The eagle is a symbol of freedom in the U.S., here in sculpture form at small town Minnesota memorial. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
IN CONSIDERING AMERICA’S 249th BIRTHDAY, I decided to write down words that immediately popped into my mind relating to this holiday, America and the current state of our country. I limited myself to 20 individual words or phrases. Here’s what flowed from my brain to pen to paper before I typed this list into my computer for you to read:
freedom
democracy
liberty
voting rights
free and fair elections
divisiveness
fear
deportations
due process
freedom of speech
freedom of the press
protests
my voice
threats
intimidation
injustice
checks and balances
life
melting pot
history
I could easily take each word or phrase and expound on how I feel about these topics in current-day America. But for today, I will allow the words to mostly stand alone while you ponder their meaning or create a list of your own. I will only state that I am saddened some of these words found their way into my brain as I think about our country on its 249th birthday. What words would be on your list?
Protesters stand along Minnesota State Highway 19 by Ames Park in Northfield during the June 14 NO KINGS protest. This is one of my favorite signs among the many held by hundreds of protesters. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.
Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.
A strong statement against a system of government by one person with absolute power. I suggest you look up these words, as I had to with some. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.
This shows just a portion of the massive crowd gathered for Northfield’s NO KINGS protest. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.
I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.
While your eyes may focus on the protest sign in the middle, look to the right. and this sign: IF NOT ME, WHO? IF NOT NOW, WHEN? (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.
And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.
So many positive messages promoting love, compassion, care, kindness… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.
I saw this mural, “The Inheritance of Struggle,” inside the Memorial Student Union at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, Tuesday afternoon. It shows “the contributions made by people of various ethnicities and cultures in the form of tears, sweat, blood and life in the building of the United States.” It’s fitting for today, Juneteenth, and for NO KINGS day. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2025)
The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.
I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…
Veteran Kirk Mansfield carries the American flag as part of the Color Guard during the parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
I GREW UP RECOGNIZING Memorial Day for what it is—a day to honor those who have died in service to our country. My parents instilled in me the importance of this day, a value I’ve carried throughout my life. Nearly every year I’ve attended an event recognizing our military men and women, especially those who made the ultimate sacrifice.
A large crowd gathers for the Memorial Day parade along Central Avenue in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
On Monday morning I headed downtown Faribault to the Memorial Day parade followed by a program in Central Park. In the afternoon Randy and I drove a few miles out of town to the Cannon City Cemetery and a program there.
This year’s honored veterans were all women: Kerrie Johnsrud, Peggy Johnson (pictured here as honorary parade grand marshal) and Stephanie Johnsrud. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
At each of these events, I observed a deep sense of patriotic pride and love of country among attendees. That came in an abundance of American flags; patriotic music, poetry, readings and speeches; red-white-and-blue attire; salutes; and smiles.
Veterans throw candy to the kids. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
In a time when this country feels incredibly divided, it uplifted me to witness this appreciation for America, for the men and women who fought to preserve our freedom and for those who continue to do so. For this one day I felt a sense of unity, a coming together to honor and to uphold democracy.
Kids participated in, and attended, the parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
I especially delight in seeing so many children at these Memorial Day events. It’s important for them to recognize that this date should not be noted as the unofficial start of summer, but rather as a sacred day of remembrance.
A cluster of happy kids with flags and candy. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
Sure, at some of their young ages, these kids are coming for the candy and American flags handed out at the parade. They’re coming, too, to be with their families and friends. But their understanding of Memorial Day will grow—at least I hope it will—as they mature. Kids learn from their parents and grandparents. Our choices show them what’s important.
Scouts and others passed out American flags. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
I am thankful for my Korean War veteran father and American Legion Auxiliary mother who instilled in me and my five siblings the necessity of attending and participating in Memorial Day events. On that singular May day each year, we gathered with community to honor, to remember and to, yes, celebrate freedom. This is a tradition I hold dear, for I recognize the freedom preserved and protected by those who served, and still serve, our country.
Faribault is a diverse community with many of our newest residents arriving from war-torn countries to settle here, work and raise their families. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
I have the freedom to speak. To write. To make choices. To agree or disagree. Not everyone does, even in our own country. That’s another reason Memorial Day holds such value. It reminds us of our core values as a nation. How much we value democracy and freedom. We are a country of spacious skies and amber waves of grain…and of patriot dream that sees beyond the years.
Patriotic pride shines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
We are a land, that even in the darkness of difficult days, still shines from sea to shining sea!
A contingent of horses and their riders always end the parade. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2025)
FYI: Please check back for two more Memorial Day posts, these about programs I attended.
Dolls with appropriate eye-rolling and blank staring. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
ONCE UPON A TIME in The Land of Plenty there lived a ruler who, once he took office, commenced to ruthlessly flaunt his authority (which fits, given his self-proclaimed ruler status). He really didn’t care what he said or did as long as it fit his agenda to make his kingdom—more precisely himself—great. The forceful leader promised that the “golden age” of Acirema would start on the day he assumed power. Perhaps he was referencing the opulent gold décor in his redecorated palace office.
The ruler gathered his team of loyalists and followers, assuring them that as long as they followed his plans, his instructions, his actions, his orders, he would reward them, or at least keep them out of the dungeon. Threats and intimidation have a way of instilling self-preservation and obedience.
But not everyone much cared for the self-centered leader or his policies. They never fell under his spell, his control. They were willing to stand up to him, question him, even at the risk of raising his ire. Or worse. They began to rise up and challenge him and his underlings. That didn’t sit well with the ruler. I mean, how would you like the courts calling you out, gray-haired ladies protesting, students criticizing you in schoolyards? Nope, can’t have that happening in Acirema. Never mind that The Land of Plenty was a land of freedom, of laws, of due process, of balanced powers. Or at least it was before the authoritarian ruler took over.
And so, 100 days into his reign, the ruler underwent a job review of sorts. Job reviews held no sway with him, although he should have understood their importance based on his previous experiences as a land baron who banished many a worker. Whatever. He was above everyone. All of them. He didn’t believe multiple reports of his declining popularity. He was doing a great job, he proclaimed. Great! And that was that. Don’t tell him otherwise for fear of being branded a liar. Or worse, banished from the kingdom. Just nod and agree that everything is going great and the ruler would call you a friend rather than a foe.
But you can only push people so far before they break and stop believing you, if they ever did in the first place. And many in the kingdom never did take this man at his word. He had a habit of distorting the truth, in other words lying. Now name-calling is not nice. But truth is truth.
One windfall apple, that will eventually rot. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
BULLYING AND BLAMING
Many in the kingdom were weary of the bullying coming from the palace. No one likes a bully. No one likes decrees that harm, rather than help, the kingdom. When the ruler levied new taxes on goods, promising to enrich his subjects, many did not believe him. (It should be noted that some—too many—still believed him.) He urged patience and calm as anger rose both inside and outside the kingdom. The ruler had upset the marketplace apple cart. Yet, he would hear none of the verbal resistance. As was his usual reaction, he blamed the previous overseer of The Land of Plenty for the rising costs of food and for marketplace shortages. “It was him, not me!” the ruler shouted. He used that blame tactic often.
Dolls, dolls and more dolls.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
2 DOLLS, 30 DOLLS, 900 DOLLS
But then he said something that deeply upset his subjects. “Well, maybe the children will have two dolls instead of 30 dolls,” the ruler responded when asked about rising prices and marketplace shortages. Outrage ensued. Thirty dolls? It was then that the people of the kingdom realized how disconnected the leader was from reality. Many of them now lived in poverty due to his policies. Their children had no dolls, unless you counted those crafted from corn cobs. The ruler’s grandchildren, however, had an entire playroom filled with imported dolls. Lovely dolls. Thirty times thirty. That’s 900 if you’re counting.
By this time the citizens of The Land of Plenty were counting only one thing—the number of days until they could vote in a new leader of Acirema. If that would even be an option. If they weren’t all banished. If they still had a country.
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NOTE: While this is a fictional story, it is rooted in truth. Feel free to leave a comment, understanding that I moderate all comments on this, my personal blog.
Blowing snow reduces visibility during a prior winter storm in Rice County. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
AS I WRITE this Tuesday afternoon, a sense of foreboding looms. Grey, with a tinge of otherworldly light, defines the sky. Branches of bare trees lean. Unbalanced. Darkness encroaches, presses upon the earth with an anticipatory heaviness. By the time you read this, my area of southern Minnesota will be under siege with a full-blown blizzard. Unless the weather forecasters are wrong.
But this time the forecast of up to eight inches of snow with wind gusts topping 55 mph seems likely. I’ve already asked Randy to stay home from work because driving 24 miles in white-out conditions would not be smart. Or safe. The National Weather Service warns of treacherous travel, potentially life-threatening conditions. Power lines and trees laden with heavy wet snow could snap.
The weather rather matches my mood. I feel a sense of foreboding on so many levels. I struggle sometimes to see the light for the grey skies, for the oppressiveness that prevails. I wonder what will happen next. What storm is brewing?
(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
During a weather event, I can prepare. Take precautions. Buy bread and milk (note I didn’t write, “buy eggs”). Stay home. Shelter in place. Face whatever comes. I’ve lived through blizzards, wind storms and even a tornado. I am a hardy American who happens to live in Minnesota, next to our wonderful Canadian neighbors.
And so that is the approach I must take. Stand strong against the negative forces. Speak up. Continue to show compassion, care, kindness, love. Hold hope. Understand that blizzards don’t last forever, although this one seems never-ending.
A city of Faribault snowplow hits the road during a past winter storm. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Every single snowplow matters in removing burdensome snow from roadways. Imagine what a fleet of snowplows can do against the deepest snow drifted by raging winds. I’ve seen the results. Roads are cleared. The snow melts. The sun shines. Winter ends. The trees bud green. That is my visual hope during these grey days tinged with an otherworldly light.
At the Kenyon Public Utilities building, signage marks the birth and bicentennial of our country from 1776-1976. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
BUILT BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE. I suppose in many ways that could describe the building of America. We are a nation built by the people on the principles of freedom, of democracy. That’s important to remember in the hoopla of the Fourth of July, a holiday synonymous with BBQs, parades, fireworks and a day off from work.
Spotted on a house in Kenyon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
But the founding of our country, the birth of a nation, is at the core of our July Fourth celebration. Or at least it should be.
A stunning house along Red Wing Avenue showcases beautiful landscaping and the red-white-and-blue. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
On recent day trips to several small towns in southern Minnesota, I noticed the red-white-and-blue on full display. Visual reminders that loyalty to country and liberty are still cherished.
A flag flies at Kenyon’s hardware store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
I appreciate when people, businesses, governments showcase the colors of this country in ways that honor and respect the integrity of America. Not to make a political statement.
Patriotism in carved eagles and an American flag in a Kenyon neighborhood. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
In Kenyon, a rural community of just under 2,000 in Goodhue County, I found an array of red-white-and-blue. From Main Street to residential neighborhoods, locals have infused the colors of our country into the landscape.
Allan and Connie Turner have lots of kitschy handcrafted art in their yard at the corner of Red Wing Avenue and Eighth Street next to the Kenyon water tower. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2024)
American made sold at All Seasons Thrift Store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Patriotic bags for sale in the thrift shop. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Flags fly. Kitschy yard art celebrates the Fourth. Even inside a thrift store, American pride shows.
An American and MIA flag fly at the Kenyon Post Office. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
An American flag is barely visible to the right as a sprayer passes Kenyon’s veterans’ memorial. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
A patriotic barn and porch quilt, available at D & S Banner, Sign & Print. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
This is America. From small town to big city. From coast-to-coast. No matter where we live in this big wide country, we are, today, one nation celebrating the birth of our nation.
One of several flag decals in the windows of the VFW. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2024)
Happy birthday, America! And happy Fourth of July, dear readers!
An American flag graces Welch Mill Innertubing. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2021)
BACK IN NOVEMBER 2021, I photographed this symbol of America in the unincorporated village of Welch. Today, the birthday of our country, seems a good day to finally share this image from southeastern Minnesota.
There’s something about the simplicity of this scene which I find particularly appealing. An historic mill. Faded signage. Blue sky on a perfect autumn afternoon. And then the jolt of bold colors in the American flag. It all comes together visually, leading to thoughts of history and what that flag symbolizes. Freedom. Democracy. Maybe even hope in the face of so much division.
A flag inspires us to ponder, to reassess, to consider, to feel gratitude. To celebrate.
In this spot along the Cannon River and the Cannon Valley Trail in Welch Township in Goodhue County, American pride runs strong at the former Welch Feed Mill, now home to Welch Mill Innertubing. The business rents inner tubes, canoes and kayaks.
During my stop eight months ago, I viewed the scene through a photographic lens, with an artist’s eye, grateful for the freedom I have to come and go, to photograph, to express myself as an artist, unencumbered.
A vet rides on the Moose Lodge float during the Memorial Day parade. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
TO CELEBRATE MEMORIAL DAY in Faribault means coming together as a community. First during a ceremony at the Rice County courthouse, then the 10 a.m. parade through the heart of downtown followed by a program at Central Park.
Lining up for the parade near Buckham Library. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
An honored veteran. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
The Color Guard marches along Central Avenue past the many historic buildings which grace our downtown. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
This represents Americana. Tradition. A public way to honor those who died in service to our country.
Faribault Fire & Rescue is always part of the parade. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
This vintage wagon advertises Minne Roadtrips to the Faribault/Northfield/Owatonna area. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
The Scouts always walk in the parade. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
As has been our tradition for decades, Randy and I unfolded our lawn chairs along Central Avenue to watch the parade pass by. Little changes. Veterans and flags and fire trucks and Scouts and vintage vehicles and horses define the 15-minute parade. Absent this year were high school bands and the Shattuck-St. Mary’s Crack Squad.
A particularly patriotic truck. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
But we were happy simply to have a parade, canceled last May (and rightly so) due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
On this Memorial Day 2021, American flags stretched in the morning breeze. Parade participants waved. And kids waved mini flags distributed by Scouts and American Heritage Girls. Veterans clutched flags. And flags adorned vehicles. It was all about the red-white-and-blue.
Crowds line Central Avenue to watch the parade. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
Horses always end the parade. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
Folks lingered after the parade. Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo 2021.
While this parade rates as short and simple, I none-the-less cherish it. I cherish the tradition. I cherish the opportunity to come together as a community. And I cherish the opportunity to remember and honor those Americans who died while serving our country. Our America.
Please check back for photos from the Memorial Day program at Central Park.
An American flag flies in Cannon City, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots edited file photo May 2020.
I WANTED TO WRITE a positive post about America and the Fourth of July. I couldn’t do it. I sat and stared at my computer screen with negative thoughts jumbling in my mind.
These are difficult days in this country. I will leave it at that with the following addendum.
I wish you a safe and healthy holiday. Please, mask up and social-distance if you are out and about. Avoid gatherings and crowds. And, if you’re not feeling well, please stay home. End of post that began with an idea that failed.
In remembrance of 9/11, photographed last September 11 in Hastings, Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2018.
YESTERDAY BROUGHT TIME for reflection. Reflection upon the events of September 11, 2001, a day which forever changed us as Americans.
I reconstructed a tower using the same blocks my then young son and his friend used on September 11, 2001, to duplicate what they saw on television. These are also the same toy airplanes they flew into the tower. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2011.
The terrorist attacks on our country made us feel vulnerable, unsafe and realizing, perhaps for the first time that, just because we live in America, we don’t live in a bubble of protection from those who would harm us.
Photographed along Interstate 90 east of La Crosse, Wisconsin. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo May 2011.
Yet, in the midst of that tragedy, that sorrow, that new reality, there emerged a solidarity. We felt united as a country, a people.
On the campus of Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota, a plaque honors an alumnus who died in the World Trade Center attack. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo July 2019.
Eighteen years later I no longer see that unity. I see rather a fractured country. That saddens me. The discord. The political upheaval. Even the overt hatred toward certain peoples.
Faribault, Minnesota, firefighters pay special tribute to the fallen New York firefighters on this memorial sign. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2011.
Yet, when I look closely, I see the care and compassion extended by many Americans toward those who need our care and compassion. We have always been a giving nation. I hear the voices of those who speak for those whose voices have been mostly silenced by rhetoric and oppression and policies. We are still individuals with voices that matter.
My then 8-year-old son drew this picture of a plane aimed for the twin towers a year after 9/11 for a school religion assignment. He was a third grader in a Christian school at the time and needed to think of a time when it was hard to trust God. To this day, this drawing by my boy illustrates to me how deeply 9/11 impacted even the youngest among us. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
That ability to express ourselves—whether through the written or spoken word, in music, in art, in acts of kindness—remains. Strong. We have the power individually to make a difference in our communities, to start small, to rise above that which threatens to erode.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
In which I protest, grieve & reflect June 19, 2025
Tags: America, assassination, commentary, government, grief, June 14, Minnesota, mural, news, NO KINGS protest, Northfield, protest, protest signs, reflections, Rep. Melissa Hortman, Sen. John Hoffman, thoughts, United States
I LEANED MY HEAD against Randy’s shoulder, my left hand gripping the rod of a protest sign and a small American flag. I felt such profound sadness in that moment. The moment when a pastor asked for a period of silence in honor of Minnesota State Representative/House Speaker Emerita Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark, assassinated in their home during the early morning hours of June 14.
Flag Day. Nationwide NO KINGS protest day. A day of gathering turned tragic here in Minnesota.
I alternated between leaning into my husband and leaning my bowed head against the bottom of my NO MORE KINGS protest poster held high, the sign with the cursive words, “I value freedom,” scrawled on the back side. The wind blew, swept my hair across my face like a veil covering sadness. The heaviness felt palpable here, in Ames Park in Northfield, along the banks of the Cannon River. But so did the energy.
We were a group of hundreds—maybe even a thousand (I’m not good at estimating crowd size)—gathered to publicly express our concerns about leadership in this country, about decisions being made that negatively affect all of us, about the state of and future of our democracy… It was my first protest. Ever. I wanted, needed, to be here. To remain silent seems complicit.
I’d already arrived when a friend texted that Minnesotans had been advised by state law enforcement not to attend NO KINGS protests. That warning linked to the suspect in the shootings of the Hortmans and of State Senator John Hoffman and his wife, Yvette. We would later learn that NO KINGS fliers were found in the vehicle of Vance Boelter, now accused in the double murders and attempted murders.
That explained why, on the way to the riverside protest, I overheard a woman telling a couple that her police officer son had advised her not to participate in the rally. She was going home. I was not. Nor were any of the others converging on Ames Park at noon. I wasn’t scared. Vested safety people, trained in conflict resolution and de-escalation, were in place. I felt safe in the masses, which, I suppose, is an unrealistic perspective. But I refuse to be silenced by fear, by the words and actions of those who attempt to suppress voices. And intimidate.
And there were those, including the drivers of a white pickup truck and of motorcycles which repeatedly roared past the rally site, spewing their opposition in noise and in political flags bannering messages I won’t repeat. But they, too, have a right to protest. Peacefully. Just as I do. And I wrote that on the back of a second sign: FREE to PROTEST. But, mostly, passing vehicles honked in strong support.
At this rally of people opposing the current administration and its policies and actions, I felt a unity of purpose and a deep, cohesive concern for the future of our country. I felt uplifted, embraced, empowered. Speakers spoke (although I couldn’t hear most). The pastor led us in prayer. We sang—”The Star Spangled Banner” and “We shall overcome.” We cheered. We chanted. We waved our posters and flags. And a group held an over-sized American flag, which I couldn’t see from my vantage point deep in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
We were mostly an older group. Baby Boomers. Grandparents. Even octogenarians. Perhaps some protested during the Vietnam War. Or served this country. We’ve lived a few years, enough decades to understand that we need to rise up against authoritarianism. Enough to understand what’s at stake. But there were some young people, too, like the dad behind me with his preschool daughter playing in the grass. He clearly cares, if not for himself, but then for his child.
The morning after the NO KINGS protest, I left for Madison, Wisconsin, to spend time with my 5-month-old grandson (and his parents). As I snuggled Everett, I thought, he (and my other two grandchildren) are part of the reason I chose to protest. Their lives stretch before them. I want them to live in a country where they are free. Free. I want them to live under a government based on a three-pronged system of checks and balances, not one ruled by a king or some version of a king or dictator. I want them to live in a kind, caring and compassionate country. Not a selfish, uncaring, divisive nation filled with hatred.
I returned to Minnesota yesterday and am catching up on laundry and writing. And, along with my fellow Minnesotans, I’m collectively grieving the assassination of an elected official and her husband. And I’m thinking, this is what it’s come to in Amercia…
© Copyright 2025 Audrey Kletscher Helbling