The leaders of Common Ground on the Border (and it's big sister, Common Ground on
the Hill) believe there is value in bringing together music, lectures, conversations, meals, visual art, and action. They point to the role music and other artistic media play in social justice efforts (the civil rights movement, anti-war efforts, etc.). Visual art can express emotions our words have a hard time describing. Music can lift us up and give us direction. And when the long road to justice feels too hard to travel, playing a drum or writing a poem can ground and heal us.
As with most aspects of my two weeks on the border, I didn't really know what Common Ground was about or would entail; I just saw there were more
workshops I wanted to take than time would allow. I really wish I could have fit in the hand drum session.
It was a great blend of immersion activities on the border, lectures by interesting people, and lively music. Having heard who they are trying to get to headline next year (not yet official) I'm trying to figure out how to get back.
It was three days of extreme highs and lows - a conversation or a song would have me laughing and cheering; a story or film would set off hopeless tears.
We started out with one of those get-to-know-you activities. The kind I have a love-hate relationship with: I hate doing them, but I know they help me get to know people, and I love that. In this case we had to find people who "matched" our answers for three questions: our hometown, where we live now, and a hope we have. Since most people were from Arizona, Indiana or Wisconsin (several churches had sent delegations) I knew I wouldn't be matching the first two. But I connected with lots of people who had lived in New England part of their lives - and one woman who lived in Tyngsborough (where I currently live) for years, and we had friends in common! But my favorite part of the activity was one participant's response at the end: "I don't know what we were doing, but now I love everybody." I think that sums up how I felt about my time on the border: I didn't know what I was doing, but I just felt such love for the people I encountered.
Music was a big part of that, of course. When Ted Warmbrand started to play I only paid attention because he had a banjo. I'm a huge fan of (UCCB parishioner) Karen Wilber's banjo-playing-joke-telling combo. Ted's a
famous folk singer-songwriter in those parts. He's a character, very light-hearted, until he starts to sing. He's especially known for his song, "Who's the criminal here?" This video accompanying the song is not humorous at all, and reflects many of the stories I heard about interactions with Border Patrol: destroying water, taunting volunteers. But please know there are also good stories about BP helping people in distress. One agent talked about the violence devastating the homelands of border crossers, and says he would do the same thing in their place - whatever it took to get family to safety. Another told the Samaritans that they "walk on water" and shared stories about people's lives who were saved by the desert water drops.
In addition to the musicians brought to lead workshops and give concerts, conference participants were activist musicians in their own right. I happened to share a car ride with Jonathan Best, founder of Build the Bridges. He told me about attending a rally for then-candidate Trump during the 2016 presidential campaign. He wasn't there to support or protest Trump as a candidate, he was there to sing. He wanted to listen to what people were bringing to the space, and turn it into song.
So when he heard one group shouting, "Build bridges, not walls!" and another group chanting curses in response, he created a song on the spot, taught it to the crowd, and people started singing and dancing.
Jonathan travels around Arizona, southern California and Mexico with his piano in his van, singing his song, "Build the Brides, Take Down the Walls" and having conversations that build bridges.
One of my favorite parts of CGOTB was eating (no surprise here). Not just the food, but the company and the settings. Lunch one day was at an amazing hole-in-the wall called Cocina La Ley (today even holes-in-the-wall have websites).
Seafood tacos were ridiculously good, and Jonathan Best and I were having one of those life-sustaining conversations outside near a fountain.
At dinner, most locals thought it was too cold to sit outside, but I was thrilled, on a January evening, to eat veggie burritos from a local restaurant on the church patio. I happened to end up eating with the setup / cleanup crew, my favorite hardworking people, who immediately recruited me into their ranks.
I felt so at home bussing tables and folding tablecloths. When the guys started complaining about moving all the round tables into a closet, I told them about the crew at UCCB that - until recently - rolled tables up a flight of stairs and into another building. I think they might be willing to make donations to the renovation.
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