LOS ANGELES — I know a lot of people who suffer from a chronic malady that gets worse each time there's news out of Washington. Supporters of the current president of the United States might refer to this condition as a side effect of Trump derangement syndrome, but it's more like Trump fatigue syndrome.

Symptoms can include a desire to tune out for a spell, stick your head in an ice bucket, or find another way to numb the senses.

But some brave souls, instead of looking away, step into the fray.

Bert Voorhees, for instance.

I came upon his name while reading coverage of the Monday evening demonstration at City Hall in downtown L.A., where protesters railed against the bombing of Iran — the latest example of Trump acting as if he's king of the world and answerable to nobody, including Congress, the courts or the American people.

With missiles flying, civilians dying and chaos spreading, Voorhees told USA Today that the Iranian ayatollah's violence against his own people did not justify a U.S. military assault. In Voorhees' mind, it's American democracy that is under attack.

"If people don't stand up and get loud about this, all together right now, we're not going to have a country," the northeast San Fernando Valley resident said. "So, it's time for people to get serious, get in the streets."

I called Voorhees, a retired lawyer and teacher, and we had a long chat that continued the next day over lunch in Montrose. We're both in our 70s, and we both have trouble aligning the country we're living in with the vision we had for it as younger men. Who could have anticipated years of bullying and name-calling, pathological lying about a "stolen" election or the routing of congressional and judicial opposition?

I confessed to Voorhees that I completely misread the direction this country was heading back when the first Black president in history termed out in 2016. I would have bet that as a more diverse and tolerant population came of voting age, old divisions would fade slowly into history and the U.S. would keep pushing toward higher elevations.

Silly me.

Maybe it was the naively wishful thinking of a parent wanting his kids to live in a more evolved country rather than one filled with Neanderthal notions about science, medicine, climate, and non-white immigrants.

To Voorhees, these are reasons to raise hell rather than to lose faith, and he's not alone. The No Kings rallies in greater L.A. were massive. Home Depot civilian patrols have looked out for hard-working neighbors because "silence is violence." The whistle brigades are defending their communities.

Denise Giardina, a Huntington Beach book seller and friend of Voorhees', has been on Home Depot patrols in her community and said planning various political actions is practically a full-time job.

"I have daughters and wanted them to have more rights than me, and I'm not sure that's going to happen," Giardina said.

When Giardina needs a break, she goes for a hike, which serves as a reminder that a single protest doesn't change the world, but small steps matter.

"Sometimes you can't think about the end," she said. "It's just one foot in front of the other. It's not government that's going to save us. It's going to be the people."

Roseanne Costantino, a Silver Lake graphic designer whose activism includes knocking on doors during election cycles, sending postcards and making phone calls, has been on the front lines with Voorhees and shares his sense of duty.

"I mean, for people to say, 'I can't watch the news, I'm numb, I'm overwhelmed, I have to tune out,' is so much privilege talking, because they can tune out, because they're safe," Costantino said.

"I find it's like a gateway drug," she added, "because even people who have never done anything activist in their life eventually find themselves at a protest and are buoyed by the community and the sense of purpose and expression of opposition, but also of the love of democracy."

To Voorhees, "democracy is a privilege," and your participation does not end with voting. "You've got to make sure they do the right things," he said, "and that requires paying attention and supervising them, if you will. Politicians are supposed to work for us."

Voorhees told me that under President Obama, when drones were used in targeted overseas killings, he took to the streets in protest.

"I'm an equal opportunity activist, but we just haven't had in my lifetime a person so determined to destroy democracy," Voorhees said. "I called Reagan a fascist, and Reagan felt like a fascist until I met this man, who is the head of a fascist movement in this country."

I wagered that the bombing of Iran by the America-first president — who promised to end rather than start wars — was Trump's way of projecting strength at a time of weakness. Many of the president's true believers are applauding, but it seems that nothing was learned from past Middle East meddling that ended badly, and with no thoughtful consideration of what comes next, Epic Fury could be followed by Epic Quagmire.

Voorhees insists this wasn't just a show of might, but an act of distraction.

From the Epstein files, for instance. From the empty promises about lower prices for groceries and consumer goods, the droopy favorability ratings, midterm election fears and the mess created by tariffs that cost American merchants millions of dollars and were declared illegal.

Voorhees is mad about all of that, but made a point of clarification.

He's not demoralized.

"The arc of the universe bends toward justice," Voorhees said, "but it doesn't do it steadily. There are retreats. Two steps forward, one back. One step forward, three back. We're in one of those periods. … But we can overcome, and I believe in the long run we probably will."

Minneapolis is the model, he said. When two innocent people were killed in immigration raids, the community came together and rose in protest, forcing a retreat of Trump's forces and sparking a national conversation about the brutal tactics.

"Minneapolis pushed back against that with humanity, and that's the future we want to build," Voorhees said. "That's the future Martin Luther King Jr. always wanted. That's the beloved community. That's the ticket."

Things will change only if "we get up off the couch," said Voorhees, who attended another antiwar protest Saturday on the steps of City Hall with a sign that asked, "Who Would Jesus Bomb?"

"You can march ahead with a heavy heart and a downcast head, or dance ahead with a smile and a tune on your lips, hand in hand with people you care about. Why not do that? All empires fall. All kings and tyrants fail in the end. Sometimes it's fast. Sometimes it's slow. But that day is coming and, as the Twin Cities proved, love is stronger than hate, if only just."

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