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Commentary_______________ Street Roots
« O ct. 16-22.2015
PH O T O S b Y A D A M B A CHER
Finding the light in the darkness
Street Roots Family Breakfast Keynote Address
Marissa Madrigal, former Multnomah
County chair, gave this speech Thursday, Oct.
8, at Street Roots’ Annual Family Breakfast.
’m going to start with a confession.
Lately, I’ve been feeling a little lost, a
little melancholy and unsure of myself in
the face of all these profoundly sad events
and conditions in our community, state and
country. I should feel g re at My job is
amazing. My family is healthy. I have a
million and one things to be grateful for. Ten
years ago, it was my family that was hanging
on to our apartment by our fingernails, but
now, we’re good. Better than good. Probably
the best we’ve ever been. Yet I feel this
sickening unease, like I’m watching a train
wreck play out in slow motion on the pages
of our newspapers and TV screens. And
nothing I do or say or think feels like
enough.
Those Of you who know me well know I
am fundamentally a hopeful, optimistic
person — maybe to a fault But recently,
when I’ve searched for that thread of hope
to sustain me, it’s been tough. Some days it
feels like there are so many terrible things
happening in our world. And some beautiful
things, to be sure, but lately the sadness has
overwhelmed. I hate that Roseburg, which
used to be the name of a town that only
Oregonians traveling 1-5 knew, has become
national shorthand for a nightmare.
A mass shooting occurs almost every day
in our country. Families and individuals are
choosing between obscene rent hikes and
basic necessities like food and health care.
The GOP front-runner wants to round up
families like mine and send us back to
Mexico. Black people and brown people
I
across our country are being gunned down
in the streets by the same people who are
supposed to protect them. The god-awful
headlines are endless, and the complete lack
of regard for each other, the disdain for
simple kindness and respect, is, frankly,
surreal.
And it’s not just the big headlines; it’s the
little ones. IPs’the venom spewed on the
Internet from real people who are
empowered by anonymity to be complete
jerks. It’s the rush to judgment by everyone
about everything. It’s the person so
convinced that the public right of way in
front of theirhouse is theirs alone, that they
put cones in front of their house so that
people can’t park their car their. Even
though they have a driveway - like - a long
one. And a garage.
It’s practically impossible to read the
news and not decide that as humans, we
suck. Like we are all just terrible, terrible
people. They’re terrible because they’re
jerks. I’m terrible because in the face of this
overwhelming ugliness, I just want to give
up.
So, last week I was on a long, four-hour
train ride, by myself. And these were the
A t top, Marissa Madrigal, Multnomah County’s Chief Operating Officer, delivers the keynote
address at the fourth annual Street Roots Family Breakfast, Oct. 8, at the Sentinel Hotel. Above
City Commissioner Nick Fish talks with event goers at the breakfast.
kind of light, sparkly thoughts I was having.
I was in a dark place, worried about the
world and feeling sorry for myself at the
same time when I found unexpected light in
the form of a Street Roots story by
Llewellyn Gannon about Sherrie Jeweline
Navarro H eit Sherrie was a m other of a
5-year-old - as am I - who developed ALS
and chose to end her life.
Confession bonus: I couldn’t click the
story right away when I saw it online. I was
coming home from Seattle, amusing myself
by liking all of Michael Buonocore’s man
bun posts, but I was feeling pretty raw from
being away from my kids for a few days. I
went by the post without clicking a few
times because I knew — it would make me
cry. And there are few things more
embarrassing than being that weird lady
crying in an enclosed space with only
windows for emergency exits.
So I turned to the Huffington Post and
turned up my music, then started to get
mad at myself. Read the story, dam m it
Read i t I argued with me. I just can’t do i t
I’m too tired. I’m too sad already. The
Internet is filled with pictures of Donald
Trump’s terrible hairstyle. Isn’t that torture
enough?!
And then, I don’t even know how I made
the decision, I just found myself on
Facebook again and clicked on the story
before I could talk myself out of i t And the
first thing I see is a beautiful photo of a
woman kissing her son, who could be my
son, or your son, next to a table with half-
eaten birthday cake. H er final birthday cake.
And I lost i t
See KEYNOTE, page 11