Yesterday the so-called president announced that he'll be coming to Maine on Friday to tour a plant in Guilford that makes the medical swabs being used for Covid tests. Guilford is very close to Harmony, where I lived for so many years, and to Monson, where I still teach. So I am appalled. In the midst of such anguish and unrest, not to mention the terrible management of our public health emergency, this monster decides to drop in on poor rural America and flash his bad credit.

The governor has asked him, point-blank, not to come to Maine. And of course he may get scared off and decide to retreat back into his bunker. We are seriously considering driving up as a family to take part in protests against his visit, though I suspect figuring out the timing of his arrival will be difficult. I don't know what we'll end up doing, but I am so angry.

Big demonstration in Portland yesterday, where the police here are behaving responsibly enough, as far as I can tell. Chicago is a mess of looting, and my son stayed up all night listening to the police scanner and trying to track activity by the sound of sirens. He is anxious to be part of a peaceful protest, equally anxious to have nothing to do with the looting chaos, which seems to involve a distinctly different group of people. He'll call me this morning and update me on whatever he knows.

Deep breath, deep breath.