Were you there?

Live-blogging Cindy.
A woman who was with Cindy Sheehan on the first weekend of the encampment writes a powerful and moving description of what she experienced, posted at ePluribus Media Community:

Cindy Sheehan's trip to Crawford to talk to President Bush started out as just a small idea Wednesday evening. None of us thought for even a minute that it would snowball into the media and historic event that it has now become. Cindy, Dede and I thought the journey would be made by the three of us and maybe some veterans from the Veterans for Peace convention we were attending. Saturday morning we boarded the VFP Impeach Bush bus, along with a platoon of vets sent by VFP to go with us. A caravan of cars followed behind, filled with vets and others who had come to support us. The vets on that bus are some of the most inspiring, honorable and heroic men I have ever met. They inspired me and helped to heal my broken heart. These are people I had to explain nothing to because they know how I feel. They've been there. They've buried their buddies and seen the worst of humanity. I will forever have a warm spot in my heart for them . . . The local Sheriff of Crawford escorted us to the location for our demonstration . . . They made us walk in the bar ditch in knee high weeds full of bugs, fire ants (really nasty little things) and possibly snakes. The walking was hard. The sun beat down on us in the 100 degree Texas heat in the middle of the day. Conditions were miserable. But we pushed on. Cindy, Dede and I were in the front, leading our supporters. I don't know for sure how far we walked, and I've heard various reports from a half a mile to a mile. I couldn't help but feel we were the peasants going to the castle to ask for an audience with King George, only to be stopped and told the King wouldn't see us. So, we protested. We shouted. I met a mother who had come to support us whose son is in Iraq. We hugged and I told her I hope he comes home safe and whole. We cried together . . . Saturday night [Aug 6] we camped out in our cars, in tents, in chairs, on the ground. Wherever we could fall asleep, we slept. I think that when I went to bed there were about 5-6 people with us. We watched as Secret Service vehicles drove by going 50 mph all night long. Some other traffic came by, locals probably. We always knew the locals from the Secret Service because the locals slowed down when they went past us. We heard, via our cell phones, reports of bloggers keeping the pressure on the media and politicians. They blogged for us and about us all night long. We heard reports of candle light vigils, people lighting candles in their windows and on their front porches across the country. We felt the love, the energy and the prayers sent our way. It was comforting out there under the big star-filled Texas night, in the middle of nowhere, knowing that people around the world cared about us, watched us the best they could. None of us felt alone . . .

Liveblogging is also being done by William Rivers Pitt at Truthout where these photos are posted:

2 sons lost: Cindy Sheehan with Bill Mitchell at a Crawford, Texas, vigil. Both have lost sons in the fighting in Iraq. (Photo: Jason Reed / Reuters)
Other images from Camp Casey:



The Bush motorcade.

On Joe Trippi's blog, a post from former Dean campaign organizer Japhet Els from earlier today.

In the last 24 hours over 600 people have arrived at #43’s vacation retreat. The Crawford Peace House is a buzz with volunteers, organizers, veterans, republicans, democrats, greens and everyone in between. During the night, exhausted activists crowd the floor as the tiny air conditioner pumps out what little cool air it can. During the day signs are perpetually being made, banners painted and buttons and schedules passed around. The sign in sheet at the front door resembles a rough draft of a thesis paper as pages are tacked together for new arrivals. And there is a line forming behind it. People are pouring in from San Diego to Boston, Portland to Miami and everywhere in between. A guy just rolled in from Argentina ready to give us the shirt off his back. Its hot. Its humid. But the enthusasim and energy are rampant.

And Trippi is apparently taking on O'Reilly on Monday night. Give 'em hell, Joe.
All I can think of is this song: "Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble"