It was freezing cold last Saturday at sundown, five degrees Fahrenheit and windy, especially on the bridge. But I had dressed for it! I got out my long black thrift-store special down coat with just a few white feathers finding their way out—proud of my bargain that was doing its job.

I doubled up on hats: A really warm wool cap that tied under my chin, with the down hood from the coat for extra cover, tied by a long white wool scarf. All of which covered everything else, from wool socks to pants to tops. I wasn’t sure anyone else would be there, but I was: wool-ready! 

If young Swedish activist Greta Thunberg could do it, sitting outside for weeks, then I could, once a week, here on the bridge, standing alone, if I had to—this time.

But I didn’t have to. No sooner did I light my candle than people started coming, one by one by two, each getting a candle or a sign from the trunk of my car—or both if they felt robust enough. Some were more courageous and spread out a bit along the bridge, but the wind was brutal and I was still so cold. I huddled with others under the guise of greeting them as they arrived. We held our LED candles and our signs that blocked the wind, greeted each other and talked, some literally chattering away.

The signs we held read:

In Memory of the 10,000 Children Killed—and with Hope (The number is now 11,000 and continues to grow each week.)

There is No Way to Peace; Peace is the Way

Cease Fire to Save Palestinian and Israeli Lives

Cease Fire Now—from Jewish Voices for Peace

Start Seeing Palestinian Children, a sign I still had from a 2002 demonstration on the bridge that read “Start Seeing Iraqi Children.” I simply pasted “Palestinian” over “Iraqi”—the horrific reality that the most innocent continue to pay the price, no matter what country, color or tribe.

Because I am Jewish and cannot be accused of being antisemitic, I feel an extra responsibility to speak out. Antisemitism: that, too, is on the rise, along with the lies—the misinformation, disinformation, whatever description to blunt its impact and make it more palatable—we are being lied to. Again. And still.

How do we find the truth? First, of course, we have to want to. 

We need to be open, to study history, the facts that form the basis of opinions and to decipher facts from opinions. 

We need to be willing to listen to opposing views without attacking.

We need to gather together, as a community, and decide to learn together—through study groups, reading, sharing information here.

We need to educate ourselves.

I and members of the community have been gathering on the Narrowsburg Bridge every Saturday at sundown since December 23—except one, due to storm conditions—and will continue until the slaughter ends. We are Jews, Palestinians, Iranians, Native Americans and others whose origins I have yet to discover. We come together to connect with each other and make our voices known to those in the passing cars. In solidarity, we meet, plan and listen to each other’s stories.

“We may not change the world, but we won’t let the world change us.”

That was the slogan from back in the Beatles/Bob Dylan days.

We do not need to replicate the polarization and attacks out there by bringing that energy and intent into our community here. 

We can connect and communicate in ways that are kind and respectful of our differences.

And that’s the view from this bridge.

Come, take a look and stand with us. Saturdays at sundown.

Beverly Sterner is the founder of the Upper Delaware Community Network and a lifelong peace and civil rights activist and organizer.