Sarah Cantin | What's your excuse?

I've never been particularly drawn to activism. I always thought of it as unproductive: too extreme, too angry. So when I met the women of the Granny Peace Brigade Philadelphia, I was surprised on two fronts: first, that they were pragmatic and pleasant, and second, that they were old and liberal.

My grandmothers (whom I adore) direct their energies into their grandchildren, visits to an all-female gym and the Home Shopping Network. Oh, and I think the last time they voted for a Democrat was - well, probably never.

But these Grannies are different.

Ranging in age from their early 60s to their early 90s, these women believe more in action than in talk, and they dedicate much of their time to the cause of ending the war in Iraq.

And they've lived their political beliefs: Before retiring from medicine, one was a doctor who pioneered choice; another has frostbite in both feet from participating in so many wintry peace vigils; yet another lived in a Quaker commune while she was married to a Marxist revolutionary.

Eighty-six-year-old Ruth Balter and her husband took an overnight bus from their home in Rochester, N.Y., to Washington, D.C., "all the time during Vietnam," she tells me. "One time we scaled the walls of the Pentagon!"

By 2006 Ruth felt like she needed to take action against the Iraq war. So did Zandra Moberg, another Philadelphia resident. They found each other and began to find more like-minded women soon after. The enthusiastic response made Zandra realize that "this was clearly an idea whose time had come."

The Grannies got their official start through an act of civil disobedience. After trying to enlist at Philadelphia's army recruitment center and refusing to leave once (inevitably) turned down, the women were arrested and carted off to jail. The act didn't result in an overnight stay, but it did gain them some local notoriety. Their mantra throughout? "Take us, not our grandchildren."

At their biweekly meetings, they brainstorm events and discuss their current initiatives.

They hand out flyers and gather signatures for petitions regularly - in Rittenhouse Square in fair weather and Suburban Station in foul. They believe that change starts locally, and last spring, held an antiviolence rally at a drug rehabilitation center in Northwest Philadelphia. And almost every group e-mail ends with a list of relevant bills up for debate in Congress, so that the women know whether to request a yes or no vote from their representatives when they call in.

How many of you have ever called into Congress? How many of you even know who your representatives are in Congress - either in Philadelphia or in your hometown?

At Penn it's easy to forget that a whole world exists beyond the 18- to 23-year-olds who constantly surround us. And if you're a senior like me, it's also easy to fear that the best parts of our lives are ending on Graduation. So we could all use a bit of what the Grannies have to offer: not just the inspiration to be politically engaged, to find a cause and act in its favor, but also proof that life - meaningful, pulsating, intellectually aware life - can exist even when our daily routines are marked more by a pill box than a class schedule.

As Zandra wrote to me, "The Grannies will make you feel better about the fact that one day you will be old."

I'm still no activist, but I'll be voting on November 4 - and so should you.

After all, if these women can push walkers through peace marches, you can get yourself to a polling center.

Sarah Cantin is a College senior from Boston, Mass. Her email is cantin@dailypennsylvanian.com. Candid Cantin appears on alternating Mondays.

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