I couldn’t resist. When I heard about the People’s Climate March in New York city, I just had to go. Much time had passed since I marched in a demonstration. Now I am a grandmother. I needed to do this for my five grandkids. They will be inheriting the earth, including our little piece of it in Chilmark.

Here in Chilmark, we’ve all been watching the rising ocean claim our beloved town beaches. Reclaiming Squibnocket Beach, where we used to take our kids and our neighbors’ kids, is very important to the town. Lucy Vincent Beach has been battered by hurricanes and northeasters and it has now become a place where people stand in shock before the falling-down cliffs.

Vineyarders came to New York to protest — a class from the charter school and a contingent from our local climate change group, 350MVI. There were others I don’t know about. We joined an enormous gathering of people from across the country who filled more than two miles of city blocks, eventually totaling 400,000 souls.

When I got home, a friend said, “I’m glad you had a good march.” “My” march started out with the faith communities assembled on West 58th street near Columbus Circle. I was there with a large Jewish group and carried a banner for the Martha’s Vineyard Hebrew Center and represented the Shalom Center in Philadelphia, a Jewish social justice group.

At 11:30 a friend and I reached Columbus Circle and walked toward 58th street, where we were hailed by official march greeters. We waded into the faith communities crowd of Catholics, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Methodists, Episcopalians, Quakers and many others. Immediately, old friends and acquaintances grabbed for us through the crowd. Next to a stage with speakers and singers was a tall inflatable mosque and on the other side, a wooden Noah’s Ark the size of a small school bus.

I waited for more than two hours with the thousands on 58th street to join the march. We could see the march on Central Park a couple of blocks away as it started out. We couldn’t see them but heard that Al Gore was at the front along with Ban Ki-moon, secretary general of the UN, Mayor Bill de Blasio of New York, Leonardo Di Caprio and other celebrities. Almost immediately we heard singing (We Shall Overcome, Hallelujah, This Little Light of Mine) and saw turtles, cranes and other homemade wildlife fluttering over the marchers. At 1 p.m., we were shushed to a moment of silence, followed by drumbeats and blasts from trumpets raising an alarm about climate change. Several people blew shofars, the ram’s horn blown at Jewish high holidays to usher in the new year.

The march stopped for awhile because the entire route was full. When we were finally invited to join, our group was ecstatic. I marched for about an hour, then located a good spot from which to watch the rest of the march. That was when I could really see the spectacle we had all created with the help of organizers from the climate group, 350.org, Avaaz, the social media site, and thousands of organizations from across the country.

From side streets from 86th street to our crowd at 58th, people on foot, bikes, scooters and roller skates joined people in wheelchairs and kids in strollers. Marching together were neighborhoods and towns, scientists, beekeepers and organic farmers, wildlife and ocean preservationists, veterans, unions, peace and justice groups, fracking and tar sands opponents, anti-nuclear power activists, students and youth, elders, Canadians, indigenous peoples, musicians and artists, Hurricane Sandy survivors.

They rode on homemade floats. They carried life preservers, balloons, pennants, umbrellas and signs (Don’t Frack with Us, There is no Planet B, Love Your Mother, Repair the Earth) and floated globes of the earth. They wore homemade animal costumes and some wore almost nothing, like the grass-skirted guy whose bare chest proclaimed “I am Burning Up” in orange paint. Floating above them were swans, geese, polar bears, reindeer, a belching cow. The New York Times reported that a group of Japanese ice sculptors had carved a 3,000-pound ice sculpture that said “The Future,” which they carried as it melted from Queens to Manhattan. Enormous banners flew high above the crowd. I walked alongside one that was at least half a block long. It said “Flood Wall Street.” Occupy Wall Street used the banner the next day on Wall street in an action that resulted in some arrests.

As the day ended, I climbed down into the dark and steamy subway to friends in Lower Manhattan not far from Wall street. I told myself that it will be a long struggle. At that moment, though, I was filled with joy and shimmering hope.

Zelda Gamson lives in Chilmark.