Tag Archives: Searsboro

Climate Justice Unity March: Day 3

April 26, 2017 by Ed Fallon
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Monday, April 24, 2017 – Montezuma to Searsboro (9.5 miles) Searsboro is one of those small, forgotten Iowa towns bypassed by the main highway. It’s a sprawling community of 142 people, built on hillocks tucked away in a valley along English Creek. I’ve driven by Searsboro dozens of times, wondering what it was like but never bothering to stop. From the highway you see only a few of Searsboro’s houses. Today, as our march winds its final mile over and around several steep, rolling hills, Continue reading →

Climate Justice Unity March: Day 4

April 26, 2017 by Ed Fallon
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Tuesday, April 25, 2017 – Searsboro to Sully (8.5 miles) As I pack up my tent this morning, Sarah informs me that she woke with a pit in her stomach, an odd sense of foreboding. She’s spoken with Shelley Buffalo and Fernando Manakaja as well, and they also have the same sense of unease — an intuition that someone or something may try to harm us today. I take their intuition seriously. Our marching column is tight, and we walk two-by-two on the gravel shoulder Continue reading →

Climate Justice Unity March: Day 4

April 25, 2017 by Ed Fallon
No comments
Tuesday, April 25, 2017 – Searsboro to Sully (8.5 miles) As I pack up my tent this morning, Sarah informs me that she woke with a pit in her stomach, an odd sense of foreboding. She’s spoken with Shelley Buffalo and Fernando Manakaja as well, and they also have the same sense of unease — an intuition that someone or something may try to harm us today. I take their intuition seriously. Our marching column is tight, and we walk two-by-two on the gravel shoulder Continue reading →

Climate Justice Unity March: Day 3

April 25, 2017 by Ed Fallon
No comments
Monday, April 24, 2017 – Montezuma to Searsboro (9.5 miles) Searsboro is one of those small, forgotten Iowa towns bypassed by the main highway. It’s a sprawling community of 142 people, built on hillocks tucked away in a valley along English Creek. I’ve driven by Searsboro dozens of times, wondering what it was like but never bothering to stop. From the highway you see only a few of Searsboro’s houses. Today, as our march winds its final mile over and around several steep, rolling hills, Continue reading →