For my recent birthday, I asked for a portable folding camping stool, and my adult kid gave it to me. I got to use it for the first time yesterday. It comes with a little canvas carrying case with a strap, and consists of a bundle of legs and struts plus a tough triangular seat with pockets in the corners for the struts.

I wanted the stool because though I can walk for miles, I can’t stand in place for very long without losing sensation in the outside of my right thigh. I could sit down on something, but sitting on the ground at my age makes me look eccentric or homeless. A camping stool says also says that I am eccentric, but it conveys that I have enough money to fund my eccentricity.

Anyway, the reason I wanted a stool was so I could hang out with other eccentric people.

There’s a weekly protest outside my Republican Senator’s offices in Center City Philadelphia. I write him emails all the time, explaining in reasonable words why I am upset about things the current administration is doing. He almost never replies. He is actually from Connecticut, a rich opportunist who just wanted to be an elected official. He ran for something else in Pennsylvania earlier, I think the governorship. The second time was the charm, but he doesn’t seem to see himself as our representative, not really.

Most of the participants in this little weekly protest are around my age. We joke about that. We are retired, and don’t have jobs to endanger, so we can afford to be arrested, we say. No one ever arrests us because we are little old ladies and little old men, with drawn faces and off-kilter shapes.

Some of the protestors speak over the PA. Some hand out leaflets or postcards we can send to the Senator. Some hold signs; some stand showing their signs to the passing traffic on Market Street. Often, drivers beep and wave in support. It’s lunch time in a business district, so people wander along the sidewalks through the little protest. A few of those smile and thank us. Others are silent, and look straight ahead.

One woman new to the protest started shouting at the silent ones, “So you support fascism?” and the leader of the group calmed her down and said we were trying to get people on our side. The woman settled down, but later started talking loudly to a tall older gentleman who was curious about the protest.

I had stopped going to this protest until yesterday. For one thing, I couldn’t hear anything the speakers were saying; the PA system was poor and also I lost my hearing aid, and using my AirPods as hearing aids made me look as if I was listening to music instead of listening to the speakers. For another thing, as I said, my right leg always started losing sensation when I stood too long, so even when I was going regularly, I generally left after twenty minutes or so of inscrutable exhortations on the PA.

But then the group managed to raise enough money for a better PA system. I finally spent the thousands of dollars that new hearing aids cost. Then I had a birthday, and my kid gave me a stool. Now, I was finally prepared.

Yesterday, I unfolded my stool and assembled it, and sat down, and it was a blessing. I managed to stay the whole time, because I could hear everything and because my leg felt just fine. Someone handed me a postcard, and I wrote a message to my Senator. I vaguely spoke along with the chants, though my asthma made me cough if I got too loud and I don’t like chanting.

But I was able to show up, and for that I was grateful.

My kid gives me the best birthday presents.