Occupy Olsons: A Report from the Front Lines

The "Occupy Olsons" protests have not been getting much attention in the media or from the White House. That's fine. In fact, I prefer it that way, because I'm not so certain the echo chamber media, Ivory Tower dwellers, the group thinkers of "The View", and various other cultural elitists (we call them "philistines" around here, but you know what I mean) would approve of how we handle the "Ocupy Olsons" protests, which are also known as "parenting" and "episodes of familial insanity and joyfulness".

I bring it up because I just read about how the City of Eugene and the University of Oregon are trying to figure out what to do with the unwashed, drum-beating, monosylabbic-muttering waifs and meanderers of "Occupy Eugene". The local newspaper reports:

Earlier Monday, a number of protesters dressed in Halloween costumes and makeup to resemble zombies, and then staged "die-ins" in front of corporate banks in the downtown and university areas.

Advocates of a move to ­Washington-Jefferson Park said the space would provide the room necessary to create an "eco-village" with sufficient infrastructure to allow for an extended wintertime encampment, and asserted that the location has the support of Eugene police and city officials.

A smaller number, however, said they were concerned that emphasis on an eco-village could detract from the primary task of staging a sustained and active protest.

The university originally wanted the protesters off its strip of land between Franklin Boulevard and the Millrace by Monday morning.

But UO officials gave the group all day Monday to decide on another place to go.

UO spokesman Phil Weiler said UO officials would like Occupy Eugene to move today.

"Our hope is that it would be sooner rather than later," he said.

Ah, yes: "hope". For Christians, it's a theological virtue; for politicians, it's a campaign slogan; for UO spokesman (shouldn't that be "spokesperson"?), it's a plaintive cry for help in a world filling quickly with winter greyness, body odor, and ... bowling pins?

By the way, I think the newspaper is mistaken: the protesters weren't dressed up like zombies. Nay, the zombies are dressed up like protesters. Which reminds me of a joke I just made up: What's the difference between a zombie and a protester? The zombies want to be among the living, while protesters don't try to make a living. They just talk about it. Hey, they seem to have a lot in common with most politicians; the two should get together and move somewhere. Out of state, preferably.

Anyhow, speaking of "hope", it's a word that sometimes comes up with the three young "Occupy Olsons" protesters (ages 3, 6, and 10). As in, "I hope, young man, that you picked up your toys like I told you", or, "I hope, for your sake, young lady, that you didn't forget to clean off the table", or "I hope I can make it to noon without being tempted to crack open another bottle of wine."

I've noticed that some of the "Occupy Eugene" protesters have promised to be protesting "forever". Fortunately for us, the "Occupy Olsons" protesters seem intent on occupying the premises for less than twenty years. In fact, this last week our six-year-old son interrupted his usual mantra ("I can't find any socks! I need some food right now! I want to watch TV!") to shout: "I don't want to live here anymore! I'm going to move out!" When no one responded or made any attempt to stop him, he hesitated for a few moments. Then he stomped off in search of some socks.

Our approach to the "Occupy Olsons" protesters has been, I hope (there's that word again!), uniform and consistent: we welcome them with love into our home and family, explain their various duties and responsibilities as they grow up, lay down the law when they get out of line, and require that they shower or bathe at least once a week. The latter is a big reason why there is no overlap between the "Occupy Olsons" and "Occupy Eugene" movements; we really do dislike body odor, filthy clothing, and the smell of pot. There's also the small matter of demanding that "Occupy Olsons" protesters do household chores, attend classes (there's no excuse: we home school and it's free), say prayers, show respect for parents and other adults, enunciate words, employ logic and good grammar, learn some Latin, memorize prayers and Scripture, and mock commercials for "Barney", "SpongeFace BobHead", and MSNBC.

Obviously, there's no way you could get an "Occupy Eugene" participant to mock those TV shows as they are the nutritional heart of their thin intellectual sandwich. No wonder so many of them put together a sentence like a chicken plays a piano: poorly, painfully, and with much squawking.

Granted, the "Occupy Olsons" protesters can be a tough bunch. Insurrection, coups, mutiny, and unflushed toilets are a constant problem. Backtalk, griping, and a preference for watching "Looney Tunes" over reading Hamlet are occasional issues. But they know the alphabet, can sing Gregorian chant and Old Church Slavonic hymns, have a growing grasp of mathematics, say the "Pledge of Allegiance", love Mary and the saints (especially Sts. Francis, Terese, George, and Dominic), and recognize that the writings of Noam Chomsky and Richard McBrien should be avoided or used as fire starter. They also know that living in tents pitched on a university campus is both silly and wimpy; a tent deserves to be set up in the forest, near wonderful wild animals, not crazy socialist professors. They also know that cardboard signs are fine for letting people know about yard sales, but shouldn't be the means by which you record your entire philosophy of life (with room left over for something about "99%" this or that).

In short, "Occupy Olsons" is an ongoing, joyful, challenging, and occasionally manic celebration of life, liberty, and the pursuit of holiness, a rich tradition rooted in the reality of the domestic church and a love for Christ and his Church. Our sustained and active protest, in fact, is against sin and selfishness and the enemies of the family, who are many, of course, but who are also on the way to ruin and defeat, even if it won't be until the Eschaton. In the meantime, our eco-village of five (not counting dog, cats, chickens, fish, and occasional mice) carries on, careful to stay out of the way of that poor, frazzled UO spokesman and mindful that Saturday night is bath night, no exceptions.