My husband watched as I tossed a Real Simple magazine and three paperback mysteries into the canvas tote, which already held a ridiculous floppy hat, a fabulous pair of earrings, a blow-dryer, a bottle of gin, four limes and an industrial-sized bag of tortilla chips.

Monday is Memorial Day, marking the unofficial start of summer. Millions of Americans will celebrate with a road trip, or a backyard barbecue, or a day at the lake.

You may have seen them at the Apple Blossom Festival last weekend. You may have heard them. They were there, this small and ghastly group, at the parade and the food fair, holding up oversized posters of bloody fetuses, yelling about murder and genocide and hell. Maybe they yelled at you, or…