The Beginning of the Antiwar Movement

In 1966, at age 14, when I was a freshman in high-school, I took Latin and found out Anti meant against. I made up the word Antiwar. I said to the teacher and the class, “I am antiwar.” They told me there was no such word and I told them, “I know. I just made it up.” The teacher told me no one would use it. It was a nonsense word. After I explained it to the teacher and the class the teacher said, “No one will use it,” and added, “Everyone is Antiwar.” I answered, “If everyone is antiwar, we wouldn’t have wars.” She told me to never use that word because she thought it was un-American.

I designed the peace sign, something I had worked on for several weeks after I made up the word antiwar, and I had kids hold up two fingers in a V and I told them that that gesture symbolized peace. I had seen newsreels of people holding up their fingers that way when World War II ended. I found out later that it was a symbol for victory, but I had surmised that it meant peace. I drew my peace signs wherever I could and wrote the word peace under it so people would know what it was. I taught other kids how to draw the sign. I had everyone in my high school greet each other with the V finger peace sign. My Latin teacher told me to quit doing that and asked if I was a communist.

Soon after I made up the word, Antiwar, I joined a singing group at the local college called Up with People. The college was 40% larger than before the draft. I knew there were boys who went to college to avoid the draft so I thought up using College campaigning and decided that was where I would hold an Anti War rally. No one had heard the word antiwar, so they weren’t sure what I meant.

I picked a day, and every time I was on the college campus I told the students there was going to be an antiwar rally on that day. The day came and I walked over a mile carrying oak tag, paints and narrow pieces of lumber and some of the students brought their own signs. I made up signs and slogans – ‘Make love, Not war’ ‘War is not Healthy for babies and other Living Things.’ ‘Leave Vietnam,’ ‘Send our troops home’ and the best one – ’the Whole World is Watching.’ I thought by pointing out that the US was in an unjust Police State, that would help stop the war. I knew that Europe was none too happy with us, and the rest of the world didn’t like us for being the aggressor. The rally made the newspapers. For the first time in the history of the US, regular people began questioning why we were in a Civil War half a world away.

The idea of antiwar caught on like it was a fire. Kids on college campuses began holding antiwar rallies. The government started saying that antiwar was un-American. Citizens questioning their government was to be considered subversive. That didn’t stop the rallies. Then a warning came that if people held antiwar rallies the government would consider them outside the law. The government would use military force if necessary. A college in Ohio decided to hold a rally regardless of the consequences. They were warned that if there was any violence the National Guard would be called in to stop it. There had never been any violence at any antiwar rally previous to this one so it seemed an empty threat. The National Guard didn’t wait to be called in, they were there the morning of the rally. Since I was the one who got the ball rolling, and got people to question the legality of the police state, the Moocs brought me to the Kent State Rally so I would be an example as to what would happen to college students protesting the war. I was in the parking lot walking toward the rally when I heard gunshots. I felt something sting the side of my face and I could hear it cut away some of my hair and ear. There were a few more shots. At first, I looked around to see where the shots came from but then saw that a girl was shot dead. I knelt down next to her and called for help. One of the boys who came to help had been shot as well. I found out recently I had been targeted for starting the antiwar movement by *John Alexander, who was the shooter.

I had been brought to Kent State of Ohio because they were having an anti-war rally and they had military men there ready to kill students because they didn’t want college kids protesting. The men in the shadows thought if they killed me that would stop the movement. It’s a miracle I wasn’t killed. The antiwar people were blessed on the side of righteousness because the murders at Kent State had the opposite effect. If the government wants to kill its own people, I surmised, I must be right, we were in an unjust war.

So at age 16 or 17, my picture was on the cover of newspapers for kneeling and screaming next to the girl who was killed at Kent State. The actions the government took that day horrified the nation and people who had previously thought the antiwar movement was something kids should not be involved in, began to move slowly into a state of oblivion when it came to war. Parents began to think twice about sending their boys to the military. Adults, too, began asking the question, “What are we fighting for?”

After three years of war and protesting, I went to College at the University of Maryland, just up the road from DC. When I was a freshman in college there were many protests in Washington DC. Many other people had taken up the torch of Peace and I didn’t have a hand in planning any of those rallies. The only antiwar rally I planned had been that first one at Montclair State and the one to come on May 3rd. It was always important to get permits or there was a chance of being arrested. The Beach Boys showed up at one protest to show their solidarity with us. They took out their instruments and began to play so my friends and I left because they didn’t have a permit for a concert, only for the gathering. Sure enough, police in riot gear showed up to make arrests. The riot gear was completely unnecessary. Then on April 24 there was a massive protest on the DC Mall, between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. I was asked to speak and only spoke for a few minutes when my microphone was turned off. I was handed another microphone and that one was turned off and then I saw a military person turn off the whole electric supply, which I was pretty sure was illegal. I knew there was another protest on May 1 so I thought what if we had those people stay until May 3, and not get a permit, and stop traffic? Things would have been better for everyone if they had let me speak.

I told people of the press because I wanted everyone to know that I wanted to stop traffic in Washington. I wanted to be clear that if you came to that antiwar protest that you could be arrested. The press did an excellent job of getting the word out and once again the National Guard was called in. The people who worked in Washington decided to stay home. All or most of the businesses in Washington were closed. No one wanted to drive in Washington DC if protesters were going to shut down traffic, traffic in DC was bad enough on Mondays.

All before this, Nixon had been told by his advisors that there were only a handful of dirty hippies who were protesting. All the man had to do was look out his front window to see what was really going on, but he never did. He thought it would be 100 kids trying to stop traffic and they could just arrest them all. He told everyone if they hit a protester who was stopping traffic they would not be charged. He told the Military to arrest the protesters. The military person in charge knew better, and without ever declaring Martial Law, he gave an order to arrest anyone between the ages of 15 and 30 on the streets and on the sidewalks on May 3rd.

This is where I feel that I am blessed. What happened was, the National Guard got hold of school buses, since schools were closed, and use them as Paddy wagons and they drove around arresting everyone on the sidewalks between the ages of 15 and 30. I never did see anyone on the streets. When I was arrested my friends and I were walking along the sidewalk to see if there was some place to get breakfast. I asked what the charge was and the officer replied, “Eating a banana.”

So what ended up happening was far, far better than anything I could’ve expected or hoped for, like a miracle, really. No one got hurt, but, I believe somewhere in the neighborhood of 3,000 people got arrested. So many people that we filled the Red Skins practice field and the Armory. It was a gigantic wake-up call to the White House that war had to end.

We had effectively shut down Washington DC for a day. It was almost magical watching the empty streets and the traffic lights cycle through red, green, yellow with no cars at all to respond. The businesses who decided they had to shut down for the day were angry, but not at the protesters. They were angry that these protests had continued for so long with no response from the government. Business leaders began asking, “What are we fighting for?”

Nixon realized that he had been lied to and decided to de-escalate.

Never underestimate the power of The Force.

*See the tabs at the top of my blog for information on John Alexander.

About Grace Gardener

Here’s my dilemma. I’m being abused by the NSA. My rights as a US citizen are nonexistent. My right to privacy is long gone. They have put a homing device and a microphone in my stomach, supposedly attached to my spine so there will be bone conduction. I have an X-ray picture of it. I was told if I take it out I will be killed. I doubt it, but still, it’s not a good feeling. If I go to the ACLU to complain, my phone call will be intercepted and my meeting will be recorded. If I confide in a friend about what’s happening to me, she’ll be killed. The NSA has brainwashed my daughters into not trusting me. They’ve been working on torturing them every week for the past 15 years. When I left in my RV they loved and trusted me, but now that I haven’t seen them in so long that now they’re afraid of me. When I was there, living with or near them, even though they were being tortured to hate me (that’s true), once they saw me again they were fine. But I can’t even call them. I know most of my calls are diverted, and I know when they try to answer, that’s diverted, too. But I don’t try hard and I can’t talk to them about anything meaningful because I know they’ll be tortured for many hours. And then they’ll be tortured, drugged and electrocuted to forget and when I talk to them again they’ll say, “It never happened.” NSA Agents are doing the same thing to George Lucas. I was told no one really wants to hurt George, but they “have to.” But they think he’s a nice guy so they feel badly about it. Well that’s something, I guess. But the Government and other cults should not have round-the-clock accessibility to agents who are trained killers and have had their free will taken away through torture and electroshock. The best agents have had their personality split, so one personality takes over to carry out “orders” while the original personality watches helplessly. There’s a better way to run the military, and I was about to get through to put forth my ideas when the order came through to kill the three Generals who wanted to listen to me: and to kill six special agents who had been listening to me. I listen to these guys and I wonder if they have any feelings at all? I know they do even though they’re not “allowed to.” They’re not “allowed to” complain, either, under fear of death. If they try to retire, they’re not de-programmed, they are killed! I watched the Clint Eastwood movie American Sniper about Chris Kyle and I’m sure I commented on it a lot, but my readership has grown significantly and I know I’m monitored and it’s the guys doing the monitoring, who I’m trying to help. Even tough guys need a little help sometimes. I wonder if the death of Cris Kyle, played by Bradley Cooper, was planned the way it was to get me to say something about it. Everyone in the NSA knows what happened. Chris was killed because he got out. Tragically, Chris seemed to be capable of healing himself with the help of his family and still he was murdered. The man who murdered him was under orders. True! I have many, many confirmations on that statement. The judge sentenced Eddie Ray Routh, Chris’s murderer, to life in prison without parole. The movie writeup says - “U.S. Navy SEAL Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper) takes his sole mission -- protect his comrades -- to heart and becomes one of the most lethal snipers in American history. His pinpoint accuracy not only saves countless lives.” Back to my dilemma, I can’t get in touch with anyone for fear they will be tortured or killed. You think, “I thought the US didn’t torture?” Well we do. My daughters and I are born and raised here. We are good people, we’re exceptionally good people and the NSA has a HUGE problem with that. The people who give the orders want war and we want peace, and they’re making us the bad guys? The only emails that get through to me are business and junk. Supposedly I get comments on my website that don’t come through, and I have to wonder if our military goes around killing anyone who tries to contact me? My phone rings all the time but not here. This was true when I was in NJ, too. Nobody got through to me. The call is sent elsewhere and other people pick it up pretending to be me and the women pretending to be me are nasty bitches. If I call someone and straighten something out, I find out later that the conversation never happened, I was really talking to someone in the NSA, and I have to get back to square one. Most times things are so impossible, I give up. I escaped my ex-husbands satanic cult only to find myself embroiled in the government’s cult. A much thicker, stickier web. They have kept my money from me so I can’t even get an apartment. That’s stealing, but they’re the military so nothing is illegal, not murder or theft. I feel if I call someone for help he or she will be killed or badly hurt. Just being my friend or talking to me can get you sick with cancer or dead. I think people who I have helped, or who have asked to help me, need to go to the press to tell them what a pickle I’m in . There are many people who have offered to help me over the years. Many have been killed. I don’t understand how a kid in a uniform can break into Steve Jobs’ house and inject his brain with liquid smoke, or some other carcinogen: and if he questions those orders his buddy will be told to kill him. They have to kill each other all the time. It’s so f_ked up I can’t stand it. Neither can the Agents. They don’t realize that “under orders” is meaningless. If they’re caught they’ll be tried for murder. Steve Jobs was a great man. No one, no politician, and no officer, has the right to murder any citizen, especially one who makes this country proud. If you know someone in the NSA it’s your responsibility to let your congressman know what this country is doing to him. They’re being treated barbarically. If you know my daughters please call them to lend an ear, because their memories are being erased in an attempt to make them cold and heartless and they’re suffering. Their memories are being erased and replaced with more horrible lies, and their ability to reason is gone. They used to be the smartest women on the planet. If you know George Lucas do the same. The man we were both speaking with, who George considers a friend, ordered some horrific things done to George. They are trying to change his personality so he won’t like me, or so I won’t like him, like that could ever happen, but in the meantime his health and his mind will be suffering. Listening to him will be helpful. He also has a homing device and a microphone planted in him. His whole house is wired because he knows me. If you’re a parent whose kid wants to join special forces let him know what he’ll be joining. I had someone with me get killed because he couldn’t kill his friend. I’m serious. Watch the Manchurian Candidate, especially the part where people are being murdered, but the men see themselves at a flower show. That’s what it’s like. A Clock Work Orange shows how it’s done. And Mel Gibson’s Conspiracy Theory shows the aftermath. NSA guys read my books and my blog because I may be the only friend you’ve got. I’d love to be able to take suggestions. I know I have to get all lawyered up, I’d like to sue the government for defamation of character and theft. That’s something I used to be able to do, but I’m powerless now. What you can do. God changed my name to Grace. I changed it legally in 2007. My slave name was Lynn. I was born Lynn Pezzutti, then I married Jay McDermott and I became Lynn McDermott, then I married Peter Mickelsen (now deceased) and became Lynn Mickelsen. Most of my friends in the entertainment industry think I’m Lynn Mickelsen. So now I’m Grace Gardener, and while I’m not a slave, I’m a prisoner of the state. If you’re a lawyer, see if you can get something going. I was thinking Amal Clooney could be very helpful. If you know someone in the ACLU ask them to read this blog. If you’re in my family, Doherty, Murray, Sullivan or Kelly and remember me from my Anti-War days and establishing Earth Day maybe there’s something you want to do. Let the NY Times know I’d like this published as a letter to the Editor. Publish first, contact later. Send a copy or link to your News. Good Luck, God Bless you. Rise Up! Think Peace. THE NSA AND THE MOOCS WON'T LET ANYONE GET THROUGH TO ME. THEY MAY EVEN HURT YOU IF YOU TRY. See the pages in the tabs of this blog, Grace Gardener, and, A Little About Lynn Mickelsen. If you know me and I don't get back to you, then the email was intercepted. Never talk to anyone claiming to be me without asking questions to be sure. All site posts beginning 4/1/16 will be on Grace-Gardener.org. I’m not doing this for attention. I have 107 broken bones, zero disks in my back, and I’m exhausted. I need to get through to the people who knew me for credibility: but the NSA blocks my every move. I have to have the same acknowledgement and respect for my judgement I had while I was a ghost director in Hollywood and when I was CEO of the Rand Corp. Rand has been able to keep my work anonymous and credited to other people so they can collect my pay and residuals. They figured as long as they’re erasing my memory, and taking credit for my inventions, music, acting and directing; they may as well keep the money I earned. Also, the money would be proof that I did the work, so they’ve kept me poor all of my life. The reason the conspirators made plans in front of me was because they were assured I would “Never Remember” them, their visit and the things they planned. They talked in a kind of code that I have since figured out. I would have turned them in after the meeting had I been allowed to remember. I have to operate the way I do to keep away from my captors. GRR taught me most of the tactics I use. (Now he won’t help because his memory of me is implanted.) I know it angers some corrupt NSA Officers, but it’s a fact that I was a prisoner and slave at the Rand Corporation, and the NSA helped and still helps to keep me that way. I have to make evasive maneuvers to keep me, my daughters, this country and the world safe. Meanwhile I have no where to turn. I still feel like a candle in the wind. https://youtu.be/uw6CIxD1pHo My name was Lynn Mickelsen while I was a prisoner in a blue house and slave of a “club” based in northern New Jersey. If you know me PLEASE DON'T TRY TO CONTACT ME THROUGH THE RAND CORPORATION OR ANY OF MY FORMER EMPLOYERS OR ANY CONTACT FROM MORE THAN 9 YEARS AGO. People who tried doing this are being killed. Some people know the cult know it with a name similar to The Builder Berg Society or the Skull and Dagger Society. There's a HUGE bounty on my head that the cult I escaped from has no intention of paying. The plan is to have me killed and then to kill the person trying to collect the bounty. I thought up the plan and the amount because I thought it was going to be the plot in a movie. I told the people who wanted the plan, "This is one movie no one will want to see." In short, anyone who kills me will be killed within 24 hours and will never see a dime. Now I'm RVing but I’m still a prisoner in that I can't get in touch with anyone, and no one can get in touch with me, except in person. I found out about the other life I’d been living during a grueling five-hour conversation I detail in my Book, ‘the Conversation’ The reason I knew nothing about my own life was because I suffered selective amnesia - induced by the cult that owned me - with drugs, torture and electricity. 'The Conversation' is available in paperback at Blurb.com. The ebook is free. I worked nights and weekends naming products, bands and internet services, or anything else the "club" wanted me to do. I would wake up in the morning and remember nothing about the work and meetings, and I never received ANY money. I could only remember my 9 - 5 job at a bank. I’ve written the eBook, ‘Garden of the Light,’ as a lighter, inspirational compliment to the eBooks – ‘the Conversation,’ and, 'the Truth about Lynn Mickelsen’ which are intended to shed new, totally different light on the current world situation and change the world for the better. Apocalypse is a Greek word meaning, ‘the Revealing of Ancient Knowledge.’ I consider the book, ‘the Conversation,’ as Apocalypse because it reveals the ancient knowledge. We'll have World Peace once we abolish child abuse. My view of Apocalypse has no battle, no war, no army. I believe the knowledge in ‘the Conversation’ is enough to save the world. The blog grace-gardener.org lists just some of the accomplishments I achieved as a slave, to let everyone I've helped over the past sixty years, who I am. I will finally claim my life! https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/380321 If you’re a George Lucas fan you may remember some of these strange stories that involve him. I met George on the set of American Graffiti; we got engaged when the movie wrapped. I was taken away and George was told I was dead. Five years later I was hired to figure out how to make Luke Skywalker’s farm vehicle fly. The people who handled me (owned me) forgot that I had worked for this director once before on American Graffiti and they told him I was dead. I arrived and solved Lucas’s problem for him and he tearfully remembered me and told me what had happened five years before. I stayed on the set of Star Wars long enough to name the Star Wars characters and solve another animatronics problem with Chewy’s costume. I was told it was time to leave and started to follow my jailers the way I had been programmed to, when George asked, “When will I see you again?” I began to say, “Oh, you’ll see me again,” but I realized I wasn’t certain of that because once before, when we got engaged, I never saw him again. So I turned around and started walking back toward Lucas and I asked, “How about now? Can I stay with you now? Because I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again.” George thought a second and agreed that I should stay. As I was walking back to him I saw his expression change and looked over my shoulder to see the man I had been following holding a gun on me. I kept walking because now I was sure that the story Lucas had told me about what happened five years ago, was going to happen again and I couldn’t allow that. Someone had obviously been playing with my life, and I couldn’t have that, so I kept walking toward Lucas and away from the man with the gun. Lucas’s expression changed again, this time his face was filled with fear and horror. I turned around and now there were three men holding guns on George Lucas. There was only about 20 feet of desert between us but I had to go with them in order to save Lucas’s life. So, if you’re a fan of George Lucas you may remember someone being stolen off the Star Wars set at gunpoint. That was me. Years later I was abducted and stolen from the Academy Awards. You may remember that incident - that was me. Years later I was abducted and stolen from the Elton John’s post Oscar Party that benefits his AIDs foundation. You may remember that incident - that was me. Years later Harrison Ford and George Lucas devised a plan to steal me off of the set of The Fugitive. This time I was shot with a coma drug. They used a hypodermic needle that went through my coat and slacks and into my thigh. Two bogus ambulance men came in a stolen ambulance and took me away. The only other time I saw George face to face was during the making of Howard the Duck. George Lucas and Steven Spielberg made that ridiculous movie to try to rescue me again, in case you were wondering why they made that movie. I was supposed to see Lucas again on a set of Indiana Jones but this time it was George who was drugged and abducted. This makes 8 times George Lucas tried to rescue me. I’ve spoken with Lucas on the phone only a few times over the past 40 years, and those phone calls and the conversations we had while shooting American Graffiti, are what makes up Yoda’s philosophies and Star Wars 7 – the Force Awakens. The reason the people who owned me don’t allow George and I to get together is because they don’t want World Peace. War makes them rich. The greed of a handful of people keep the word in the turmoil it’s in. The people in the entertainment industry know me as the woman with no memory and no name. If you want to know more about me, check out my blog www.grace-gardener.org; or read my free ebooks the Truth about Lynn Mickelsen, and, the Conversation. I‘m still trying to walk those 20 feet.
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