Chapter III
Mattie could hear the chants from her kitchen.
She deposited her dinner dishes in the sink, and took a deep breath. Well, it was eight o'clock. She had to do it. She had to go out there and make sure they were all right. There was no way she could even think of going to bed without knowing what was going on, even with her ridiculously early seven o'clock class in the morning. She was glad that she'd chosen a warm outfit that morning. Her long, brown corduroy skirt and green turtleneck, as well as brown stockings and her brown boots would work for the cold New Hampshire night. She walked over to the front door, taking her coat out of the closet. She shrugged on the ankle-length, black wool coat and buttoned it up. As she pulled on her black gloves, she wondered how long the protest would last. An hour? Two? The students had classes in the morning and there was that student curfew of nine o'clock on weekdays. She headed out the door, and pulled the faux-fur-rimmed hood up over her head, then thought better of it and pushed it back on her shoulders, immediately causing strands of her hair to stick out and cling to her face from the static, and she smoothed them back from her eyes and cheeks.
The cold air felt clear and crisp on her face as she walked down the stairs and headed away from the faculty housing that bordered the west side of the campus. She looked around her as she walked purposefully down the dimly-lit sidewalk, noticing the orbs of gold light emanating from the quaint globes atop the black lamp posts set at intervals along the sidewalk. The hazy light cast moving shadows of the leafy branches on sections of the sidewalk and her breath condensed in the air as she pushed open the tall, black wrought iron gate of the fence that separated the faculty quarters from the campus, and headed toward the quad. She looked up and saw the half moon and stars through the thinning leaves. The increasingly loud chants of 'NO MORE WAR! NO MORE WAR!' came to her ears as she continued her resolute trek, and she suddenly felt very alone in the darkness and dug her right hand in her pocket. There were no others walking around in this area that she could see, and she squinted and looked around her as she walked, aware of the beauty and strange stillness of the night, save for the tapping of her cane and the chants that now grew louder and louder as she approached the rear of the row of gray stone buildings, backlit by the brighter lights of the quad. They must be in front of the Administration Building, which would make perfect sense. She could see movement beyond the buildings, and the silent, flashing blue lights of a police car near the south row of buildings to her right caught her eye. So President Buckley was being proactive, it seemed, and was not going to take any chances. He was sending the students a silent warning. At least it was only one squad car, not a fleet. She wondered if he would show up to talk to the students or just try to ignore them, hoping it would all go away. But she knew it wouldn't. It could only get worse from this point on. She stopped for a moment and held on to the side of a black metal bench by the sidewalk to catch her breath, surprised that she'd tired so much from the walk, and as she watched her breath condense, the chanting stopped and she heard the strumming of a guitar and a young man began, haltingly at first, to sing.
She'd heard that song before. What was the name of it? A well-known artist had sung it on a variety show. Mattie walked down the sidewalk between two of the buildings and entered the quad, turning her head to the right and seeing two policemen leaning against their squad car, casually smoking cigarettes, their white shirts visible under their open jackets turning shades of blue from the glare of the flashing lights. She turned to her left and walked along the sidewalk toward the protesters.
She remembered that song, "The Big Muddy." The captain was meant to be Lyndon Johnson, and of course the Big Muddy referred to his escalation of the Vietnam war...as he led the country ever deeper into the mire until there was no way out. There must be a hundred or more students here, she thought as she neared the administration building at the top row or northern side of the quad. She walked alongside the kissing rock, listening to the plaintive ballad.
"Professor Shaw."
She looked up as she heard her name whispered, to see four of her Tuesday morning students huddled together at the top. She nodded seriously and returned their waves, and proceeded on toward the Administration Building, where the young man who was singing stood on the top step with part of the crowd sitting on the steps below him and the rest standing on the grassy section in front of the building. As she neared the building, she was amazed to see that the young man singing was Matthew, and she didn't know whether to smile or cry at his heartfelt rendition. How brave of him. She left the sidewalk and stood under the cover of one of the maple trees, spellbound, as his voice, now more sure and steady, carried over the silent campus and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers and held up their protest signs with the phrases "No More War' and 'Make Love Not War" as he finished the song. She lowered her gaze and took a long breath, and as she lifted her eyes, noticed a tall figure to her left, leaning casually against one of the large evergreen trees in front of her art building. She turned her head slightly and squinted at him from the corner of her eye. Was he a parent? No, he looked too young to have a college-age child. She noticed that he was wearing a dark knit cap, blue jeans, and his hands were dug into the pockets of a black peacoat. Did she know him? She frowned as she realized that he'd turned his head and she saw the white glint in his eyes, now focused intently on hers. Even in the darkness, she could see that his gaze was serious and she frowned, curious as to who he was. She sighed, annoyed with herself, and turned her head quickly, reaching one hand up to pull the fur-rimmed hood up over her head. She tucked her hair inside the black hood, and steadied herself with the cane, focusing her attention on Matthew and a young lady who had joined him.
"We're going to sing a ballad by Bob Dylan called "Masters of War." Matthew proclaimed. "This is from nineteen sixty-three." They strummed their guitars and began to sing together.
Mattie took a deep breath, enthralled with their earnest rendition.
"This is not a pick-up line, I swear to God, but don't I know you?"
She jumped slightly as she heard his deep whisper and she turned her head to the left from within the fur-lined hood to see the man standing beside her. She pulled the fur part of the hood back to see him more clearly in the dim light, and looked up, startled at the intensity of his stare. His dark eyes were narrowed, and his lips were straight and tight as he looked down at her.
"No, I don't think so," she whispered back, shaking her head for emphasis and she immediately turned her head and pulled the edge of the hood forward so her view of him was obstructed and she stared at the students as they sang.
"Why are you here, eh?" His deep whisper made her cringe and she moved a step away from him to her right.
"I don't think that's any of your business," she whispered without turning her head. She refused to look at him, and she stared at Matthew and the girl, trying hard to concentrate on their song.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you."
Mattie heard his whisper once again, and she took a nervous breath and turned her head toward him, but he was gone. She huffed softly and turned her attention back to the steps of the Administration Building and the students.
They finished to even louder applause, and sign-waving. The man had made her very nervous and now she was anxious for the demonstration to be over. At least, to her relief, everyone was calm and orderly so far, and she hoped it continued. She was so proud of Matthew. She actually wished that she could join in the applause, but she kept one gloved hand on her cane, and the other in her coat pocket. Another student took Matthew's place and talked passionately about the war's effects on New Hampshire and a small group of students rose from the steps and surrounded him, softly intoning the names of those lost in combat from their state alone as he continued his emotional plea for peace.
She saw that Matthew and the girl were returning with their guitars. He thanked everyone for their support and attendance, and invited the crowd to sing along wit
h them on their last song..."Blowin' in The Wind." They strummed their guitars, and the duo began.
Mattie heard the students' voices as they hesitantly joined in, then their voices swelled as everyone stood and joined hands, and she found that she was singing along softly, tears in her eyes, her face hidden from view within the hood.
She wiped the corner of her eye with her gloved finger, as the moving rendition of Bob Dylan's popular song continued. Mattie's voice cracked and she rubbed her lips and fell silent, too emotional now to sing along, so she listened silently to their brave voices, united in a cause that she was just beginning to fully understand. The song ended, and Matthew and the girl waved, and everyone silently walked down the steps, and the others on the quad drifted off, arm in arm toward the men and women's segregated dormitories on the east side of the campus.
She stood for a moment in deep thought, replaying in her mind what she'd just witnessed. She took a deep breath and exhaled a large cloud of condensation as she scanned the quad. The squad car's blue lights were off, and the vehicle had turned around and was slowly leaving the campus. The quad was almost empty now, and eerily quiet. She'd accomplished what she had set out to do and it was time to head back home. As she turned to retrace her route back to the faculty housing, she saw the man again, standing under one of the street lamps next to the kissing rock, noticing that he was adjusting a camera that hung from a neck strap, resting on the front of his coat. She bent her head and walked down the sidewalk, seeing to her chagrin that he lifted his head to watch her as she passed. She turned right and walked between the two gray stone buildings and stopped for a moment at the black bench, looking back to make sure that he wasn't following her. Why was he there? Perhaps she should have walked over and demanded to know who he was and why he was at her campus. Something just seemed odd about it all. He didn't seem to belong there.
Mattie waited for a moment, then, satisfied that she would be alone, continued her walk back to the house, absorbed in her thoughts, and she sighed as she walked up onto the porch and unlocked the white front door. She entered the warmth of her home, pushed back the hood and shook her hair loose, set her cane up against the wall, and removed her coat and hung it in the hall closet, stuffing her gloves in the pockets. Rubbing her hands together, she leaned against the door, emotionally spent, realizing soberly that she'd been so busy with her career and her personal life the past few years that she'd stayed on the fringes of the realities of the war. It had been a news story to her, a sad and frightening episode in the country's foreign policy that she'd read about in the newspapers, watched on the television, but it had never really sunk in...never seemed real...until now. Now it was real to her.