It was Sunday afternoon. The New Windsor Little League games were just getting finished when the marchers started to gather in the lot at Kristi Babcock Memorial Park.
They arrived in groups. Some of them came with carefully crafted homemade signs. The messages were intended for the residents of The Reserve – a large development not far from Cornwall High School.
The plan was to march through the Reserve and then double back to Cornwall High School, where they would kneel for an eight minute tribute to the late George Floyd. The trek would end with a return to the park for speeches.
It took from 4 to 4:30 for the group to gather. There were about 50 people, a mixture of black and white, when everyone was assembled. Some of them greeted me by name. They had known me when they were in high school about a half dozen years ago.
I should have recognized them, but the masks made it difficult and time had fogged my memory. I knew a few of them had been outstanding football players.
The marchers greeted one another warmly – with fist bumps and corona hugs. They didn’t seem angry. But their signs told a different story.
If not us, who? If not now, when? – John Lewis
Racism is a disease spread through ignorance and hate
We walk with our ancestors
If you’re not livid, you’re not listening
If you are not angry, you are not paying attention
Black lives are worthy, beloved needed
One young woman carried a picture of Breonna Taylor, who was killed while police were attempting to serve a no-knock warrant. Another person wrote the names of several black people who had been killed during police actions.
The group ignored a light drizzle. “I guess we should get started,” the leader said at 4:30. He used a power megaphone to get the group’s attention and to lead them out of the park. They headed west, chanting “What do we want? Justice! When do we want it? Now!”
I drove to the high school and waited for them. Forty minutes later, the group arrived with a police escort. One car followed the marchers and two others were stationed at the high school entrance on Route 94.
As the crowd came up the hill, they sang “black lives matter.” The melody was familiar. It was the four notes football fans use to chant the names of their favorite players. So much had happened since the end of the last season.
