The Music of Bees Eileen Garvin (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

riding in the truck bed, Alice drove the boys to the county fairgrounds out near the high school, where the march would begin. About a hundred people stood in groups, chatting as they waited for things to start. Harry retrieved Jake’s chair, and Alice told them she would go check them all in at the white tent standing in the middle of the hubub.

As she walked through the crowd, Alice thought the atmosphere felt almost festive—more like a parade than an environmental protest. She waved at some of the guys from the bee club and saw sweet Doug Ransom with his oldest daughter, Victoria.

“Nice work, my dear,” he said, beaming.

Alice saw the young women from Riverkeeper, the fish and wildlife folks, and a guy from state parks. As she listed the names of her group for the young woman running check-in, she was surprised to see Casey, the red-haired intern, sitting behind her. He peered into a laptop while simultaneously typing furiously into his phone. He waved sheepishly when he saw Alice.

“Joining the resistance, kid?”

He stood and crossed his arms, hunching forward. “Well, my internship ends next week, so I thought, Why not? I’m doing social media for Stan. I’ll be live-tweeting the whole event.”

Alice nodded. “I have no idea what that means, but thanks for helping out.”

Casey ducked his head and went back to his screens.

Alice found Stan just outside the tent, frowning over a piece of paper. His face brightened when he saw her.

“Alice! Great day for a mutiny, eh?”

Stan asked her to lead the orchardists and the beekeepers during the march and pointed her toward a table where the Portland students had made signs representing the various groups. Alice found Dennis Yasui, Vic Bello, and a handful of other orchardists, along with members of the bee group. She called them together and handed around signs that proclaimed, “Marching for the Bees!” and “Two-thirds of America’s Crops Pollinated by Honeybees!” and “No Farms = No Food!” Soon, Stan hopped up on a chair in front of the tent, waved a hand, and whistled. The voices died down.

“Thank you, everyone! Thanks so much for coming out today to support the Hood River Watershed Alliance, PDX Riverkeeper, and the Clean Air Alliance. We are also joined by representatives of the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, the Mexican-American Workers Union, La Clínica del Cariño, and the Hood River County Beekeeping Association. And we want to thank the college students from PSU for coming out to help too. I know you’re taking time out from work and school to be here, and I appreciate it. Give yourselves a hand for standing up for the environment!”

The crowd clapped and whooped. Alice looked around at the smiling faces and felt the energy surging through them all. She felt like a part of something good.

Stan outlined the march course. The group would walk down Fir Mountain Road until they reached Randy Osaka’s driveway. They would not trespass, but they would block the road so that the spray truck could not get by. Stan reminded everyone that this was a peaceful protest and that no name-calling or violence would be tolerated. He said they could be arrested for blocking the county road. If anyone was having second thoughts about participating, he said, no one would judge them for bowing out. He looked at Alice. She knew this was true. Ron had talked to the orchardists as a private citizen, but he made it clear he couldn’t help her beyond that. She stood up straighter. She was sure of this thing. It made more sense than anything had all year.

“All right, then. Let’s get going!” Stan yelled.

He jumped off the chair and led the group out of the parking lot. Someone yelled, “Yee-haw!” in the back, and people cheered. Alice heard the beating of a drum. She saw Harry and Jake moving in from the back with Noah. She waited for them to catch up. Cheney, at the end of his leash, reared up and kissed her. People clapped along to the drum, and someone started singing “Give Peace a Chance.” Others joined in. The PSU students walked by swinging Hula-Hoops and waving rainbow flags.

The chill left the air as the May sunshine beamed down on them. They passed the high school, where kids stood in the parking lot waiting for the first bell. Several of them loped toward the lineup and joined in. Alice saw a lone figure—a lanky body and a shock of short hair—push off on a skateboard and coast down the hill. She stopped just short of Jake and hopped off. The kid was wearing his heart on his face.

“Hi, Amri,” he said.

“I thought it might be you,” she said.

“What gave me away?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “The dog, of course.”

“I guess you got my text.”

“Yes, I did,” she said.

“Hey, Alice, this is Amri,” Jake said. “Alice is our den mother.”

Alice snorted and nodded at the girl. She felt a surge of protectiveness for the boy. Don’t break his heart, she thought.

“Nice to meet you, Amri,” she said.

The march streamed down the hill and past the golf course. The Mexican-American Workers Union folks had started chanting “Sí se puede,” and the rest of the group took it up. Passing cars and trucks tooted and waved as the group wound down the county road. Alice saw a Honda pull over, and Pete Malone climbed out. He joined the stream of people, walking backward and snapping photos. A shadow fell across Alice’s face, and she looked up to see a large, long-haired man in board shorts and a hoody slapping palms with Harry and then Jake.

“Hombres! It’s a revolution!”

This must be Yogi, the kite instructor who wasn’t a kite instructor, she thought. His big face split with a grin. He did not try to high-five Alice, but instead shook her hand politely and then fell into step with Harry.

We look like the Bremen Town Musicians, Alice thought.

As they neared Osaka’s farm, the group slowed