Herding Thoughts...

A Never-ending Chore!
Oct 19, 2025
Today is October 19, 2025, and I’m sitting in the shed. I’m busily contemplating the activities and emotions of the past 24 hours… there were a lot. ALSO… there is a fly buzzing around the windows looking for an exit… it’s amazing how the furious searching and anxiety of the insect affects me as I attempt to pull a single consideration out of the tangled musings inside my mind.
If that buzzing beast continues to distract, I will be forced to retrieve my sunflower flyswatter from the kitchen and end his suffering. Oh – there he is, he’s found a resting spot by my mother’s wooden shoes… Ooops wrong fly, I shall return with the flyswatter and hopefully achieve clarity…

15-minute time lapse due to big ass fly removal…
   
Come to find out… it was not a single insect – but rather a squadron of the flying behemoths … I had to take down the curtains to hunt and eliminate the annoying distractions – one by one they were silenced… and now I feel the need to deep clean my tiny retreat. Nope – I will not be led astray by the thought of decaying fly carcasses littered throughout the shed… I will resume my task of reflection and corralling the thoughts churning inside my mind.

So anyway… back to herding thoughts…

First thought… seemingly off topic but it does apply to yesterday… I sincerely appreciate the weirdness of the people of Portland and in particular the guy who wore the inflatable frog costume… Frogs Against Fascism is a perfectly absurd response to the grotesquely absurd situation of armed, fascist, federal, thugs roaming our streets and harassing innocent civilians.

Over the past few months, I have grown increasingly weary and frightened by the flagrant assault on our democracy, our institutions, the rule of law… the destruction of everything that millions of us hold sacred… The Portland Frog hit a nerve among Americans who feel we deserve better from our government.

When I decided to join the protest on October 18th, I asked some friends if they wanted to go with. They declined – even with the offer of a free t-shirt. My granddaughter wouldn’t dare be seen at a protest with her gray-haired grandmother, but she did encourage me to stand in the back and not make myself a target for any violence… I assured her I would be fine. My dear sister-in-law, Eileen said she would go with me… I felt better having someone accompany me.

As I drove down 23rd to pick up my sister-in-law, I passed by the protest. Across the street from the “No Kings” protesters was a lone counter protester, touting a sign stating that he loved Trump. With my hands firmly placed on the steering wheel at the 10:00 and 2:00 position, I slowly raised my middle finger… actually at that position, the middle finger of my right hand was pointed sideways – to the left… thus not visible to anyone in the vicinity…the trump supporter could not see my gesture. Even though that subtle motion was invisible to any in the area, in that brief moment, this aging hippie had exhibited a spark of resistance, albeit a weak and private spark, but a spark nonetheless… a spark of defiance. In my mind… I was a badass… just like that fierce inflatable Frog from Portland. I chuckled to myself… a wrinkled, gray haired, 74-year-old badass… indeed. At 74, I’m still so immature.

With my sister-in-law in the car, I circled back to the mall… we arrived at the protest at 11:30 or so. There was quite a crowd. I would estimate that there were probably 250 in attendance. It was a friendly, older group of protestors, however, there were some younger folks and a few children in attendance as well. I recognized an old friend in the gathering and asked her to snap a picture of me and Eileen before joining the others on the sidewalk.

During the week before the protest, my friend Troy at Max Designs, helped me put together a custom protest T-shirt and poster design. Again…I really love how the Portland Frog has risen to prominence in the fight against ICE… but more than that, I just really love frogs…

In my retirement, I’ve written a series of children’s stories about a trio of Frogs. My fascination with frogs goes back decades to the summer days of my youth, and our quaint little family cabin on Big Island, just at the edge of the Platte River.

I wanted to feature “my” three little Frogs for the design and Troy helped me do that. Eileen and I looked adorable in our pretty “Three Frog” shirts… and our protest signs looked amazing…“FROGS AGAINST FASCISM – UNITED WE STAND” I will share the photo!
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With our picture taken, we settled in and introduced ourselves to our fellow protesters. We commented on the sizeable crowd and noted the lone counter-protester across the street. I don’t think he was harassed by anyone on our side of the street… that is if you don’t count my invisible “badass” one finger salute… There may have been a few people who mocked the counter protester but it was hard to tell with all the honking and yelling… Generally speaking, I think the counter-protester was pretty much ignored.

There were hundreds of cars that drove by us during the protest. Even with the yelling and the honking of the horns… it seemed to me that the majority of the drivers and passengers in the cars were supportive of the NO KINGS protesters. However, a limited number of drivers yelled disparaging comments at the crowd gathered on our side of the street – just enough to make it interesting.

I stood at the same spot for maybe half an hour and then felt the need to survey the crowd… so off I went. I ran into Patti and we talked about our friend Cherrie who had recently passed away… We both agreed that Cherrie would have attended the No Kings protest… we missed our friend. We also agreed to meet at Cherrie’s memorial service, that was to be held later in the day. We parted ways and I continued to walk the length of the protest, stopping to visit with old friends and acquaintances. I hadn’t “peopled” this much in a long time…and now I had to go to gear up for a memorial service… I wasn’t sure if I had it in me.

At 1:00 the protestors dispersed and I dropped Eileen off, back at her home. I needed to feed my granddaughter and prepare myself for the next peopling activity. Ugh, I was feeling sad and depleted… I wished I hadn’t committed to going.

I didn’t have a hat… the last time I needed a hat for an event, I borrowed one from Cherrie and that was like 25 years ago. Everyone was supposed to wear a hat in memory of Cherrie… Cherrie was a collector of hats and the collection was wonderful. If Cherrie was here, she would have let me borrow a hat… I was feeling even sadder…

I gathered my strength and grounded my energy to steady myself for the upcoming “peopling” onslaught. As I drove to Izaak Walton in the late afternoon, I recalled some special moments I shared with Cherrie and with Patti. The three of us had a distinct connection. I remember warmheartedly that time that Cherrie and Patti invited me to lunch. As we ate, Cherrie and Patti explained their vision for a three-day community festival…finally asking me to join them in creating John C. Fremont Days… I said sure – how hard could it be? It was hard.

Their request came at a time when I was finally settling down after a failed marriage and painful divorce. I had somewhat regained my footing… raising two little kids, working my ass off and unexpectedly, falling in love.

By the time Cherrie and Patti asked me to join them in the effort to create the festival, they pretty much had a plan for what John C. Fremont Days would look like. My expertise was in promotions, advertising and fundraising but in the end we three were overlapping in our duties. We found ourselves immersed in a project that was larger and more labor intensive than we expected. The three of us were being pulled in various contradicting directions and completing tasks we hadn’t anticipated. It was an exciting, thrilling, challenging and even frightening period … filled with a variety of stressors.

One particularly troubling time, we three were identified as “she devils” by a local pastor and he forbade his congregation to participate in the festival… We overcame a number of bizarre obstacles during those first few months. It seems so silly looking back at those peculiarities now, but many factions in the community sought to break us and make the process much more difficult than it had to be.
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It was grueling at times, nevertheless, we persevered. We incorporated the organization and joined with other community members to pull off a successful three-day celebration. It was rewarding to see so many, contribute so much, to create such a wonderful and award-winning event. I know one thing for certain, the three of us were incredibly grateful for each and every man, woman and child who helped build that first festival – it certainly took an entire village. I am also forever grateful that Cherrie and Patti invited me to participate in that weird and wild, first time ever, John C. Fremont Days adventure.
                
A pleasant recollection from that first festival, is the logo of John C. Fremont Days. I developed that logo from an “old-time” lithograph featuring John C. Fremont upon his noble stead. I reworked the artwork to create our festival symbol. Unbeknownst to anyone else, I hid our three initials in the horse… a “P” for Patti, an “S” for Sue and a “C” for Cherrie. It was something I included to commemorate what the three of us had achieved… a personal and (as it turned out) not so hidden reminder of what we had accomplished.

Cherrie often joked that we had had nine months to get that first festival put together and it was like the three of us had gone through a painful and difficult pregnancy together… to me it seemed fitting that our initials would eventually be etched in stone and serve as a permanent and private reminder of what we had endured together.

Cherrie, Patti and I went our separate ways after that first festival, but we would reunite from time to time, for interviews, for funerals, opening ceremonies, weddings, JCF Days Board reunions, and even birthday parties. We texted each other and talked on the phone, but for a variety of reasons we saw less of each other in the past several years.

Cherrie helped me out a few years ago when I organized a story telling event at the May Museum during John C. Fremont Days. Cherrie loved to tell stories, and she loved to act. She would assume a historical character (such as an Irish immigrant) and give her audience a glimpse of that individual’s personality, life and experiences. Cherrie had a talent for weaving a tale and bringing history to life. Cherrie helped educate thousands of adults and young people across the State. Cherrie shared her gift as a featured speaker at the May Museums’ Day in the Past event, here in Fremont.

At the memorial service, people stood up and shared chosen stories of their time spent with Cherrie. It was enlightening. I’ve known Cherrie for years but yesterday I learned more about my friend. Cherrie was involved in copious projects, activities and organizations throughout the State and around the world. She had developed lasting relationships and cultivated beloved friendships where ever she traveled. Her extroverted personality, kindness of spirit and sense of humor had touched the lives of thousands.

I’m glad I mustered the strength needed to venture out and “people” for the second time yesterday. I saw friends and even family, that I haven’t seen in years. The accounts they shared of Cherrie were heartfelt and for the most part, true.

I haven’t seen Cherrie’s boys in decades… they are both so sweet and all grown up. Their mother had left specific instructions for her memorial service – Cherrie had a way of organizing things - perfectly! Cherrie’s sons did their duty well and carried out her wishes according to plan. I left the memorial service feeling peopled out - but comforted as well.

Yesterday was a lot. It was a day of peaceful protest, remembrance, reflection and moving forward. It was a day to honor a woman of incredible achievements, strength and talent… it was a day to say NO to a would-be tyrant King and a day to bid farewell to a dear friend.

When I started my time in the shed, there were lots of thoughts and emotions, swirling in my head… Thanks for joining me in this coping and calming exercise… I feel lighter now! Until the next stupid story - be well.
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