If it accomplished nothing else, last Saturday’s No Kings Day of protests felt good.

An estimated 7 million Americans took time from their Saturday routines to march or gather. There were events in every state, about 2,700 of them in all, and they all seemed peaceful and boisterous.

That’s great. You know it had to put a bug up Trump’s ample rear. And the caterwauling that’s followed – that’s precious: We all got paid by George Soros. We’re all Hamas sympathizers. We hate America. We’re all antifa.

Actually, the antifa part is correct. The millions who marched are unapologetically, uninhibitedly, undeniably anti-fascist. That’s why the hell we were there. People railing against antifa should be taken to the nearest national cemetery – or one where someone in their family is buried – and see the OG. The guys who stormed Normandy and Iwo Jima are the Babe Ruths of antifa.

But one criticism that actually bothers me is that the people protesting are a bunch of aging hippies out of touch with the real America.

Because, at least at the protest I attended in Nanuet, New York, most of the 4,500 people standing alongside New York Route 59 were about my age, 71. Many were older. And there were very few people – other than the organizers – younger than 45.

Now, one reason that might be is that Rockland County, the suburban area where I live, is pretty devoid of younger people. Most of my neighbors are around my age. Most of the people I see in the supermarket or the post office are around my age.

In fact, I’m always a little startled when I go someplace – either in Manhattan or on our recent trip to Seattle – where there are so many people in their 20s and 30s. Other than having to accept that “Too Shy Shy” by Kajagoogoo was an actual song from when I was their age, I find hanging around younger people gives me a lift.

What I worry about is that I didn’t see high school students or young adults in the crowd. The people for whom the battle against totalitarianism is being waged.

Maybe they were busy. Saturday is a day for football games. It’s the day when many young people are working at the Shake Shack or the Panera Bread behind the rally in order to earn money for higher education. Apple picking. Pumpkin carving. Shopping at the outlets.

Or maybe they feel as though this doesn’t affect them. Younger people have a harder time seeing the stakes. They’re not used to this.

We were told by our parents about the Depression and World War II. Our not being able to talk about that first-hand makes the idea of Nazis and fascists abstract or curious to our kids – I can’t explain why so many younger people seem enamored with swastika tattoos. Either that or there’s been another periodic outbreak of one of the world’s oldest diseases, antisemitism.

There are indications that more younger people were drawn to Trump’s 2024 campaign than his past garbage spewing. They were bothered by the high cost of living over the past few years, triggered in large part by the supply chain problems resulting from the pandemic. 

Many were also bothered by the two wars that dragged on last year: Russia vs, Ukraine, Israel vs. Hamas. Death and destruction that the United States seemed powerless to stop.

And there’s this issue with gerontocracy. Everybody’s over 70 – hell, some of the leaders in this country are over 80. When are they going to give up power to another generation that has stopped waiting patiently?

For whatever reason, young people stayed away from Nanuet. And we could have used them.

What I hope younger people are finding out is that Trump is not their friend. He doesn’t even comprehend who they are or what they need. He’s joyless, artless and money-mad. He could care less about anyone other than himself and the toadies who suck up to him.

Trump is never going to be a real king, set upon putting one of his worthless offspring on the American throne. But unless there’s some hidden desire to not go through the rigamarole of elections, he’s looking for something a little more permanent for the rest of his miserable life.

I might be dead wrong about this. The kids might have marched in the cities where they feel at home. Where they can feel free to wear funny costumes and devise clever signs. Where this is all fast becoming a matter of quality of life – and even life-and-death for some of the people they care about.

And the younger people who are hip to Trump’s jive seem to be doing the best job fighting the tyranny of Trump’s slow-moving coup.

They instinctively know when to pull out the iPhone or Galaxy to record atrocities in neighborhoods and on city streets. They’re better equipped to throw their bodies in front of masked secret police in Chinatown and on State Street.

It would be nice to have millennials, Gen-Z and Gen Alpha on our side. This fight needs the generations that love Taylor Swift as much as it needs the generations that love James Taylor.