God, I hate going to rallies.
Don't get me wrong; I am all for political participation. I make phone calls, I write letters, I write checks; I put in plenty of volunteer hours on issues that I care about. While I'm sure I could be doing much more to make the world a better place, I'm not really a sit-on-the-sidelines kind of gal.
But rallies. For the past quarter century I have avoided them like the plague. To start with, I’m an introvert, and there are few things I enjoy less than big crowds. And then there are the slogans and the speeches. I dislike the simple-mindedness of political rhetoric, the jargon, the demonizing of opposing opinions. And the chanting! Don’t get me started.
And yet I have found myself at rallies for the past two weekends. Last weekend, of course, I had to go to the Women’s March (I went in Boston), if only to show off my fabulous new hat, made for me by my daughter Rebecca: