No Kings, No Crowns: My First Protest
A recounting of my time at the Colombia, MO No King's Protest
I got to Columbia, Missouri a bit before 11:00 AM. Parked near the courthouse — engine still running — and just sat there.
I didn’t get out of the car until 11:45.
That morning, the news hit hard: two Democratic Party representatives and their spouses were shot in their homes. Targeted. Assassinated. For simply being who they are.
And I was alone. Crowds already get my nerves jangling. That kind of headline? It puts everything on edge.
So I stayed in the car and talked myself through it like I’ve done a dozen times before.
"You’ve gone to basic training alone. You PCSd alone — to Italy, to South Carolina. You’ve deployed alone, TDY’d alone. You’ve stepped into briefing rooms and foreign bases without knowing a soul. You can step into this crowd."
And then the voice underneath all that:
"You need to do this. For women. For your kids. For the veterans and the ones still in. Because when your kids look back at this moment in history — they should know exactly where you stood."
So I got out. And I showed up.
What I found was the opposite of what I feared.
No MAGA mobs. No tanks. No screaming. Just thousands of Missourians — peaceful, fired up, and fed up. Police were on standby, but not aggressive. Just letting it happen.
I wasn’t the only first-timer. I met two Mizzou freshmen — journalism majors, wide-eyed and watchful. We stood together, talking between speakers. About how Missouri used to be purple. About how the shift didn’t start with Trump — it started with 9/11. With Rush Limbaugh’s gravel-soaked rants, broadcast from my own damn hometown of Cape Girardeau.
When the girls left, I saw it across the crowd:
“USMC Vets Against Facism!”
The other side read:
“No Parades for Draft Dodgers”
And while I didnt run to the sign I did move toward it — I slid through the crowd like I was being pulled there. When I reached them, I introduced myself. No bravado. Just a shared history.
They were a family of three Marine vets, and they welcomed me in without hesitation. (And I'm Airforce!) 😆
We talked fast. Like veterans do. About how the DoD is gutting the force. How “trimming” really means discarding. We talked about how they’re actively pushing out trans service members again — and how if history is any guide, next on the chopping block could be gay troops. Again.
One of us said, “Why the hell are people so hellbent on going backwards?”
And I didn’t even hesitate:
“Because people are idiots. That’s why.”
We all laughed. That deep, knowing vet laugh. The kind that doesn’t need to be explained. Because the military breeds a different kind of humor — one that knows how to bleed, joke, and still get the job done. So we shared stories and walked and protested and honestly, it was just comfortable for me.
We all remembered being taught that foundational truth, the one they teach you when you swear in.
We swear to the Constitution. Not to a politician. Not to a party. Not to a king.
And if anyone tries to use our Armed Forces as a campaign prop?
They don’t know a damn thing about honor or service.
So no — there weren’t sirens today. No headline-grabbing chaos. Just clarity. Camaraderie. And a few crusty old Marines and an old USAF Master Sergeant holding the line, and standing where the people in uniform cannot at this moment.
No kings. No crowns. No blind loyalty. Not here.
Sources:
'No Kings' protests begin in Columbia and Jefferson City | Mid-Missouri News | komu.com
Great story - today was my first protest too, at age 73!