We took the train from Davis, CA, to the California Capitol to volunteer at the university’s graduation ceremonies. We crossed the causeway and the river on the Capitol Corridor (CC) train, landing in downtown.
I want to say many things about Davis, my hometown for the past quarter-century. I want to tell you about the ingenuity of the causeway and the beauty it attracts. I would love to tell you about the CC and how it connects us to the Bay and beyond.
But those stories are for another day.
On this day, we took the train that, by an apparent accident of time, was transporting people to graduation at the Golden One Center, the June Pride Festival a few blocks to the south, and the “No Kings” protest further south still on the Capitol Mall.
At the station, the first thing I saw (in addition to the 100+ people waiting to board the train) was a small sign carried by a protester
COMPASSION
We boarded and immediately entered a rolling party.
How can I describe it?
Every visage felt “open,” inquiring, alive.
So many smiles, so much laughter.
Every face bore the imprint of a history—a story.
Every voice a different accent, language, in-group vocabulary.
Every article of clothing a statement of loves and origins or hopes and futures.
Everything spoke of diversity—that much reviled, but actually quite beautiful reality that is California. And I wondered why anyone would not want that. I wondered why that word is so hated. I wondered why they could not just leave us alone to enjoy that one thing that brings us energy and smiles, and a constant sense of discovery and wonder.
Why?
The couple across from us heading to Sac for a pride weekend and fathers’ day celebration. Two scientists across the aisle discussing climate change and next steps in their dream to bring lasting change to the world. Beside them, two folks older than us with their water and hats, sporting signs of dissent. Downstairs, a bit later, three college pals kitted out in their regalia, my wife helped one fix his tie and straighten his collar. All smiles.
We breathed together on that train.
We “conspired.”
And though we all approached the capitol with our own goals in mind, there was a solidarity in acknowledging the importance of what, each of us, was going there to do. We all KNEW that everyone was attending a life-affirming and life-changing event.
And we celebrated that.
Across America at the same hour, millions lived in hate of who we were, with a clear desire that we would all just disappear.
But we exist.
And we will persist.
On that train that day, we celebrated our differences but also the things that bind us: love, solidarity, community, and hope.
Traveling at the Speed of Bike 