Last Saturday, we were going to No Kings.
It was sunny and warm, and people were out, just to get a coffee, or have a beer. Sidewalks were crowded, and the streets were busy with cars looking for a place to park. It had the feeling of celebration. “There was music in the cafes at night and revolution in the air.”[1]
As we got closer to the state house, foot traffic increased, people were carrying signs, flags, bottles of water. Several people were toting bags of food to leave in the boxes destined for the needy. Sounds of laughter spread in waves, and smiles were everywhere.
As we neared the state house streets became funnels, buildings echoed the sound of freedom. Freedom to assemble, Freedom of speech. Freedom to take a stand and be heard.
We walked behind two young ladies, one dressed as a devil, red dress, black leather boots up to her knees, she even had horns. Her companion wore a beret, and walked with a cane, they were slow and cautious, but they were animated and happy. In front of them, an older couple was strolling along arm in arm, carrying a No Kings sign. Across the street, a steady stream of “protesters” made their way. It was relaxed, and the whole thing had an aura of celebration.
Around the state house, a steady stream of cars circled the block, honking their horns, signs hanging out of the windows, people standing up, our of the sunroof, holding up No Kings signs. Chants and car-horns echoed from the buildings lining broad street, and sun light burned down from above, sound and light mixed, creating something beautiful, the music of life.
We walked all the way around the building, waving our flags, talking to people. We wanted to be a part of everything. And everywhere we went people were happy. Happy to be a part of something they considered so noble, happy to be among people who shared their concerns and beliefs, happy to be alive and exercising their right to assemble and peaceful protest.
Underneath it all was the fear driving the assembly. Everything was escalating, spiraling out of control, National Guard troops are stationed in the nation’s capital, Portland Oregon is set to be invaded, Chicago has National Guard troops from Texas. Marines were sent to Los Angeles. Everything teeters right on the edge.
At one point, during the presidential campaign, then Senator Vance said that people wanted to go downtown and eat in Columbus, but were too afraid. Lawlessness and chaos kept people away. He implied the streets were filled with roaming gangs of thugs, just waiting for naive suburbanites to enter their lair. Easy prey.
And I was a little worried, not about criminals, at least not the kind the Vice President had been talking about. I was afraid of the MAGA crowd, angry Trump’s authority was being questioned. I’m worried the military will be called upon to quash dissent, and impose law and order, “they make a desert, they call it peace.”[2]
Eventually, we made it to the west side of the state house, where the rally was being held. People were packed in, everywhere, the crowd moved and flowed, a single entity with thousands of individual parts. Crowded as it was, it was a simple matter to wander through the crowd, and read the signs. It was easy to carry on a conversation, it was a simple matter to smile at a stranger, and have them smile back and nod. It was the ultimate peaceful protest, no anger, no violence, nothing to worry about. When we left, we were tired, but joyful, hopeful but realistic. People cared, people were trying to be heard.
I hope it isn’t too late. Things are moving quickly, and the authorities who can slow the beast are hiding behind party allegiance and the appeal of winning at all costs. It’s impossible to predict what’s next, power is being consolidated while the houses of congress sit idle. The justice department is in pursuit of punishing political opponents. The judiciary is hopeless, appeals drag into endless bickering, due process is a distant memory, and the Supreme Court has become another MAGA fan club.
But after Saturday, and the sense of family we found, and the knowledge that it wasn’t only around the country but had spilled over into other parts of the world, gives me some sense of hope. And as long as we have hope, we have a chance.
[1] “Tangled Up In Blue” by Bob Dylan
[2] Publius Cornelius Tacitus, disparaging Roman rule.
—
This Post is republished on Medium.
—
Photo credit: Flickr
Thanks Tim, Glad you had fun