When Noo Yawker’s shout in unison NO KINGS, people listen.

We the People spoke.

The temperature in N.Y.C. was unseasonably cool this past Saturday, but the chilly weather did not dampen the heat, the spirit, and the enthusiasm of the protesters at The No Kings March.

The crowd was on fire.

To be among the tens of thousands, standing shoulder to shivering shoulder with kindred spirits on my birthday was the very best gift I could have had.

More than 3,000 marches and rallies took place on March 28th in cities and towns across America during the third “No Kings” event, where millions protested against the policies, cruelties, corruption, and lawlessness of President Trump and his administration.

The Big Apple was bursting at the seams with American’s reminding Trump who this country belongs to.

No matter how many buildings he gaudily embellishes with his name.

From Central Park we gathered in the cold, chanting, and holding signs marching south towards Times Square. The crowds filled with babies in strollers and boomers with walkers, and every generation in between, stretched as far as the eye could see.

The decades of dedicated activism among the older protestors was palpable. They could easily be jaded and sit this one out after all those marches and protest they have logged in. But we were front and center, inspired and infectious.

We remember a time when America was a country to feel proud of. Not the sense of deep shame Trump has brought to this once great nation.

I have marched for women’s rights and gay rights, protested wars and nuclear proliferation.  But I have never marched for the very life of our country, for democracy itself.

Arriving in Times Square the energy was as vibrant and electric as the kandy-colored digital billboards, the LED displays and immersive advertising that pulsated jumping in motion, enhancing the enthusiasm of the crowd, so that the energy became one.

This was largest single day of protest in U.S. history.

We have our marching orders.

Organize. Resist. Repeat.