Protest Muscle Memory: Seniors Reflect on a Lifetime of Showing Up
by Nancy Wright
At one point during the Oct. 18 No Kings Rally on Broadway, a man with a gray beard in an inflatable eagle costume started to reminisce on his time protesting grape sales at grocery stores in 1970. At the time, he was standing up for the dignity and wages of farm workers, but was met with counter-protestors who were “much less friendly” than the crew of mostly senior citizens assembled on that brisk fall Saturday.
The rally, situated near the intersection of Broadway and College Avenue, drew an early and lively crowd. The event was organized by Donald Goldmacher (profiled in our June 2025 edition), a resident of Merrill Gardens senior apartments, who founded it because the seniors of Rockridge wanted to protest but traveling downtown for them might have been difficult. Not to mention safety issues. And after starting last fall with only around 50 people, the Oct. 18 event was attended by nearly 1,000 people.
But by the time I arrived on the beat, wearing a bright blue sequined fedora outfitted with a homemade “PRESS” card and red jacket, the crowd was already dispersing. Still, the conversations I had with neighbors heading home told a vivid story about how today’s demonstrations felt to those who once filled the streets half a century ago.
(Note: Some participants are identified by first name only, per their personal preference for this story.)
“I love the panache of old people; I saw a woman with a lace collar and a sign that read ‘We are Ruthless,’” said Peggy, laughing about the well-executed Justice Ginsberg pun. “The issues now feel broader, more global. One big difference is that today there was no marijuana on the bus!”
For Barbara, who once marched in Berkeley, New York and New Haven, the contrast was sharp. “It’s absolutely different now,” she said. “No tear gas!”
Alice, who demonstrated in Arkansas in the 1960s for civil rights, spoke more somberly. “Back then, Johnson was President, and I thought he was aligned with us,” she said. “I don’t feel that way now; it’s scarier today.”
Her younger friend, who joined her at the rally, added a warm memory: “I was a toddler back in 1969, but I’d ask, ‘Mommy, where will we march today?’”
At 81 years old, I reflect back to the 1960's marches, protests and demonstrations. Born in 1944, I always felt that I was both at the forefront of some movements and a little late to others. I never attended a protest during those times — maybe out of concern for the consequences or just not being at the right place and time. But unprecedented times beckoned me to show up; this was my third protest this year.
On my way home, I popped into the nearby Wendy’s to get a celebratory frosty and caught up with Tim and Mara, eating a meal with younger family members. They were heartened by the turnout.
“It’s great that people our age are still enthusiastic,” Tim said, pointing to his hat, emblazoned with the words “Chinga ICE,” for me to photograph. “I talked to many veterans here today; they’re upset at how things are going.”
While the rally itself had dwindled from 1,000 to dozens of people by the time I arrived, the emotion lingered — an intergenerational echo of conviction, resilience and humor. What struck me most was how many of these elders carried both the muscle memory of protest and the wisdom of age. The tone may be calmer now — fewer chants, more conversation — but the resolve remains.
And one thing hasn’t changed: community. Nearly everyone I interviewed, when they saw my “Rockridge News” badge, smiled and said, “I love that paper. It makes me feel like I’m part of something.”
For me, too, this little assignment was a reminder of connection. That bright blue hat and “PRESS” sign opened up stories I wouldn’t have heard otherwise — proof that curiosity, like protest, keeps us young.
Photo by Judith Doner Berne
Photo of the author, Nancy Wright
