So, a couple of days ago, I wrote about my exceedingly timid attempt at standing with those who actively oppose racism. I mentioned various fears—close proximity to others with the danger of contracting covid-19, violence, and such.

The thing that I actually should  have feared, I didn’t even consider: my attention deficit disorder.

Well, I’m not being entirely fair to myself. I did factor in my a.d.d. somewhat. I had initially planned to go to one of the protests in Cincinnati. It was at 4:00 p.m. However, knowing my proclivity for getting times, locations, and everything else scrambled, I checked again. Good thing! That was the time and place for the protest a week earlier! I felt that I had dodged a bullet, even if it was a rubber one.

So, knowing my tendency to get lost and be late, I left about forty-five minutes earlier than I needed to. I needed to allow for getting lost and finding a parking space. The parking space was no problem, but I did miss my exit, which likely cost me ten minutes. Still, I arrived half-an-hour earlier than the start time for the protest, 2:00 p.m.

Or so I thought. There were only a few people at the place where the protestors were supposed to assemble, and those few people said they were late. The protest march had started at 1:00. “No, I’m pretty sure the time was 2:00 p.m.,” I said. I checked my smart phone again, and sure enough, the time was 2:00 p.m. However, my heart sank into my tennis shoes when I realized that 2:00 p.m. was the concluding time of the protest. I wasn’t half-an-hour early. I was an-hour-and-a-half late!

I had a tremendous struggle with my inner voices at this point. They were wanting to call me some very unflattering names that involve words that I don’t normally use. I don’t think I entirely silenced those voices, but I did the best I could.

I found out from some young people at Tower Park which way the protestors had marched (toward the police station). I began walking in that direction. Perhaps I would at least encounter some of the protestors walking back to their cars at the starting location.

But even with my smart phone, I got lost. Apparently Mademoiselle Google thought I wanted to go to the Cincinnati Police headquarters, rather than the Fort Thomas police station. When I realized the error of my ways, it was already a little past 2:00. I retraced my steps to my car. The condemning voices in my head got louder. In order to shut them up, I tried to think somewhat logically. Well, I didn’t do a good job with this protest at all. What could I do? So, I made a mental list.

• I could give myself a little credit for having the courage to attempt this.
• There will be other protests. I could plan to attend one of them. Hopefully, I’ll get the time right next time.
• I am a reader and a thinker. Why not commit myself to reading books and articles (and listening to podcasts) that will help me to learn more about race relations in America?
• I am a writer. I can make some fumbling attempts at helping to change things for the better by my writing.
• What institutions that help improve attitudes toward and treatment of minorities might I help support financially?

As I walked along, I began to feel a little better about my ineffective debut as a protestor. I did encounter some folks coming back from protesting at the police station. I told them of my own ineptitude, and asked them how it went. “It was good!” they replied. “There were probably two-hundred-and-fifty people there, and it was peaceful.”

So, my first attempt at protesting was anything but dramatic. But most beginnings are pretty pathetic. Mine was, perhaps, more pathetic than is common. Maybe the important thing for me to remember is that it was a beginning. Now, I need to continue.