Oneness you say? I will explain. First, I will give you what Trump never will: an apology. There will be many products, places and people mentioned in my post. It looks like an advertisement but trust me, folks (no, trust me) these are things to know about and love.
Let’s start with the basics: how I came to be on a bus (one of two) with 110 incredible women going to D.C.; what I wore; and what it was like to be in the march. I’ll end with some thoughts about marching and where we go from here.
How I Came To Be On The Bus
My dear friend and mentor Helen Cunningham alerted me to the opportunity over dinner in November. It was my way of saying thank you for her work as the Executive Director of the Samuel S. Fels Fund and years of friendship.
Helen is an incredible woman: mother, wife (her husband is the noted Ted Newbold), artist, cook, traveler, avid book reader and aficionada of all things Latin (speaks Spanish fluently). You will be hard-pressed to find someone who cares as deeply for their fellow humans; is genuinely true to themselves; or is more committed to causes that support the arts, education, and social justice among others. If we could bottle Helen and sprinkle a little of her on everyone’s heads, the world would be a better place.
So thanks to Helen, I readily accepted one of six available seats on a bus rented by a group of hearty women from Utah. Utah? No, they flew in. Cindy, the Utah organizer, is a sister of the Philadelphia organizer thus the connection. With Helen’s vast network of friends and colleagues, six seats filled quickly and one bus became two, one for the Utah gang and one for the Philly gang. We were scheduled to leave at 5:30 am from 5th and Chestnut on Saturday morning. Our Philadelphia leader, Louise Strawbridge, hosted a fabulous cocktail party at her fabulous house on Friday night. Louise is also an artist.
Cindy, the WIC (Woman in Charge) deftly handled a potentially disastrous bus situation and two buses - not one - left on Saturday morning right on schedule after a boisterous roll call in the hotel lobby (thank you Hotel Monaco) vividly reminding me of school days. And as you remember, something always went wrong on those field trips of long ago so in true fashion, the bathroom on our bus was broken. Yes, you guessed it. The scene was this: many women peeing in the woods at a rest stop.
What I Wore
Dressing for a march is very important. There was a lot of information on the internet and on the Women’s March on Washington website. Mostly what not to wear and not to bring, still helpful. This is what I wore:
(1) A soft, warm, pink ‘pussyhat,’ lent to me by long-time colleague, Gail Harrity who was on the bus. Gail is the President and COO of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Wow. (Also with us was the newly elected Chair of the Board of the PMA. I was like, are you guys allowed to be together in the same place?)
(2) A merino wool Rapha sweater, a gift from my daughter-in-law, Jen Nordhem. It was the perfect weight and warmth and allowed me to make an attempt at being stylish. Jen works in marketing at the British-owned company. Jen is also a WIC. Here is a great article about her professional racing. Both Jen and Will (my son, fist raised) attended the New York march. I am so proud of them!