It’s crowded. It looks like one of those parties in a Woody Allen film. Customers banter and bump into each other; Art Tatum plays on the radio. There is lots of tweed and Burberry plaid. I thought I’d feel festive coming to the ribbon-cutting; instead, I feel small in my dingy down jacket. I wish I’d dressed up. I liked the “preparing” part better. I liked getting in on the ground floor, when the shop was a secret, a magic portal, and I was Lucy finding Narnia. Now it’s been taken over by people who smell of brandy instead of sawdust.
The Revolution is coming and it is a very beautiful revolution. It is beautiful because, in its deepest sense, it is quiet, gentle, and all pervasive. It KNOWS. What is most important in this revolution will require no guns, no commandants, no screaming “leaders,” and no vicious publications accusing everyone else of being counter-revolutionary. The revolution comes when two strangers smile at each other, when a father refuses to send his child to school because schools destroy children, when a commune is started and people begin to trust each other, when a young man refuses to go to war, and when a girl pushes aside all that her mother has ‘taught’ her and accepts her boyfriend’s love.