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Participation in my local hands off protest brought a flood of memories. Been there done that. Almost 55 years ago, I marched in Austin, Texas against the Viet Nam war. Little did I realize my protesting days were not over.

HANDS OFF 1970

The trouble began on April 29, 1970, when President Richard Nixon announced he was sending troops into Cambodia. Then four students were killed on May 4^th, at Kent State, leaving the campus of the University of Texas in an uproar.

The University of Texas Ad Hoc Strike Committee called for a boycott of classes to protest:

the involvement in Cambodia,
the trial of Black Panther Bobby Seal,
the city of Austin’s denial of a solicitation permit to the Community United Front,
the arrest of 10 anti-ROTC demonstrators, and
the Kent State deaths.

A kerfuffle later occurred between students and police on the nearby Texas State capitol grounds involving nights sticks and tear gas.

With the anticipation of violence, armed police stationed themselves nearby and a helicopter flew overhead. On our way to the UT tower for a protest meeting, my roommate and I stopped to take a picture with the armed Texas State trooper camped out near our dorm.

By Friday, a crowd estimated at around 20,000 gathered to march through the city even though the Austin city council had denied a parade permit. We were advised to stay on the sidewalks. As the march began, word swirled through the crowd that a federal judge had granted us the right to march in the streets. We joyfully hit the pavement.

HANDS OFF 2025

On April 5, 2025, I gathered with 111 brave souls in La Grange, Texas, at the courthouse square only 65 miles from my first act of defiance. This time, however, I took a leading role, agreeing to handle first aid and acting as a monitor. Wearing a safety vest and carrying a whistle, I asked protestors to not engage with any hecklers and stay peaceful.

Then the opposition arrived. I cheerfully greeted the Trump supporters. One of them got snippy with an anti-Trump protester and my partner calmed the frazzled anti-Trump woman down. Fortunately, the pro administration supporters moved down to the end of the street that was lined with a cement planter box. Our line stopped several yards from them, so I took up that position to ward off any contact the two groups might have.

Being mindful of potential danger, I located myself inside the empty planter. I figured that any vehicle trying to run me over would be thwarted as it is impossible to build up enough speed to damage the barrier. Then, too, the planter makes a great cover when the bullets start flying. (This is Texas after all.) And yes, I own a pistol and have a concealed carry permit. However, I did not pack heat. To me, hiding is the better option.

Keeping an eye on the Trumpers, I waved my American flag all the while holding a sign saying, “Stop the Hate.”

As luck would have it, the opposition only mustered 10 participants and there were no injuries. I lived to enjoy Mexican food and a margarita afterwards.

HANDS OFF FINAL THOUGHTS

Until I read about the protests in my UT yearbook, I did not realize the potential danger we were in. Communication was by word of mouth only, and I had no idea students had been subjected to tear gas at the capitol.

As an American, I believe my duty is to do what I can to protect the Constitution.