Message to Trump: This Land is Our Land

Message to America: This is what love looks like.

I made it! I so wanted to be part of this important moment in our history. (And so did seven million others!)

It’s the day after the day after the big day—October 18, 2025, NO KINGS DAY II—and I still haven’t come off of my high. I will, I know, but allow me this. Allow us ALL this. We’ve earned it.

We came together in peace and harmony and love and laughter, more than seven million of us at more than 2700 rallies across the country, to send a message that even Donald Trump couldn’t ignore: No, he cannot be a king. We don’t do kings. He can’t even pretend to be a king.

He can’t be a ruler, he can’t be a potentate, he can’t be a czar, he can’t be a dictator, he can’t be a mob boss, he can’t be the guy who makes the rules for everyone but him.

He can’t.

But the message wasn’t just for him. It was for everyone who thought it was cute to go along and let that dangerously incompetent fool bully his way into our White House and destroy the fabric of our society, as if it were made of cheesecloth and not a couple centuries of tightly knit tapestry.

We did it brilliantly, if I do say. We planned, we analyzed, we found Trump’s Achilles Heel—the actions he would never think of: Love bombs! Ridicule! Peace, love, unity! It’ll be FUN!

All photos mine. Please ask permission before using

We knew they were planning to get out the big guns to make it look like an insurrection and not a rally. They wanted trouble and they’d do everything they could to instigate it, including bringing in, of all the crazy things, the National Guard. Because that’s who they are. That’s how they think. But, silly ninnies, they’ve announced who they are and how they think too many times. We get it now.

So we worked around them. We sent out our own messages, telling the crowds to stay calm, to bring peace, to enjoy this day of unity, of solidarity, of purpose. We came together and partied for a good cause. But the message was always there: NO TRUMP. NEVER TRUMP.

At my own house on that Saturday morning it was raining cats and dogs. It had been a week since my first chemo session but exhaustion was still a problem. I hadn’t slept well—too jazzed maybe. I thought about the parking—always a problem in our small town—the hills, the stairs, the march to our rallying spot, which is always an enjoyable part of any of our rallies. I thought about it all. Could I do it? What if I couldn’t? Could I actually miss this day I’d been waiting for, hoping for, longing for? This day I knew would go down in history as a symbol of our resolve, of our solidarity, of our love of our country?

Well, glory be, the rain stopped. The caffeine kicked in. Energy began to flow. My body, so willing to turn on me just days before, spoke to me: Don’t even think about it! Go! Go! Go! I pinned my protest buttons on my jacket, donned my cute cap, grabbed my cane, and out we went. (And found an empty parking spot a minute away from where we wanted to be!)

Notice how I’m smiling in both pictures? I couldn’t stop smiling!

We had to show them and we did. They can lie, they can deny, they can pretend, but they’ll never be able to ignore what we did on that October Saturday in 2025, when we told the Trump regime in no uncertain terms that they were going out of business.

Trump is already trying to pawn off the idea that we were a small group of lunatics paid by George Soros—so pay no attention. But we know. SEVEN MILLION OF US KNOW.

We manufactured the kind of energy Trump could only dream of and it’ll only build from here. This was big. We’re big. We’re strong. We’re America.

(In our small town, population 5900, so predictably voting red only one Democrat ran for local office last election, 1500 of us turned out, along with hundreds of horn-honkers, with only one incident—a bunch of yahoos roaring their truck engines, spewing black smoke to annoy us, going round and round until the cops came. 😆)

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