Stonewalk

Stonewalk for peace
Marchers pulling granite slab to New York met with indifference, hope in Rhode Island
By Michael Levenson, Globe Correspondent | August 7, 2004

CHEPACHET, R.I. -- A crew of people dressed in orange vests and sneakers pulled a 2,000-pound tombstone Thursday past farmhouses and trailer parks, a scene of gravity and levity evocative of both Sisyphus and a New Orleans funeral procession.

Pumping arms and legs, the dozen or so people strained to haul the load past mailboxes decorated with shamrocks and bald eagles, as pop and rap music blared across the farmland from speakers mounted on the back of the wagon bearing the stone.

Here, on Route 102 south, idealism in the form of Stonewalk, a mission launched by peace activists and family members of the victims of the Sept. 11 attacks, met the indifferent, bewildered, and occasionally supportive populace of rural New England.

The Stonewalk marchers have vowed to lug a 6-foot granite slab weighing a ton some 220 miles, through tiny communities and big cities, from the Democratic National Convention in Boston to the Republican National Convention in New York. Thirteen days of pulling had brought them to Chepachet.

Most porches lining the highway remained empty as the caravan rolled past, the residents occupied or oblivious to the parade. A few men in truckers' hats and women clutching their children's hands squinted and pointed. Drivers sped past, eyes riveted to the road. Some honked and waved. A police cruiser trailed the band; the officer behind the wheel said he had no idea why they were marching.

"What are they doing? I saw it rolling in, and I had no idea what it was. I saw it had Sept. 11 on it," said Steve DiLorenzo, a 25-year-old excavator watching from the side of the road. "I think it's a good idea. They're doing something about it. Somebody needs to do a memorial or something."

For the marchers, some of whom are making the entire trek from July 25 to Sept. 2, while others drop in and out, the journey is a physical, political, and personal challenge. For them, it's as immediate as making it up the next hill en route to Manhattan and as ambitious as changing a nation and a presidential election. It is, the marchers say, protest, group therapy, and extreme sports rolled into one.

Their message inscribed on the stone's face, "Unknown Civilians Killed in War," is intended to commemorate innocent victims of violence, war, and terrorism around the globe. The walkers say they hope to eventually place the stone next to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery.

For townspeople along the way, the impact of the passing stone pullers has been as varied as the nation's sentiments toward military action overseas. Some people extend their middle finger or yell, "Go Bush!" Others offer a place to stay or a hot shower. Some call the police and complain of trespassers when the wagon stops for a break.

The walkers count the tiny gestures of support, a wave or a peace sign, as prayers for peace, signals that the nation is turning slowly against war.
"Everybody that goes by, looks, and they think about what's going on," said Eric Wasileski, 32, a former Navy fire controller who became a pacifist after his destroyer fired Tomahawk missiles into Iraq during the Persian Gulf War. "You can't move a mountain at once; you have to take shovelfuls."

Some friends have stopped returning his e-mails, he said. Others are supportive.

But on the walk "I'm joyful," Wasileski said, "because I'm doing something that needs to be done. And I feel like humanity needs service now more than it ever needed it before."

Outside Chepachet, the marchers got an unexpected boost from Pat and Jay Inman, who came to push for a mile or so with their four children. "We just believe in thinking twice before going to war -- or three times or a million times," said Pat Inman. "So maybe it will help people think about it a little more."

As the wagon pulled into the Free Will Baptist Church for an overnight stop, a parishioner, 90-year-old George Steere, helped plug the extension cord for the wagon's sound system into a church wall socket.

Lewis Randa -- director of The Peace Abbey in Sherborn, which is helping to organize the walk -- pressed a brochure into Steere's hand. He promised to read it.

"I'm all for peace, believe me," said Steere, a farmer and World War II veteran. "I don't see any reason for fighting all the time. You don't get anywhere fighting, because a lot of innocent people get killed."

But Steere shook his head and said he doesn't believe that the walkers will do anything to change people's minds about war and violence. "People have got so many other things to do, they don't even think about it," he said.

The Stonewalk experience has been intense for Andrea LeBlanc, a veterinarian from Lee, N.H. As she pushed uphill, her head down, LeBlanc said she couldn't help but think of her husband, Robert, a professor of geography at the University of New Hampshire, who died Sept. 11, 2001, aboard Flight 175, which hit the south tower of the World Trade Center.

"My husband marched against the Vietnam War, and sometimes I feel like I wasn't there, so I'm here now -- and I'd think he'd approve," LeBlanc said. "All of us carry around so much emotion about all of this, and we try to keep it contained and in a box and let it out covertly. It feels good just to be able to push the stone for a reason. It's putting all your effort into it."

Two paces ahead, hands gripping one of the oar handles fixed to the front of the wagon, Dan Jones -- a social worker from the Bronx whose brother-in-law, William Kelly, died on Sept. 11, 2001 -- said he is outraged by the way both political parties have used the terrorist attacks to justify war in Iraq and Afghanistan.

"That's what's most troubling. I feel anger, violation, how dare you?" Jones said. "We're not out there bloodthirsty, looking for revenge; nobody should be doing that on our behalf."

His wife, Colleen, is codirector of September 11th Families For Peaceful Tomorrows, which is also helping to organize the walk.

None of the marchers is sure what to expect in New York: angry protesters, unsympathetic Republicans, or a joyous welcoming. In some ways, the destination is not the point for the marchers.

"It's putting your heart, mind, and soul and your body behind what you believe in," LeBlanc said.