The Mother of All Marches

If my mother were alive, she wouldn’t be marching today.

She’d be in Reno or Lake Tahoe playing the slots, because that was her favorite thing to do on Mother’s Day.

She would have left yesterday from Oakland with a group of old ladies on a tour bus, her purse loaded with nickels, determined that this time she’d hit it big.

She never did, but she never stopped trying.

If nothing else, my mother was the most determined person I have ever known. Her only major failure in the area of what a poet called “the rough tenacity of purpose” was that she could never talk me into becoming a priest.

“You’ll never get to heaven writing,” she told me once, and I’m sure she was right. But I’m also sure that heaven isn’t a sure bet for a lot of priests either.

If my mother were alive, I’d have been on her back all day yesterday to forget Reno and take part in the Million Mom March against guns.

She’d have looked at me like I was mad. “You were a difficult birth,” she’d have probably said, peering at me over the top of store-bought bifocals. “You might have been brain-damaged.”

Then off to the casinos she’d go, crossing herself for good luck, determined more than ever to hit it big.

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I mention her today because it’s Mother’s Day, because women are out there marching against guns and because there are a lot of different ways to hit it big.

We can gamble on the possibility, for instance, that the Million Mom March will pay off by sending a powerful message that mama is madder than hell and not going to take it anymore. As one female legislator put it, “The moms in this country have had it.”

To emphasize that message, women are gathering at designated spots in Washington, D.C., L.A. and other major cities across the country to stage what is expected to be the largest rally in U.S. history in support of stronger gun laws. There’ll be kids and men along too.

What the march organizers would really like to see is the total elimination of handguns among the nation’s civilian population. That’s a distant dream. But tightening the gun laws would be a start.

L.A. participants are meeting this morning at the Westwood Federal Building and this afternoon at Olvera Street. In Washington, they’re expecting 50,000 marchers. In L.A., they could only guess at several thousand.

Today’s march is ceremonial, an effort to raise awareness of the fact that guns kill about 30,000 Americans each year. No gender, age or race is safe. Bullets are equal opportunity killers.

It’s a figure offered by Ann Reiss Lane, chairman of Women Against Gun Violence, who understands the nature of ceremonial protest. “Sunday’s march is an event,” she says. “The real work begins Monday.”

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While my mother would have preferred Reno to marching, she’d have nevertheless understood the determination being demonstrated today from L.A. to D.C. She never doubted that the end always justified the means. And once she locked on to a cause, she never gave up, except for me and the priesthood.

Though barely five feet tall, she was a fighter beyond what anyone would expect. I remember once when a mugger tried to grab her purse. She clung to it with the tenacity of a pit bull, screaming, kicking and cursing, as he half-dragged her down the street in a mighty effort to wrest the purse from her. He finally said to hell with it and ran off empty-handed.

My mother stood, bruised and bleeding, holding her purse high, a battered warrior proclaiming victory.

It is in her spirit that I address the marching moms today. I wish them the same determination that she possessed. I wish them the willingness to bet that they can triumph against the maniacal proliferation of guns and the lives those guns are taking.

I wish them my mother’s vow never to give up.

The gun lobby will attempt to mug you, rob you of your resolve and run off with it down the street. The NRA and the 2nd Amendment Sisters are waiting in the bushes.

Cling to your purpose the way my mother clung to her purse. Then stand proudly afterward and wave a fist of defiance at the running muggers.

I wish you sunshine and resolution today. I wish you a spirit filled with hope. I wish you fortitude and laughter and the willingness to face Monday.

Be strong. The whole world is watching.

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Al Martinez’s column appears Sundays and Wednesdays. He can be reached online at al.martinez@latimes.com.