Latest news with #CynthiaRobinson
Yahoo
19 hours ago
- Politics
- Yahoo
Thousands rally at 'No Kings' protest in Newark on Trump's birthday
Carol McCormick, a Delaware native, can still remember protesting the Vietnam War. 'I've seen my country go through a lot of tough things,' she said. 'But if we can stop being so afraid, we can really stand up and do something.' McCormick was one of the thousands of people who participated in a 'No Kings' protest at Old College Hall in Newark on June 14 to make a difference. All generations of protesters, from young to old, in crowns and various paraphernalia, gathered to decry President Donald Trump's military parade in Washington, D.C., on the same day as his 79th birthday. The Newark event was one of at least six "No Kings" protests planned in Delaware on June 14. State Sen. Laura Sturgeon, state Rep. Frank Burns and the Rev. Cynthia Robinson of Newark's New Art United Church led protesters in chants. "We unite today in the face of loud fury," Robinson said in a fiery speech. "We must face it with a love-fueled fire." Delaware Gov. Matt Meyer made a surprise appearance, delivering passionate remarks once again after attending what he called a 'slightly smaller gathering in Wilmington.' 'I am commander of the Delaware National Guard,' Meyer said at one point. 'And we are prepared to stand up and fight back if needed.' Despite messages warning Delawareans of a national crisis, the protest was peaceful and at times even lighthearted. The crowd playfully toyed with a Trump impersonator, seated on stage in a "throne," and booed as he gestured toward his "subjects." A march after the gathering proceeded down Main Street to honking horns and shouts of support. A police presence guided the large group, along with a group of trained volunteers working with organizer Indivisible Newark to ensure the event's safety. "We really wanted to make sure we did this right," organizer Judi Davidson Wolf said. "Safely and peacefully, but still getting our message across." The size of the gathering spoke to Davidson Wolf, giving her hope for what's to come. 'It's incredible to see this many people come together, organizing in the name of what they feel is right; it's way more than we even expected,' she said. 'Seeing this great turnout of community here in Newark is heartening for our future.' This article originally appeared on Delaware News Journal: 'No Kings' protest in Newark brings thousands together against Trump
New York Times
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Sly Stone and the Sound of an America That Couldn't Last
'Landscape' is just one of those words. It's lost all mouthfeel. It implies a sort of vastness — 'the landscape of history,' 'the landscape of man,' 'the commercial baking landscape.' As craft, it connotes comeliness: 'landscape painting.' In action, it exacts beauty through order: a city's landscaper. Sly Stone died on Monday, at 82, and there it was again. He 'redefined the landscape of pop, funk, and rock music,' declared an official news release. It's more like landscapes. But who'd deny the gist? I'm sitting here studying a photo of Stone and his band, the Family Stone, five dudes, two chicks, two white, five black. For a racially traumatized America, here was a landscape that redefined 'landscape,' too. The band was his idea, as were their songs. What they redefined was how much sound and rhythm you could pack into three minutes — often, into less. The opening 15 seconds of their first hit, 'Dance to the Music,' are a blast, like from a launchpad: Greg Errico beats the skins off his drums while Cynthia Robinson screams for you to get up. The horns sound drunk; Freddie Stone's guitar sounds like it's responding to a 9-1-1 call. Then at about the 16th second — mid-flight — the ascending party halts and a doo-wop parachute opens. Harmony and tambourine lilt to earth, whereupon we're exhorted to … dance to the music. Lyrically, all that's happening here is instruction, pronouncement. 'I'm gonna add some bottom,' bellows Larry Graham, 'so that the dancers just won't hide,' before his motorific bass lick starts peeling wallflowers off the wall. This, to paraphrase another Sly gemstone, is a simple song that, musically, teems with, to quote a different gemstone, a vital songwriting and performance philosophy: fun. What else is happening here? Well, the landscapers are celebrating the landscape of themselves. They're warming up, warming us up, banging out their promise of redefinition. Motown, rock 'n' roll, gospel, marching band, jazz, lullaby. For about three years, every one their hits was most of all of those: America's sounds pressed together into radical newness by seven people who dared to embody a utopia that, come 1968, when the band was reaching it apogee, seemed otherwise despoiled. For three years, this band was disillusionment's oasis. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
