Yesterday, I went to the No Kings protest in Manhattan with Mom, her friend, her friend’s son, and his girlfriend. I was part of that massive throng of people you may have seen in some video clip somewhere, looking like a huge movement, a force.

But from my vantage point (about six feet above the ground), it seemed different… smaller. Perhaps I’m missing something, but I feel unfulfilled.

We got off the subway in Times Square, walked to the table on the south side of Bryant Park staffed by the son’s union, picked up signs and chant lyric sheets, and then joined the many, many people walking ever so slowly to Fifth Avenue, and then down Fifth Avenue to 26th Street. During the two-hour walk, I saw a lot of signs—some clever and artistic, many simpler. I heard a lot of chants—most of them rhymed, none of them were truly memorable. I saw a lot of people happy to be there together, despite the rain. And we walked.

And we got to 26th Street, and there were several organizers with a large banner saying, “This is the end of the march. Please disperse east and west. Thanks for coming.” I looked around and thought “That’s it? We came, we walked down Fifth Avenue, and we’re done?”

Perhaps I’m living in the past, but I was expecting some sort of stirring “I Have a Dream” oratory. Some call to action. Some plan to take the might of so many people united and actually do something.

Did I miss something?