Not sure if it was called “Hands Off” or “No Kings” or maybe had another handle–or if these rallies are now an all-of-the-above movement trying to keep up with accumulating attempts to turn our democracy into a billionairocracy.

Many signs were specific, such as Courts not Camps, and Remember Polio? I do. Thanks Research & Science!

Many, general: Silence is Consent and True Patriots Protect & Defend the Rule of Law.

And comic: Resist Bigly and Looney Tunes are Running the USA.

One, perhaps unwittingly, conveyed very different, though compatible messages when viewed front or back. Its carrier had walked past me before I saw what appeared to be a replica of the tablets that delivered the Ten Commandments. Quite a bullseye on a target that steals, bears false witness, and creates craven images by the hour. But I had to see the front, so I hurried past Moses for a look.

In fact, what I thought a sacred text was actually two tombstones with separate inscriptions: GOP – Dead to Decency and Donald Trump – Traitor – 1946-

Rather than joke about any desire to fill in the missing date, I hasten to say that my favorite was very simple, and perhaps the most comprehensive of all despite its brevity:

Here we have a reminder that America is founded upon immigration, is by nature and by Constitution, inclusive, diverse, and equitable–with just three short words to state our resolve to rise to Ben Franklin’s challenge and keep it that way.

In three other words: E Pluribus Unum.

Cousin Janice, who has been attending these rallies each week in Newtown, Connecticut, no doubt had this in mind when she prepared her latest sign:

Haven’t yet made it to Newtown, but I have made a point of going to different locales. What I just described was in Ipswich where I’ll be tempted to return because it includes a drum circle. That would give this aging flautist a chance to relive the jam sessions of King Richard’s Faire–and prepare for it this fall. Ten minutes at a time, and at best two or three times. I’ll be taken out of there in an ambulance if I attempt any more than that.

All of them have been re-invigorating, encouraging–Newburyport, Newbury (on US-1), and Peterborough, N.H.–but yesterday was topped off by CNN’s presentation of Good Night & Good Luck, the story of legendary journalist Edward R. Murrow’s exposure and defeat of Sen. Joe McCarthy in 1954.

As an introduction and as an epilogue, actor George Clooney had only to recite Murrow’s exact words to drive home the point that we are now living in a time all too much like that of the Red Scare. The archival tape of McCarthy calling any dissenter names such as pinko, commie, and scum may have been black and white, but it glowed MAGA orange.

The play itself–re-imagined from the superb 2006 film with musical interludes and a healthy dose of comic relief perhaps to offset the constant smoke of cigarettes–offers a model for how a country under such an internal threat might save itself.

Murrow warned about the news we consumed, moreso about the frivolous entertainment we consumed as a buffer from any news. He could not have sounded any more urgent than if he had known of Fox News and reality television.

All credible polls are showing that our weekly rallies are waking up those who slept through last year’s election and galvanizing even many low-income folks who voted for the fraud only to be hammered by the cruel reality of this second-coming of Joe McCarthy.

Murrow’s words reminded me of the biblical call to put away childish things. A perfect nightcap for our protests’ constant, implicit reminders to take up adult things.

Perhaps my next sign, wherever I go, will read: Be Engaged, or Be Estranged.

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