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Early in the Morning

posted Nov 28, 2011 8:19 AM by Vincent Halloran   [ updated Nov 28, 2011 8:27 AM ]

Whaddaya do with a drunken sailor?
Whaddaya do with a drunken sailor?
Whaddaya do with a drunken sailor early in the morning?

So goes the old sea shanty and the answers sung in response were many and varied. 
"Shave his belly with a rusty razor!" or "Lock him in the hold with the captain's daughter!" were certainly two options that seemed worth considering-- the former being a suitably mild punishment and that latter a rather dubious reward.

But what do you do with Occupy Wall Street?  So far you either support it or condemn it.  You either join it or encourage it, or attack, or ignore it.  Or you watch from the sidelines with either bemused curiosity or indignant disdain. 

Or a drunken and sobering mixture of all of the above. 

Today I spent hours watching  live-stream reports from the Occupy LA camp.  They'd received an eviction deadline from the police and were bracing themselves for the fight.  Word of the showdown seemed to inspire a larger than usual turn-out according to some protestors on the scene who occasionally seemed to long for the police to make their move whilst the numbers were strong.  But the police played it cool, and instead of trying to take the camp, slowly crept forward to clear the surrounding and adjacent streets, which the protestors had claiming during the long, dull night.  It was all fairly civilized.  Police were courteous, clear with their orders, and probably wise to settle for clearing only the streets rather than the entire camp.

The surprising lack of aggressiveness of the police prompted a few rumors that the evening was a sort of trial-run, and the police were simply testing the waters, and-- having taken notes last night-- will soon be back for real.

The bicycle in the picture above is one that I recently built at a cooperative bicycle workshop that recently opened (with the assistance of the mayor) near La Place de la Bastille in Paris.  It was a completely rusted and broken Raleigh that I stripped, painted and bought new wheels for.  It's parked at a Parisian "squat"-- which is an occupation of private (but vacant) property by anyone who can get inside a window and manage to stay for a few days (apparently the laws in France provide for this kind of "squatter's rights"). 

My favorite verse of the sea shanty that considers the problem of "What to do with a drunken sailor" is the one that advises "Put him in the long boat 'til he's sober!"  I'm not sure why.  I'm happy that the sailor got drunk.  After all, he's a good guy and works hard; it seems to be in his nature to get drunk now & then, and I don't grudge him his life.  On the contrary, not only do I celebrate him, I appreciate the challenge he poses to the rest of us: Now that it's early in the morning, what do we do with this guy?

We let him sleep it off.  It's early in the morning, and we have all day to plan our next move.

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