Baby’s first protest

And some "bonus" content at the very end 😂

I spent the day I turned roughly 57.87 years old at—drum roll please—my very first protest.

Yep, I spent my Saturday stirring up some good trouble and joined one of the 50 protests in 50 states (50501 = 50 protests, 50 states, 1 day), participating in Hands Off 2025, Boston Edition.

The day was such that I could have (very easily) stayed on the couch in pajamas by the fire drinking coffee. It was cold. Wet. Early. The train schedule was less-than-ideal.

Plus, what difference can one person make?

So many reasons to stay home.

But I’ll tell you what. One person, when multiplied by tens or hundreds or thousands or millions of other persons, can make a statement and maybe, ultimately, a difference.

If you don’t start you can’t finish and I felt a compulsion to attach some action to my words. So after cutting the morning coffee routine short (who knew when the next bathroom would present itself?), picking out an outfit, and bundling up against the elements, off we went.

(And if you’re wondering how I answered the very pressing “What to wear to a protest?” question, I went with old reliable—my RBG t-shirt. It served me well at the Indigo Girls concert this summer, and it felt about right. (And even though it was covered by my parka for much of the day, when it was on display it did garner some attention.😂😂😂))

Our train was packed (unbeknownst and pleasantly surpringly to us) with other protesters, and the sight of them streaming off the train was uplifting, to say the least.

We met our three friends without issue (by the bathroom, which, yes, of course we all used) at 9:40 and quickly made our way up to the Common in a crowd, taking in the signs and the sights and the sounds. So energizing.

And when else do you get the occasion to see a jaunty crocheted tri-corner hat? (And I’m sure she was thrilled with the opportunity to wear it!)

The was music and speakers and chants of “Hands off (everything, pretty much)” and “This is what democracy looks like.” It was a great day, even though some might argue that we turned out to be fair-weather activists after all. While we marched from the Common and then stayed at City Hall Plaza for a long time, we did not stay long enough to see the Dropkick Murphys. It was rainy, frigid, our middle-aged backs were sore and bladders were full, the speakers were getting a bit redundant, and it felt like things were dragging out, as if maybe one of the Dropkicks had overslept. The rain was really coming down and we couldn’t even see the stage. The crowds getting off Boston Common resulted in it taking (quite) a while for us to get from Point A to Point B at which time all of the good viewing spots were occupied. So we were in agreement to call it a day and headed to the Granary Tavern for a bite to eat and some sips to drink. We had fun warming up, eating, drinking, and debriefing on the day before walking back to South Station in a cold, driving rain to catch our respective trains home around 4pm.

This activist life is hard work. But worth it. 🤣

I woke up Sunday, started flipping through my pics, reading and hearing accounts of the global activism—and I was (and still am) really proud of myself for going. Beyond that, I am exceedingly grateful for Kerri and the three friends who were alongside me for the course of the day. I am blessed with so many strong peeps in my life. And it was a nice reminder that there are so many good people in the world. We all need to stick together and not back down.

Here are some of the things I’ve been reflecting on following the protest:

• The overall attitude of the protesters. One of camaraderie, hope, peace, and controlled/directed “anger”.

• No violence. Despite the crowd size and subject matter, the day was totes chill.

• The power of the people. There is real strength in numbers, and I felt that…deeply.

• The widespread assertions that people were paid to protest. The 🤡-loving bobbleheads continue to exhibit selective amnesia—didn’t Elon just try (unsuccessfully) to buy actual votes in WI after all??? Where was the outrage then? Plus I’m pretty sure some paltry sum would hardly motivate a democrat who just lost ~5% of their life savings in two days to go stand in the freezing rain just for show. (Also I’m not sure of the exact amount I was “paid” but between what my 401k lost in two days last week and how much more I spend to get through each agonizing day (without being able to find a suitable job), plus the cost of parking, the train and lunch, I figure I was “paid” at least a whopping minus $100K to protest yesterday. So to make it imminently clear to the skeptics/deniers out there: I was not paid to protest. I protested in part because of how much money I have lost to this Administration thanks to their irresponsible fiscal policies that favor the compliant wealthy white man. But mainly I felt I had to speak out against this Administration’s continued disregard for democaracy, as evidenced by its bypassing of the Constitution at best and evisceration of it at worst. #LiberationDay my ass.

And right now, though April Fools’ Day was a week ago, I feel like the prank is perpetual…only it’s no prank.

This bullsh-t is real life.

That’s why taking part in events like Saturday’s protests is important. We have to give what we can (time, attention, money, etc.) to stop this dismantling of democracy. To stop letting this petulant patrimonialist run rip shod over the graves of those who came before us, those who fought so hard for freedom, independence, and equality. To interrupt this agenda that promotes the wealth of white men; bullies and belittles anyone who speaks up; and shows complete disregard and disrespect for anyone he sees as less than, other than, or anything else he is afraid of.

So that’s the focus for this week’s Transformation Tuesday theme, this movement that I’m part of, transforming my own actions to be more directly engaged, doing the work to try to change the trajectory of history in the face of the unthinkable actions coming out of our nation’s capital. It’s in that spirit I raise some of the things that have me fired up this week, things that further fuel this transformation of mine:

• Can someone explain to me how we were getting ripped off “forever” and why we tolerated it? And also can someone explain why Donny didn’t make these great moves to stop the alleged madness in his first term?

• On a related note, how is it possible then when he attributes everything bad to all the presidents who came before he can a) be completely selective and b) completely ignore his whole first term?

• The stock market is like the reverse of body weight. Easy to lose, slow to gain v easy to gain slow to lose. Be careful what you wish for, you 🤡-loving bobbleheads. Bottom line here is straightforward: I’ve had enough of this shitfuck economy he’s manufacturing. (Probably his only “successful” “business” to date, this ruining of America.)

• The “Whoopsie” train is constantly careening off the rails. And to make matters worse, this Administration fails to admit let alone take responsibility for failure, even when the facts support said failure beyond any reasonable doubt. They capitalize on the blind faith of the followers who use politics as a shield for their hatred and know they will turn a blind eye and pretend it never happened or it doesn’t matter. This cycle of hate is the most vicious cycle of all, and the Administration is fueling it and taking advantage of it.

• Recently I saw two people and heard of a third person I know who once were working their asses off, living their dreams, or seeming to. Now, for various social and economic reasons (aka not of their own volition) one works in a job that couldn’t be more removed from their one true professional love, one, one is an apprentice in the trades, the other is a server at a local chain restaurant. I know that the two people I saw in person are happy, if not a bit disillusioned and/or jaded. But I also know they miss living their dream. It has me thinking that most of us are living here in the middle, treading water to stay afloat—getting by, playing the hand we’re dealt, finding love and joy and happiness and friendship and love despite it all. I wonder if there’s a real and substantive difference between chasing our tails and chasing our dreams. If there is, it’s a very fine line that separates the two. I mention this because in these anxious, angry, polarized, and polarizing times, there are many more of us who are similar than different. We must find and support and take care of each other.

• Speaking of dreams, well, I have to address an elephant you might not realize is in the room. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream, and all his great work was recently immortalized in the form of a sculpture (The Embrace) on Boston Common. The work was somewhat, er, controversial upon its unveiling, though this was my first attempt to see it and decide for myself. And I’ll let you decide for yourself: warm embrace between husband and wife, or giant 🍆?

  

  Perspective really is everything, isn’t it?

  Or both, depending on the angle? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Before I go, I have a small personal/professional matter to address. After a months-long interview and vetting process, I finally was offered a job. And while it would have been nice, conversationally and on paper, to say “I’m the Executive Director of a nonprofit…” it didn’t feel right practically. There were a number of career-path-, financial-/benefits-, and other related issues that ultimately led to me turning it down. The decision was both easy (I knew it wasn’t the right thing for me) and excruciating (it was a job after all). I wish I had video footage of myself agonizing over sending the email declining the offer. I wish someone could have felt how cold my hands were. But in the end, even as I watch my 401k report losses day in and day out, as my bank account shrinks, I have no lukewarm leads (let alone hot ones) and any thoughts of actual retirement are in jeopardy now, I feel great personal/mental/emotional benefit in terms of self-esteem and self-confidence. I have—responsibly or otherwise—taken control and ownership of my professional circumstances. I am unemployed on my own terms, and now I get to focus on building out and building up my own thing, whatever that turns out to be. I’m in control of my own narrative now—that’s an actual liberation day.

Special thanks to you for your continued support on this journey with me—your company gives me strength and inspiration when I need it most, which is pretty much always.

Have a great week.

Love you too.

P.S. As promised in the sub header, here’s the bonus content. (Some of) you asked for a podcast, so this will have to do. For now or forever, who knows? Just taking you up on some of the suggestions/encouragement and trying to have a little fun with it.

Repeat: love you too.