It is a commonplace truism that we humans will not turn off our tv sets, go outside and and raise a ruckus with our governments until shortly before the world is about to risk total annhilation. The online journal -Common Dreams- reported that 400,000 people attended the peace rally around First Avenue and 55th Street today (NY 1 claimed 100,0000.) I was there, as were people in 600 cities throughout the world, trying to get a hearing. My friend Drew Gardner suggested on his blog that some poets (we had our own feeder march) bring along some toy instruments. The sound of those instruments sent my memories straight back to the 60's. I remembered that at all demonstrations, be-ins, love-ins you would hear the sound of ocarinas, recorders, flutes, tabourines ("Hey Mr. Tambourine man play a song for me," sang Bob Dylan). These small sensual details lead back into countless memories, innumerable moments and feelings, otherwise lost. It is that need to just live that preserves what I have sometimes called the necessary "forgettery" that corresponds to our tendency to preserve a growing store of painful memories. Other associations redolent with the 60's: pointed, frequently very interesting, hearfelt conversations with strangers.The woman who noticed us walking with our protest signs, stopping us momentarily with smiles and congratulations; the man who deftly and intelligently presented us with a Palestinian's point of view on dissident politics as we rode uptown together on the subway.