Cait De Mott Grady's opening remarks
at the 8th Annual PETER DEMOTT PEACE TROT
Good morning and welcome to the 8th Annual Peter De Mott Peace Trot!
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads – biological, chosen, honorary, those present in body and those with us in spirit. I’m going to briefly share a few thoughts about the quote on the t-shirt.
This political, economic, social, historical moment we are standing in feels apocalyptic. The giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism that Dr. King incisively named seem no closer to being conquered. We are destroying our planet – our water, air, and land. Black and Brown lives do not matter to this white supremacist system. We are waging endless war.
But in this darkness, we also see courageous acts of hope – of people, in communities across the country and the world, resisting.
For my Dad, resisting meant many things: from the personal discipline of living simply, to unlearning toxic masculinity, to living in community and sharing resources when our capitalist system isolates and tears at every human connection, and it also meant civil disobedience. It meant putting his body on the line, it meant walking
into prisons and jails and being in community with people labeled criminal, as he acted from his position as an Army and Marine veteran to call attention to the abhorrent violence of U.S. militarism. My Dad's actions were not isolated, they sprang from community, they built community, they were supported by community.
My Mom found the Thoreau quote on this year's t-shirt in a Letter to the Editor that my Dad wrote to the Hartford Courant in 1982, while he was in jail after he hammered on the missile hatch of a Trident submarine. A submarine with the firepower equal to over 1,000 Hiroshimas. When my mom saw Thoreau quote, she thought, that’s it, that’s what we’ll use. She felt it in her gut as she has with each of the quotes that we’ve used in past years.
Cumulatively, my dad spent a little over three years of his adult life in prison for his participation in civil disobedience, or divine obedience as he preferred to call it. Obviously, he felt strongly about embodying Thoreau's command.
Reflecting on his time in prison, my Dad wrote: "I realize, however, that nothing of good and lasting value comes without a price, and I have been privileged to be part of the worldwide struggle for peace and justice, along with so many others who have done so much. To the extent that we sit passively by during these challenging times—when the fate of the earth and all its life forms hangs in the balance, to that very extent we give our tacit approval to the forces amassed to destroy us."
When my mom and I talked about what it means to be a part of this struggle, we talked about how resistance comes in many forms and how deeply we need each other in the process. That resistance starts when
we begin to see the reality around us, when we see and name the connectedness between the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism. That our work is to build communities of resistance and to support each other in putting our bodies on the line.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads – biological, chosen, honorary, those present in body and those with us in spirit. I’m going to briefly share a few thoughts about the quote on the t-shirt.
This political, economic, social, historical moment we are standing in feels apocalyptic. The giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism that Dr. King incisively named seem no closer to being conquered. We are destroying our planet – our water, air, and land. Black and Brown lives do not matter to this white supremacist system. We are waging endless war.
But in this darkness, we also see courageous acts of hope – of people, in communities across the country and the world, resisting.
For my Dad, resisting meant many things: from the personal discipline of living simply, to unlearning toxic masculinity, to living in community and sharing resources when our capitalist system isolates and tears at every human connection, and it also meant civil disobedience. It meant putting his body on the line, it meant walking
into prisons and jails and being in community with people labeled criminal, as he acted from his position as an Army and Marine veteran to call attention to the abhorrent violence of U.S. militarism. My Dad's actions were not isolated, they sprang from community, they built community, they were supported by community.
My Mom found the Thoreau quote on this year's t-shirt in a Letter to the Editor that my Dad wrote to the Hartford Courant in 1982, while he was in jail after he hammered on the missile hatch of a Trident submarine. A submarine with the firepower equal to over 1,000 Hiroshimas. When my mom saw Thoreau quote, she thought, that’s it, that’s what we’ll use. She felt it in her gut as she has with each of the quotes that we’ve used in past years.
Cumulatively, my dad spent a little over three years of his adult life in prison for his participation in civil disobedience, or divine obedience as he preferred to call it. Obviously, he felt strongly about embodying Thoreau's command.
Reflecting on his time in prison, my Dad wrote: "I realize, however, that nothing of good and lasting value comes without a price, and I have been privileged to be part of the worldwide struggle for peace and justice, along with so many others who have done so much. To the extent that we sit passively by during these challenging times—when the fate of the earth and all its life forms hangs in the balance, to that very extent we give our tacit approval to the forces amassed to destroy us."
When my mom and I talked about what it means to be a part of this struggle, we talked about how resistance comes in many forms and how deeply we need each other in the process. That resistance starts when
we begin to see the reality around us, when we see and name the connectedness between the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism. That our work is to build communities of resistance and to support each other in putting our bodies on the line.
