Nicollet Ave. & 26th Street,
Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA
"Pretti's last words, spoken to a woman who had been tackled to the ground and pepper-sprayed by nearby Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents, were 'Are you OK?'"BELOW: As I'd hoped, it was indeed warm enough yesterday to take off mittens and gloves. (36ºF/ 2ºC) You can see bare hands...
theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/jan/26/alex-pretti-minneapolis-shooting
I hung my Sunrise God's eye on the American flag:
BELOW: Marz had brought a pine spray from up north to make her eye.
She hung it on the soft white rope embracing the memorial--the rope is braided unspun wool (roving).
BELOW: A heart of fresh flowers. Someone who'd just come from the Renee Good memorial (a mile or two away) said she'd seen one there too.
We are tender and temporary.
Marz hadn't been down since the surge began in early January.
Seeing it through her eyes was a good reality check.
The first thing we'd done when she arrived the evening before was go to the deli on the corner. She was startled that you have to knock on the locked door to go in.
Made me realize how much I have already acclimated to the weird new norm.
The next day she drove us to the memorial (a couple miles), and on the way there, three young men on winter bikes came flying down the hilly street toward us, BLOWING their whistles, in pursuit of white vans.
Ice Patrol!
Marz turned the car around, blaring her horn, and we followed, blowing our whistles out the open windows.
The ICE vans disappeared onto the highway exit, and the bikers pulled over and gathered around their phones--alerting the patrols down the line.
At the memorial, Marz pointed out was how individual the signs and responses are. There is no one dominant script. Literally, people handwrite signs or design them online with all kinds of different fonts and messages.
Somewhat different than the dominant design of Black Lives Matter here after the police murdered George Floyd
(about 8 blocks down, and 8 blocks over, in either direction from the ICE murders).
Not that there wasn't a ton of unique art and expression then. There was! But this is more decentralized. It's like everyone agrees: ICE OUT, but otherwise is coming from different places.
Differences aside, it felt horribly familiar, sitting at another memorial to someone killed on the street by our government forces.
It's just so weird.
Why again in this city? My city.
Why do I have a front-row seat to this history?
What am I supposed to do with that?
BELOW: A hand-written poster at the memorial.
"The secret fear of the morally depraved
is that virtue is actually common,
and that they're the ones who are alone."
Virtue is actually common.
I found a random chair, pulled it into the afternoon sun, and sat and wound God's eyes. A couple people stopped to ask what I was doing, and chatted with me.
I told one woman that I'd been waiting for a warm day.
"This doesn't feel warm to me," she said.
"Oh?" I said. "Where are you from?"
She had driven here from Syracuse NY!
An RN, she'd been at work when the news of Pretti's murder came, and she and her coworkers had cried. "Not just because he was an RN..."
"I don't know why I came," she said.
I didn't think to say, "Because you're virtuous",
but I said something like that...
I told her it matters that people like her care, and show they care--it really helps people in Minneapolis--including me--and our country!
It pays tribute to our shared humanity.
We talked while I made a little God's eye in the Greek "evil eye" blue and white.
When it was done, I gave her the eye. I had really wanted to SAY something to connect, but I think this action meant more than anything I could or did say.
We hugged.
"I will keep this forever," she said.
____________________
BELOW: I had hung another eye on this handwritten message board:
It's ALL ABOUT Finding the CALM in the CHAOS!
I've been writing about trying to find that center, you know, and to act from it. I really liked seeing this--it felt like personal encouragement to me.
_________________________
Afterward, Marz wanted to go to the Whipple Federal building, home base for ICE.
I'd thought we might go to both places, but I was completely full up, so she dropped me at home and drove there herself.
She came back a couple hours later, saying it was good I hadn't gone, and she sort of wished she hadn't.
It was a lot of mostly young men angrily shouting at the ICE agents going in and out of the building with completely covered faces––some of whom taunted back.
She'd thought it would feel good to yell at them.
It didn't.
I'd thought it might be like that.
______________________
"What am I supposed to do with that?" I asked above.
I guess I know--for this moment...
Stay away from Whipple.
Go back to the memorials.
Make Little Things in Yarn there, and elsewhere.
Talk to the person who presents themself.
Witness their virtue.
Give them a little thing made of yarn.
Ask, Are you ok?
Ask yourself too.
______________________
BELOW: "Trek Over Ice" sock-puppet parade in a storefront in my neighborhood!
(k, this reminds me of the window tableaux you used to see in VA!)
L to R: Next Generation's Capt. Picard and Counselor Deanna Troi, (the ship's empathic counselor, she asks "I.C.E. would you like to talk about what's bothering you, or would you like to break more people?"),
and the Original Star Trek's Captain Kirk
* * * Let your virtue shine, friends!
Thank you for keeping posting from your war zone and for finding and reporting on the good and the positive in each post. The contrasts are poignant.
ReplyDeleteWell, hey, you are welcome—thanks for reading and saying.
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