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"It's time for the human race to join the solar system.” – Dan Quayle


I remember a time when Dan Quayle was the least capable person to be vice president of the United States. While riding to the May Day rally today, my friends and I discussed the corrupt and the terrible republicans who in times past inhabited high offices. It almost could be mistaken for “the good old days” when compared to today ….. but it wasn't. Nixon, Reagan, Bush 1 & 2, and Dick Cheney were terrible human beings.

None of them posed as much of a threat to democracy as the current guy, we all agreed, as we found a parking space. At first, it did not appear that many people had showed up. “Maybe that is because we are 45 minutes early,” Sharon suggested. She was correct. People would start showing up like clockwork. We had quite a crowd for such a republican region in rural upstate New York.

I had asked my younger daughter if her work schedule would allow her to drive over to the rally? She said no, but told me to wear the “Mean Girls” tee-shirt she bought me so that I'd have street cred. She said that it would indicate that I'm as cool of a parent as Mrs. George. Three female college students told me they were impressed, despite my wearing pink on a Thursday.

People were lined up on both sides of the main street in the center of the small city. From where I stood, I could see the county courthouse, where in 1964, Robert F. Kennedy handed out tie clips while running for Senate. I had left mine at home, though the memory reminded me that every generation must fight the Good Fight if we are to form a more perfect union.

Suddenly a small car pulled over, uncomfortable close to two of my friends. “Main street” is actually a state highway, with four lanes where we all were. The driver had his window unrolled, and began yelling mean and terrible things at us. “You all look like fucking grandmothers!” he shrieked in my general direction, our eyes meeting. This was one of those times when I had no quick comeback …... I don't think I look like anyone's grandmother ….... so all I came up with was, “I love you” before he sped off.

As we would be there for two hours, I walked around on both sides of the street. I encountered some old friends: the midwife who delivered both of my daughters, the psychiatrist from the mental health clinic where I used to work, a university professor, school teachers, and an archaeologist from a firm that Chief Waterman and I used to deal with. I had a blast talking with them.

More, there were four individuals who are running for local offices this year. Although the rally was not a Democratic Party event, and attracted a wide range of voters, each of these four is running as a Democrat. In our area, a Democrat cannot win an election without independent voters' support. I will be working with at least three of these four campaigns.

I grew tired, as is the nature of old men at a lively rally. Thus, I opted to sit on one of the park benches. I recognized the lady sitting next to me, so I began singing (as best I could) the song “Riders on the Storm.” It took but a second until she recognized me, and gave me a hug while laughing. Fifty years ago, she had picked up up hitch-hiking, and each of the approximate six times I had encountered her since, she had laughed about that ride. I had assumed that I must have been running my mouth, perhaps due to the massive quantity of LSD I was doing that day, but when I finally worked up the courage to ask her, she had said no, I was absolutely silent, just staring straight ahead. And that she had thought, “Oh, God! Have I picked up Jim Morrison?”

Suddenly, without warning, an unidentified woman quickly approached me, pointing, and said, “I know who you are! You are Cassius's grandfather!” Another woman I don't know said, “Oh my god! Cassius is so cute!” about my 2.5 year old grandson. The lady who gave me the ride long before asked if he was named for Cassius Clay? I explained the traditional Irish name pattern for my second son, which resulted in Cassius Ray per two of his ancestors.

Eventually, the two hours was almost up, and people were leaving. We were among the very last to go. Looking at the main street/highway, I thought about how in 1960, my cousin ran the local Democratic Party headquarters, when John F. Kennedy was running for president. How six weekends in a row, as he drove into the city on that very street, he was pulled over and ticketed by police who told him, “We don't want your type here.” They were the only six tickets he ever got in many decades of driving.

To me, this is the real America. And I remember my late friend Rubin's saying, in 1975, that democracy means constant struggle. And the rally illustrates how we will kick the stuffing out of the maga republicans in 2026.