The Republican National Convention began yesterday in Cleveland and with it a national, collective flinching, as we await the hit of this week's 'what next'? With fifty thousand visitors made up of delegates, members of the press and demonstrators, proctored by massive security and police presence—the possibilities seem provocative at best.

Bearing wildly opposing ideologies are the amped-up Trump fans and those filled with dread at the implications of his rhetoric, each moths to his fiery bombast for contradictory reasons. That this candidate's convention has landed just now, amid a terrible collection of weeks, feels incendiary.

As we hear that Donald Trump is shape-shifting deliberately into a neo-Richard Nixon, a sad sense of "Oh yeah, it's this again" has miserably settled over us at civil rights, Black Lives Matter, women's rights, the ERA, abortion, anger at U.S. involvement in Vietnam, anger at U.S. involvement in the the Middle East, anger with the police, and under it all, then and now, the shifting tectonic plates of global change forcing us to rebalance and repair and rebuild, which is painful.

As we look through the images of the 1972 RNC, we are awed by their powerful and illuminating view. Time lays bare the sincerity and the truth of protest with the heavy equipment of 20/20 hindsight. So today, while listening to a lot of hot air and pomp coming from Ohio, we will spend the day looking back to that convention and its dramatic, illustrative cast of characters, with our resident cultural historian Laura McLaws Helms.