The Barefoot Bandit was arrested today, and I sat in my kitchen and read about him and his adventure. While he was commandeering planes from run ways, teaching himself how to fly just by putting himself in the pilot seat, flying himself to the Bahamas and living in the woods, I spoke with a convicted criminal about the best way to make an appeal. He was convicted of burning government property.

                The Barefoot Bandit walked out of the woods surrounding the runway. He must have had strong souls, just walking out onto the tarmac and looking for an empty plane. Night time he would have had the best options to steal a plane but the worst time learning how to fly. Like a werewolf pirate he must have acted the most on full moons, which makes sense because he escaped from a mental institution and they are all lunatics.

                As he was walking on cold asphalt, I stayed up late nights reading law books trying to figure out how to make the SUV burner free. Of course you must understand I thought the burning of SUVs also takes a great deal of soul, but there is an understanding from the Barefoot Bandit of who we really are when we attempt to be active. Thinking this was when I debated giving up my job. What does the active part of being an activist really mean?

                I couldn’t look at the case for the SUV burner for a week. I couldn’t bring myself to think about why this activist was in jail, all I could do was look to the Barefoot Boy, the one who knew more than anyone how free he was to just do the things he wanted to do. Then the activist was this person sitting behind bars, not all activists are behind real bars, sometimes activists are behind emotional, cultural bars. Barefoot started to make more sense than any activism ever could. I started drawing little barefoot prints on my work notes. Hidden between the pages of books about what is or isn’t allowed about activism are my little outlined feet.