Check out a "Real Protest" occuring where it matters, at the Federal Reserve Bank in SF

Vatic Note:  this was sent to me by Jim Kirwan who is watching and keeping an eye on his home town for the new and real protest and legitimate protestors in San Francisco,  holding vigil down at the Federal Reserve Building every day now.  He received this from someone older who goes down every day to protest.   This is his report on the progress and vignets that occur and conversations he is having with other protestors along with their stories.   Its really very interesting, and sufficiently so, I decided to share it with our readers.   It gives you a flavor of what it feels like and how its going.   WE NEED MORE OF US OUT THERE.  So if you live near a Federal Reserve Bank, or OFFICES, then please show up and support the true effort and not the one manipulated and controlled by Soros and the bankers.  Thanks, and here is his letter,  Thanks Jim Kirwan for sharing.  10/10/11

"Dear Everyone,

While I'm still charged with The Feeling:

I just walked in the door from spending an hour-plus at the Occupy SF
encampment in front of the Federal Reserve Building in downtown San
Francisco.

It's raining here today, not hard, sometimes just a drizzle. Tarps
were strung in the overhead trees, keeping some of the encampment dry.
There were 50-75 people in attendance. I wore a sport coat and dress
pants and dress shoes and a white shirt and blue tie, to try to give
some varied texture to the scene. I stood in the line of about 25
sign-holders along the curb and held as high as possible my sign (one
side says, "We are the 99%," the other side says, "Police, too, are
part of the 99%.") In the hour I was there, not thirty seconds passed
without a car, bus, taxi, or streetcar blasting encouragement.newsham@mac.com"

The three women nearest me introduced themselves as grandmothers from
Berkeley, and said they'd been waiting for this movement for decades
now. A woman named Penny, somewhere in my age range, came over and
worked her way in among us: "I thought I'd join my age group," she
laughed. Her story, which she said she'd shared with Channel 7 a few
minutes earlier: "Fifteen years ago my husband and I bought a ranch up
in Tehama County. He's a heavy equipment operator. I'm a teacher with
a Masters degree. We put three kids through college. Now neither of us
has been able to find any work in three years. and we just. . . We
just lost the ranch. I bought a bus ticket down here. I had to be
here. I'm staying with one of my kids who lives here in town."

The chatter around camp was about the media (Channel 2 was leaving
just as I arrived) continually asking, What's this about? What do you
people want? One of the grandmothers said, "It's so big. . .
Everything is connected to everything else." Penny said she told
Channel 7, "There is no one-liner for this thing." I told her I think
that may wind up being this thing's one-liner. While we were talking,
Channel 7 was interviewing one of the long-haired campers. After he'd
had a microphone in his face for ten solid minutes, a guy behind me
muttered, "If they use anything he says, it'll be the six seconds that
makes him look the stupidest."

I'm sure it was because I was dressed so fancy, that several people
approached me and asked if I knew how this thing is organized? What's
going on? Is there a calendar? I said I have come here just about
every day for the past ten days, but it's the young people who sleep
here each night who are the key, the heart and soul of this thing. And
if you ask them, they'll say they're just taking it day to day, trying
to hold the space, and waiting for the calvary, the rest of the 99%,
to do what's in their hearts, and fill in behind.

[Last night, in my own Oakland neighborhood, a black woman who sells
Street Sheet newspapers, told me, "I seen you with your sign the other
day. That's good. Even Obama's talking about it now. Once you white
people get angry, something'll happen."]

Before I left, I sat down in the drum and guitar circle, wearing my
coat and tie, just as the group was starting up Bob Dylan's "Like a
Rolling Stone," which I first heard when I was 13. ("Once upon a time
you dressed so fine, you threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't
you?") Between lines the guy next to me -- he was 25-ish and had hair
down to his shoulders -- and I had a conversation. He started it: "How
you doin', brother?" ("scrounging your next me-aaalll!") I thanked him
for spending the nights here for those of us who are too old or
("you're gonna have to get USED to it!") too bought off to do it
ourselves. He said, "Thanks for coming, we need the wisdom." I said,
"I'm not sure I've got any of that ("took from you everything he could
stee-aall!") but I've still got a body, and I ("HOW does it feel?")
can still come down here and hold up a sign once a day."

In fact, it's the thing I most look forward to when I wake up each day
now.

THE COUNTER at humanbannersf.com

And now, let's see if the humanbannersf.com counter has moved from
112, where it was when I left to go in to the city three hours ago.
(First, a note about the counter. I don't have as much control over
this counter as I've had with the counters on previous events. A
couple of you have sent me emails saying that you are coming, and
you're bringing one or two or three more people, or a carload, but the
others haven't signed up. If that is your situation, please send me an
email, and tell me how many unregistered people are coming with you.
Thanks.) And now, let's see: 114. Well, it is what it is. Still
waiting for the cavalry.

Onward,

brad

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