JUNE 14, 2025 –
Blogger’s Note: Given events of the past 24 hours, today’s post interrupts the series Sailing the Ocean Blue. The series will continue in due course.
With the rest of the nation I awoke this morning to the awful news that a gunman had murdered a prominent Minnesota state legislator and her husband and seriously wounded a Minnesota state senator and his wife. Reportedly another 70-some people—all Democrats—were on the monster’s hit list.
The Minnesota State Patrol urged people not to attend today’s “No Kings” protests in the state, but thousands of people chose courage over fear. The same Minnesota State Patrol later estimated that between 25,000 and 30,000 people attended the main protest on the state capitol grounds in St. Paul.
If my wife and I had been within driving distance of the state capitol today, we would most definitely have been in the heart of the “No Kings” crowd, sufficiently motivated to join the crescendo of voices protesting the Trump Administration. We would have also been mournfully driven by the overnight shootings to express our sorrow in community with thousands of fellow Minnesotans. In any event, my wife and I are as disturbed as all citizens should be by the murderous turn of events back home.
As it turns out, we landed in Connecticut late yesterday. As much to set an example for our family, my wife and I attended two “No King” demonstrations today—one in Guilford, the other in New Haven. In each instance a large crowd had assembled—peacefully but with signs bearing the usual excoriations and condemnations of an autocratic regime with monarchical designs.
At the well-attended Guilford event, we encountered a couple of older women clothed in red, white and blue and waving American flags, a Trump flag, and a “Happy Birthday President Trump” sign. One of the women clutched a bunch of American flags. Though a couple of days ago I’d tried to buy two or three small, hand-held flags for this very occasion, I’d been unable to find any. I figured that given her own publicly displayed affinity for the flag and the fact she carried half a dozen extras, the woman might be willing to share the wealth. I attempted to engage her in a simple verbal exchange, but she refused to acknowledge me. If I hadn’t observed her talking with her cohort, I would’ve thought she was deaf. After saying, “Excuse me” repeatedly without a response, I finally just asked her straight out, “Are you handing out flags?”
She snapped at me. “Do you support Trump?” I’m pretty sure she knew the answer, given the sea of anti-Trump signs and sloganeering surrounding us. On the other hand, she and her pal—self-declared Trumpers—were present, proving that not everyone there was anti-Trump.
In any event, upon realizing that this woman of the flag had no interest in sharing the spirit of Flag Day with a non-Trumper, I decided to forget the bunch of flags going to waste in her hand and tried to initiate a conversation. My goal wasn’t to change her mind one iota but rather, to gain some insight into what made such a person tick; what drew her to a person such as Trump.
She wasn’t about to engage in an exchange of ideas. Not with me, anyway, and what saved me from getting entangled in what would likely have been a veritable briar patch of irritating talking points lifted from GoebbelsNews, was the smooth intervention by a bystander, one April Capone, former mayor of East Haven. Ms. Capone had the good sense and experience to see in two seconds what was taking me all too long to accept: that constructive engagement with the Trumper was a lost cause. (Ms. Capone intimated that she’d had prior run-ins with the cantankerous woman.) I thanked her for saving me from an ugly situation.
Beth and I wound up having a fascinating conversation with Ms. Capone. She’d garnered remarkable political experience at what I’d call the “street level.” Intelligent and articulate, she understood human nature and hypocrisy. She’d seen enough reality to entitle her to cynicism—if she’d decided to bend in that direction. She refused to be debilitated by cynicism, however. Despite the battles she’d fought and lost against immovable forces, she expressed genuine faith in the ability and capacity of ordinary citizens to make a positive difference. Now working in the arena of public housing, she herself has committed her energies to making the world a better place.
From Guilford we drove to New Haven and the Yale University Campus to join another “No Kings” protest. It too was well attended by peaceful but outspoken protesters. I drew hope from the assemblage as I extrapolated the numbers over countless similar protests across the country.
Again, there was the rewarding conversation, this time with an 80-year-old gentleman, “Gary.” In a half-hour exchange, I learned the highlights of his story. He’d faced many early impediments and few privileges, but clearly bright, he’d made the most of his educational opportunities and fully grasped “Professor Stavrou’s Third Level of Learning,” learning for the sheer joy of it. (See my posts earlier this year featuring the inimitable Professor Theofanis Stavrou.) Immensely curious about the world, Gary had explored it widely and learned much about many things.
He was wholly scandalized by the current regime but he was also critical of the protesters for their naiveté, in politics as well as economics. “Fine,” I said, “but there’s so much wrong with what’s going on that lots and lots and lots of people have to show up in protest against all that’s wrong.”
“I know, I know,” he said in concession. “I was among the demonstrators against the war in Vietnam.”
“So, you do know,” I said. “People showed up and more people showed up and more and eventually, they had an effect; they turned the tide. That’s what needs to happen now, because the current regime has stepped beyond the tipping point to collapse the democracy.”
At the close of this day, June 14, my head hurts and my heart cries, but I’m also heartened by the people we encountered today; Americans who are as disturbed as we by the direction the country has taken and by the urgency of changing our course before it’s too late. If by appearing at the protests we didn’t stop political violence or bring Trump to account, at least we demonstrated to family, friends, and most of all, to ourselves, that this country is worth saving, and despite its many flaws—or more precisely, because of its many flaws now culminating in a major turning point in history—we have a civic, moral and ethical duty to stand up for what we believe is right.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
