At the huge Climate March in September of 2014 in New York City, I spotted a street vendor making a phone call as he watched—as he witnessed—an endless parade of exuberant young people marching past his hot dog stand.
Perhaps he had run out of ketchup and was ordering another couple of big jugs. Or perhaps he had run out of buns.
No, I think that this man who had stood on a street corner for many years and who had seen it all, today saw something absolutely new. He listened to the chanting voices, he listened to the beating drums, and he watched the kids of every ethnic background as they marched together with their banners. He had grandkids of his own, back in the Bronx.
So he made a call to Washington, got the Big Guy on the line, to let him know that a billion kids around the world where about to change the course of human history.