Thousands of protesters from every race, nation and sexual persuasion rallied again, this time on President’s Day at Columbus Circle and Central Park West. Both humorous and serious signs against racism, sexism, executive orders on immigration and Russian involvement were proudly displayed as were signs calling for Mr. Trump to show his tax returns (another march on April 15th?) and his impeachment. The protest rally stretched from 59th Street and Columbus Circle to 72nd Street and Central Park West. Cries of fascist and impeach the President spread in waves over the Avenue.
I saw my friend, Mark, across a street and we moved easily toward each other. People didn’t push or shove, they let us converge. We talked about our mutual disapproval of Mr. Trump and his cabinet selections and posed with our signs in memory of that momentous day. It was a peaceful rally. Similar protests were taking place across the country.
After a few hours of standing my lower back started to act up. I knew I needed to sit. Finding a break in the barrier where police were allowing protestors to exit, I got to a corner at 63d Street and asked a policeman if I could lean on a barrier, claiming my hurt back. He agreed, however, his supervisor told me I had to move on. When a policewoman walked over and wanted know what the problem was, I told her. She escorted me across the street, asked if I was having heart pain and asked if I wanted to go to the hospital. I answered no, but that I simply needed to rest; she left me near a park bench awe struck.
I continued on for another hour, taking photographs and talking to protesters. I entered the rally again at 68th Street with more protesters pouring in from farther uptown. Once home, I posted the sticker, “TRUMP IS NOT MY PRESIDENT” outside my apartment door.