You’d have to be on the inside to get the title of my post. Yup. St Fidelis church/cathedral. The cemetery was just a few blocks away set on the open plain. Long long ago the winds were so strong that the local blacksmiths began making iron crosses from scrap materials at hand. It’s unusual.
We met a woman who had lost her husband a year ago to the day and she was visiting the grave site. She struck up a conversation; his sudden death was from a cerebral aneurysm. My specialty. We spoke. I sympathized. The nearest hospital with a neurosurgeon was more than three hours away. Her husband of 60+ years was gone in about 10 days. Sad.
The past several days have been a time of reflection. Media, emails, conversations – direct and overheard, all of this has filled the dialog. It’s different, not the same, visceral unlike ever before. Its too late. This is not a novel or some movie. The ending is not what was expected. We are stuck with this turn of history. Civility and decency seem to have been turned on its head. The obvious is not so. What I read, saw, and heard is not what others experienced. I am bewildered. Others want to demonstrate and protest and resist. The contest is done. There is a winner. We may all be losers. Or not. It’s not over. That is the scary admission. Sometimes I think that it is good to have faith…
After the recent election there has been a good deal of turmoil. I daresay it is worse than any other time. We are deeply divided and this will not change nor will it be better any time soon. There are many calls to a peaceful transition. The passions are high, the sides are opposed, and the opponents are both horrified with each other. This is not a usual time. I feel unclean.
I am in Kansas in the Cathedral of the Plains. There was no one else there, not a soul, and we meditated. I lit a candle of my brother John. A church program talked of the turmoil within the congregation. The sign said enough to make me realize that I am not alone. There are 59 million other voters who disagree with my view. Some I call friends. Others I would rather not know because I cannot understand their vote. And, they cannot understand me. I am sad. But I also know that I am not alone. At a place far from my home, I have found there are those who share the same concern. We may have lost our way but we are not lost. One man one vote, there is virtually nothing else to be done until the next opportunity comes in a couple years. Petitions, demonstrations, protests, marches, all are useless. The vote is done. No one will care about what I say or do now. Only my vote in two years may have any possibility to change things. Don’t forget. I won’t. There will be a reckoning. My vote will count then. To be sure, you will remember then that I did not forget.