It looks like the numbers for the No Kings denonstrations were at least 9 million. We went to the demonstration on the DC/MD line in Friendship Heights. Just over 500 people had RSVP’d, and I assume there were more than that number in attendance, mainly neighborhood residents with signs and flags. Most fun was watching the cars passing by, honking and waving, and especially the large trucks with their loud horns that normally you would not want to hear, but this time you cheered as loudly as they honked.

The crowd downtown was obviously larger, and there were demonstrations in many, maybe most, neighborhoods in the metro area.

We probably all saw the photos of the mammoth gatherings in big cities, like Philadelphia, New York, and Minneapolis, and also sizeable demonstrations in places like Boise and Salt Lake City. And 500 in Festus MO.

If Trump keeps acting like he does, the next time the demonstrations will be even bigger. Poor Trump. He has really painted himself into a corner.

Following No Kings, we got  to work at home, preparing for a sort of Havdalah pot luck dinner party for our regular group of twelve. I say sort of pot luck, because while everyone contributes, they do so under strict orders from the menu planning subcommittee. Last night, we had Israeli salad, hummus and stuff, crudities, spanokopita, salmon, squash kugel, imam baldi, cous cous salad, and things I have forgotten, plus cake, ice cream and fresh fruit.

We celebrated the 89th birthday of one of our group, a young 89. But – to show you how old we all are – two of our group didn’t come because they overslept. Did you ever oversleep for a 6:30 p.m. dinner party? The food and company were first rate.

Today, we have 5 year old grandson with us, as his sister and parents have some event at the Japanese embassy. Grandaughter Joan is part of a school group concentrating on Japan and this is one of the events connected with that.

But now Izzy is eating his mac and cheese, practicing the Four Questions. He is telling his grandmother about the good pharoah who existed before Moses was even born. His grandmother asked him where he learned that (previously unknown) story. His response: “It just popped into my mind.”

That reminds me of the story of the young boy who returned from Sunday school and told his father what he learned: “The Jews were slaves in Egypt and ran away. They got to the Red Sea and didn’t know what to do, but God sent rocket ships to carry them safely across, and sent death rays to attack the Egptians.”

His father looked aghast and said: “Did they really teach you that?”

His son responded “No, but if I told you what they really taught me, you wouldn’t believe me.”