This past Sunday, myself and about 225 to 250 people went to the Handcock Air National Guard base in Syracuse to witness against the drones (unmanned bombers that are remote controlled), the human cost of war and the evils of war in general.

I wore my trusty “Obamba” T-shirt, which was again very well received as it had been on Oct. 17 in Albany.

Besides publicly preaching the Gospel (always a joy), I got to see folks I truly treasure and had not been able to see in a while. Elliot Adams, just back from a peacemaking trip to Gaza and anxious to return. Carmen Trotta, from St. Joseph's Catholic Worker House in NYC. And much to my dumbstruck joy and amazement, Fr. Daniel Berrigan, SJ – one of my very favorite people on the entire planet. I was so happy to see him I cried. I knew Carmen had to have brought him, so I thanked him profusely. Carmen said that it was not planned; when Fr. Dan heard that Carmen was coming up to Syracuse (they both live in NYC) he wanted to come along.

At the air base we picketed and chanted. The requisite local constabulary were there to greet us warmly when we arrived; preemptively blocking off the entrance to the main gate. A delegation from the group brought along the letter we had all signed requesting the removal of the drones and a cease and desist of the bombings of Iraq and Afghanistan as well as similar letters written by others. The idea was to give them to the base commander, but she refused to come out, instead sending out an assistant to accept the written pleas for peace. After taking the letters, this assistant left at Mach II speed at least.

Fr. Dan, along with his brother Jerry, sister-in-law Carol and two friends tried to deliver their letters after the “official delegation” had delivered theirs and were rebuffed by one of the officers. The assistant was not coming back out. They stood quietly while the officer seemed to get a bit more agitated. Carmen, who is very protective of Fr. Berrigan, quietly walked up just to stand by the good Father and keep an eye on things, making sure that everyone was safe. The officer took even more umbrage, yelling that they (the police) had been very conciliatory and said something about Carmen “inciting a riot."

Inciting a riot? Say what? We had assembled to stop a riot.

I thought it might be a good idea to pray and started saying the “Our Father” aloud with most of the crowd joining in. I thought it would be a good way to show the officer that we were a peaceful group and in no way was there going to be any violence from us.

We saw Carmen kneel down – I guessed that he was praying too.

After the public prayer someone else started singing John Lennon's “Give Peace a Chance” and we softly sang that for a while.

Carmen was cuffed and put into a squad car.

My fellow peace activist and friend Wendy Dwyer started singing “Down By the Riverside,” a great old spiritual about giving up violence. She looked at me and said, “Come on Linda, sing!” And sing we did.

We got the word that a compromise had been reached: One of the guards would take the letters and our vidographer would film it for the proof that they were delivered. As soon as we dispersed, Carmen would be released.

As we left, several of the officers had very kind things to say to us. I thanked them for being there and keeping us safe. I also wished them peace. Standard operating procedure for me – I always thank the police officers at the peace rallies for being there and keeping us safe.

As we walked from the base, a guardsman followed along in a truck just inside the fence. We all found this rather amusing. I guess it gave him something to do.

Carmen was released with a citation for disorderly conduct (a “dis con” in street parlance) and I thought I heard him say it included inciting a riot. On one level, that's pretty darn funny, on another it's pathetic.

After the witness at the air base, there was a regional meeting to plan for what to do next, what the next action would be. I had had enough of peace meetings for one day. I asked the folks who had come with me, Denny Finneran (he holds the sign at the Saturday vigil in Saratoga that says “Old Fogy For Peace”), Jack Jacknowitz (we were arrested together on Oct. 5 at the White House – we call him “Notorious Jack” now) and Brenton Smith, if they'd like to go get dinner.

“I know of a fabulous place for barbecue in Syracuse,” I told them. They were game and off we went to the Dinosaur Barbecue and Grill.

Not only is this place a great restaurant with fabulous barbecue and fantastic food (they make all their own food, including desserts, the litmus test for me), it is also a biker bar. Biker as in Harleys, black leather and tattoos. Second helpings on those last two.

After a great meal (nothing like ribs and beer after a peace march) I was outside admiring the assembled “hogs” (bikes) when a very tall (6'4”) young man dressed in aforementioned leather and various skin pigments and asked. “What should we do?”

About the bikes?, I thought to myself.

“Should we tuck our tails between our legs and run?”, he asked.

Took a minute – but I then realized that he was talking about my shirt.

“If it were my child or myself that was getting shot at, I'd say, 'yes, let's get out. If it was a bad idea to go in there why is it a good idea to stay?' ” I asked. “I just came from a peace meeting with people who have been to both Afghanistan and Iraq and the people of those countries want us to leave; we're making things worse. Besides,” I told him, “I am a Christian and I believe that Jesus calls on us to care for one another, not kill each other.”

He went on to talk about those “9/11 bombers” and what they did to us.

I informed him that the “9/11 bombers” were not from Iraq, they were from Saudi Arabia, and we're still real buddy-buddy with that country.

He told me how he took great offense at the fact that the mastermind of the 9/11 bombings was going to get a civil trial in NYC.

I asked him if he did not put his life on the line in the military to uphold our constitutional rights.

“But this guy is not an American,” he protested.

I responded that we were once known around the world for upholding justice. That in America, even if you were a foreigner, you got the same due process and rights as a citizen. We were revered for that. “Why give that up?” I asked.

“Besides," I repeated, “I am a Christian and it is not OK to kill people.”

“I am a Christian too," he said, “and I'm a veteran.”

“I'm a veteran too," said Denny, who had come up behind me. (Thank you Jesus!)

“Didn't Jesus say 'blessed are the peacemakers?' and 'what you do to the least of my people you have done to me?' ”

The biker got quiet. I said, “God bless you” to him and he walked away.