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11/04/2025

Today’s blog

Lynn Murphy Mark

Feeling it

Here it is, nearly 5 AM and I want to write a blog without knowing what to write about. I know it is election day, and there are some very important races that may give us an indication of what next year’s midterms will be like. Last night Rachel Maddow showed slide after slide of poll results, indicating that 47 is “underwater” on every issue. And not just by 5 or 10 points either. 

I am exhausted by this administration. Even knowing that millions of Americans don’t support 47 is not always enough to lift this little fog. There are still millions of Americans who believe that he is doing all the right things to make us a Christian Nationalist country. As much as I have tried to stay above the fray and not get caught up in the mess we are in, I just can’t pull it off sometimes. Everywhere I look there is evidence of wrongdoing by the elites in DC. 

Thugs in masks are hurting people in our cities, with no consequences. Many probably innocent people are being blown out of Southern waters – I believe the death toll in the Caribbean and Pacific is over 60 souls in small boats. We now have a Department of War run by an unhinged problem drinker. 47 wants to send troops into cities to keep us “safe”. Judging by their tactics, the goons that are already there have no interest in peaceful anything. They will throw people on the pavement for no obvious reason, and last night I saw a picture of a 14 year old girl being zip-tied, for God’s sake.

But despite all this, there is kindness in most of us and I have a memory that brings me joy. This Saturday, Cassondra and I attended a play at the Repertory Theatre called “The Brothers Size”. It is a very powerful story about the relationship between two brothers, one of whom has just gotten out of prison. It lasted for a solid hour and a half and left me disturbed and pensive.

As we were leaving the theater, we were walking behind an elderly lady using a cane and doing some shuffling with her right foot. When we got outside there was a small ramp to get to the sidewalk. The lady in front of us must have caught her foot on a crack, and down she went. Fortunately she was not injured and there were enough of us around to help her back up. She stood there getting her bearings while her companion went for the car. I stayed with the lady.

The three young Black men who were the actors in the play came out that same exit. Somehow they knew that the lady had fallen, and they stopped to speak to her to be sure she was alright. She said she was, in a very subdued voice. One of the young men was watching her carefully. After a few minutes he said a few precious words: “You are a beautiful woman.”, he said quietly. He looked at her and took her hand. For just an instant, there was such a loving exchange between them, that I almost teared up. I wanted to give this tall, young, kind man a hug for the comfort he gave the lady. I didn’t, but I sure wished I could. I hope he felt the power in his words and actions.

In that moment, there were no racial tensions, no separation between human souls, no anger, no judgment, just loving kindness. Even though we had all just witnessed a performance full of rage, sorrow, dreams unfulfilled, and the spoken, lived true story of the white supremacy with which the young men grew up, there was a little knot of compassion on a sidewalk in Webster Groves.

Just writing about this gives me hope and I can feel myself relaxing into the truth that “this too shall pass”. I realize that I can’t afford to be gloomy for too long because there is nothing to be gained by staying fixed in despair. I send thanks to a young man who stopped when he didn’t need to. He recognized another soul in distress and shared his kindness with her. I remember that there is a lot of that still happening and as long as this is true, there is hope for us.