If my mother were still alive, she would tell me to just get out of bed and the emphasis would be on the word just. With her, I was never afforded the luxury of wallowing in anything. To her, it should be easy for me to “just get up and start the day.”

But, each morning, I awake downhearted. More aptly put, I awake feeling blue. I haven’t really told anyone that. Even William wouldn’t know this because I haven’t said a word to him. Why should he, even though he is my husband, start his day having to look at my “long” face?

I wouldn’t say I’m depressed. The truth of the matter is I just want to live in a happier world, in a world where things make sense, where things are sane and rational, in a world where when you work hard, you can make a difference because there are rules that can be followed. There seems to be such a lawlessness now.

Even though my mother is gone, I can still hear her, so I just get up and start my day.

***

We are at the first 100 days of Donald Trump’s second presidency. The pace of what I deem to be his destructive cruelty to, and in, this world is so fast and furious that it’s hard to keep up. So many issues — saving Social Security, protecting the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, standing up for transgender people, and, of course, pushing back on Trump’s illegal and immoral handling of immigration … the list is endless. So much to push back on, it’s hard to know where to start. That’s what my sign read — PUSH BACK — when William and I joined our friends Jim and Merry on April 19 here in Springfield for another standout, the Defend Democracy Standout, The Revolution Continues, 1775-2025. It was in honor of the first major military campaign of the American Revolutionary War, which took place in our state in Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775, 250 years ago.

I have lived in Springfield for 27 years. It’s not an especially cultured or political city. There are a lot of people who are just regular middle class folks. There are a lot of people who are low-income, even destitute. But, we are a sanctuary city. (Our mayor voted against sanctuary city status in 2018, but the City Council later overrode his veto.)

I’ve always thought that the “rough” cities in Massachusetts were: Springfield and Holyoke in western Massachusetts, Worcester in central Massachusetts, Lowell and Lawrence in the northeastern part of the state, and Fall River and New Bedford in southeastern Massachusetts. As a college student, I had friends from Fall River and New Bedford — once seafaring, whaling cities. Both cities have a large population of people of Portuguese heritage. (Herman Melville wrote parts of “Moby Dick” in New Bedford, where his sister lived.) Lawrence and Lowell were once factory cities with a strong demographic of French-Canadians. Jack Kerouac was one of Lowell’s more famous (French-Canadian) residents. Holyoke was also a city of factories — textiles and paper, to be precise. My own French-Canadian grandmother Octavie LaRoche rose to the status of floor manager in the curtain factory on Canal Street. No longer used for manufacturing, there has been a redevelopment of the old mills which are now used for residential, commercial, or educational services.

We met Jim and Merry at 2 o’clock. Well, at least, William did. I found a spot right off the parking lot of an auto parts shop and stood there while William went in search of our friends. Many people lined Boston Road, a commercial street of countless stores and restaurants that even passes by the location of a “dead” mall. The four corners of Boston Road and Parker Street were packed.

I stood with my sign, PUSH BACK. I stood wearing my brand-new T-shirt, DEAR CANADA, WE HATE HIM TOO. (A nod to my French-Canadian heritage.) But mostly I was quiet and thinking how I could not believe I was doing this again, again … only … this time, something had changed. Those eight years ago, in … 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020 … when I joined standouts and marches, I was met by plenty of jeers and swears and middle fingers. Then, 40/60 seemed to be just about right. Forty percent of the people who drove by seemed to be enthralled with Trump and harassed us. Sixty percent honked their horns and shouted encouragement.

“What do you think?” a woman standing next to me said. “It seems like 10/90 this time.” Without a clue as to who she was, and without any clarification from her, I knew exactly what she meant and I agreed with her. Yes, only 10% of those who drove by seemed angry, loudly shouting hateful swears and, of course, giving us the ubiquitous middle fingers.

Yes, something had changed, changed just enough to make me want to get out of bed.

Barbara A. Rouillard of Springfield is an award-winning writer with over 85 publishing credits. A public high school teacher for over 31 years, she retired in 2015. Ms. Rouillard is fluent in French and a politically active member of her community.