I was the only counter protester to show up today at a rally held by a bunch of stupid people who just got back from spending a week walking 75 miles in the desert heat to wail for the plight of the illegal immigrants dieing in the desert. The park they held their rally in is just 2 miles from the house, and I already had signs made up so I went. I was hoping to find some sympathisers there, but no luck. A lot of the illegal alien sympathizers came up to me to offer me water and ask questions and have some polite debate, and I'll probably be on two TV newscasts tonight as the lone protester, but I'm disappointed in my fellow Tucsonans for not getting out there and voicing their opinions. (it was 105 degrees in the shade however)

Taking a walk in migrants' shoes
June 2, 2006
Group's 7-day desert trek honors dead
CLAUDINE LoMONACO
Tucson Citizen
ALTAR VALLEY - Edgar Mascareño crouched below a mesquite tree on a grassy hilltop and watched as a long line of people with water bottles and walking sticks snaked along a dirt road below. The 20-year-old native of Sinaloa, Mexico, assumed they were migrants, like him.
Alone and lost after three days in the desert, with just a jug of yellow water from a cattle tank to drink, Mascareño climbed down to the group.
As it turned out, the people weren't migrants. They were participants in a 75-mile, seven-day desert walk from Sasabe to Tucson to commemorate the hundreds of people who die in Arizona each year trying to make the same journey as Mascareño.
The 75 participants in the third annual "Migrant Trail" included a Franciscan monk in a friar's robe, a black Army veteran in an orange vest, and 13-year-old boy named Ben Terpstra.
"Until you've walked this desert, you can't begin to know what these people suffer," Terpstra said, standing on the road through Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge. On a nearby hill, a deer and her fawn paused to take in the group, then darted into the brush.
Terpstra, an eighth-grader from Oak Ridge, Tenn., first learned about the journey migrants make, and the economic reasons they make it, while on a mission trip last year to Nogales, Son., with the faith-based organization Borderlinks.
"Nobody would do this for a little extra money," Terpstra said. "This isn't about buying a nicer car. It's about putting food on your family's table."
Terpstra and the others have been waking up before dawn to walk 11 to 16 miles every day. They left Sasabe Sunday and plan to arrive in Tucson Saturday.
Support cars with donated food from local churches and restaurants, such as La Indita on Fourth Avenue, deliver meals and provide water breaks every two miles.
Even with the support, group members said they felt the strain of walking in the 100-plus-degree weather.
Laura Elly Hudson, a 30-year-old seminary student from Austin, Texas, sat in the shade rubbing ice on the soles of her feet. The prior day's blister on her heel was bandaged, but a new, huge blister erupted Wednesday and covered the entire pad of a toe.
Joann Quintanilla, 37, of Fresno, Calif., had such bad leg cramps she couldn't continue and hopped a ride with a support vehicle to cool off.
"If I was in a group with a coyote," she said. "He would have left me."
Mascareño, whose companion left him behind, said he crossed the border for the first time last year and passed a decomposing body somewhere in this valley on his way north.
"The smell was so strong," he said.
He made it to Seattle, where he worked construction for five months before heading home to his wife and newborn baby, Mascareño said.
This was his second attempt to cross this year, and he was ready to give up by the time he found the procession.
Group members gave him food and water and called the U.S. Border Patrol at his request.
The walkers stopped around noon, not far from where Mascareño was standing when he first spotted them.
From under the shelter of a distant mesquite tree, he watched them unroll tarps and set up camp for the night.
"I'm awed that they would remember the people from my country who have died here," he said. "I never thought people from here were like this. I never knew you could be so kind."