On this gray and overcast day, I wonder. In this small Midwestern town, in the heart of blood-red America, does it matter? Does it matter if my neighbors, my wife, and I—all of us together—take a stand?
Yet here we are, gathered at a small riverside park in Adrian, Michigan.
We carry signs; some of worry, some of dread, some of defiance, and even some of hope. There are signs for those who were wronged, signs for those in peril, and signs for those who have vanished.
There are signs about a narcissistic and demented old fool, a wannabe king; a puppet of, at best, a powerful and hidden oligarchy, at worst, the Russian state.
A bully. A name-caller. And now, finally, a name has landed on him that fits perfectly across his orange countenance: TACO.
A few police occasionally cruise by, but no National Guard or Marines, have yet landed on the shores of the River Raisin.
There are, however, three rather intoxicated members of the opposition across the way—chain-smoking, shouting into the wind something about pedophiles.
Nevertheless, even in the face of this crumbling democracy, our spirits are not dampened.
And this is why it matters: There are no troops. No press. No media. No vendors selling merch. What we have is simply each other—a few hundred neighbors, together—some chanting slogans, many taking photos, most offering a smile and a greeting as we... stand.
We are not alone.
WE must speak out against the injustice. It matters--it all matters. I felt inspired and proud at my peaceful protest. I will not be silent.
The thing that brings me Hope—Light in the Darkness—are all the images of yesterday’s protests. Millions of people standing up and shouting that our voices will be heard and we are now cowed down. That never happened in Nazi Germany. In Russia there would have been guns and arrests—so yes, WE ARE NOT ALONE AND WE ARE STILL FREE TO PROTEST AGAINST THE EVIL.