I had one of those flashes of memory, long forgotten, that pop to the surface, clamouring for investigation, after pondering our current writers’ group word prompt “outline”. It began with the mundane. What do I know of outlines apart from outlining a story, which I rarely do; my own, ever-expanding outline, which I try to ignore; the outlines of a pattern for a hooked mat, which I rarely attempt these days.
This particular memory is of an event that occurred around 1989-90. Sometime during that year, I participated in a spot of civil disobedience. This was a rare event for me. I was too young for the anti-Vietnam war demos and in the wrong place for Red Lion Square its ilk. I get claustrophobic in crowds because I’m short. That’s my excuse, anyway. On this occasion, however, I felt strongly enough that I got out there and did something. This was in Toronto; let’s face it, not a city known for much civil unrest. I must have seen the call to action in one of the free newspapers that were handed out on the street corner near where I worked; the intersection of Yonge and Bloor; center of the universe. We were encouraged to bring others and I recruited my parents and my husband. We foregathered late that Sunday evening in the basement of a local church.
It was, for the most part, a young crowd. Aromas of patchouli and weed hung heavy in the air. We were given long strips of parcel paper which we placed on the floor and then lay down on top of. One or other of us drew around our entire outline and we each followed up by cutting out our one-dimensional selves. After that, we were given a map, a bucket of whitewash and a large brush. Our area, I seem to remember, was around the Queen, College, Bathurst area. Others of the group spread out across the city center.
We walked for miles, stopping every few meters to lay down our body pattern and paint our outlines, crime scene style, all over deserted Toronto city streets. This wasn’t a crime scene, although the police did know about it; keeping an indulgent, if distant eye on proceedings. No, this was an anti-nuclear, anti-weapons-of-mass-destruction demonstration and our silhouettes represented what would be left behind if Toronto was hit.
The group outlined thousands of images that night but despite our massed efforts, they represented only a fraction of Toronto’s millions. To cap off our night of protest, we painted our final silhouettes just outside the door where we worked. They greeted us as they greeted millions of others when we headed in to work on Monday morning. It was a sobering sight.
Clo Carey Feb/20
http://clipart-library.com/murder-outline-cliparts.html
South Shore Scribes one-word prompt: “Outline” blog challenge #SouthShoreScribesNS @www.emilybowers.ca/ https://wordsbywhittall.blogspot.com/ @passionate_perspective @https://www.facebook.com/groups/1470587219691626 #amwriting #onewordprompt #OneWord
#write28days Feb1
* I’m attempting the Write 28 Days blog challenge in an effort to jump-start my blogging efforts. Blogs will be split between Teetering on the Edge and dottieodearyconversations.wordpress.com – have to let her have her say occasionally, otherwise she’ll get stroppy.
Teetering on the Edge 