the part of his face not covered with bristly hair asked politely if that seat was taken.
“Please,” Noah said, “be my guest.” The barstool looked like doll-house furniture next to this soft-spoken behemoth, but somehow it held up as he sat down. “Though I’ll tell you the truth, when you’ve got your choice of a few hundred people here who I guarantee are better company than me, I wonder why you’d decide to sit here.”
The waitress came and put a beer down for Noah and a bottle of Coca-Cola for his new tablemate. Hollis waited until she was gone to answer.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You looked kinda sad, I guess.”
As if to drip gasoline on Noah’s already smoldering mood, tonight’s headliner, the illustrious Danny Bailey, now
