Forsythe Saga | Muriel Murch

Written and read for you by Muriel Murch with WSM by my side.

When Winifred Forsyte’s husband, Montague Dartie, stole the pearl necklace that her father had given her for her wedding and then gave it to his mistress before setting sail to South America, she said to her brother: “It’s the limit!” And now, across the country, Americans reacting to the nine weeks of this new government administration, are reaching the same conclusion, with all the bombastic fireworks and scrawled penmanship erupting from the Oval Office at the same time. At first it was hard to see where to focus – which was the point of the mass display of bogus authority. As we each tried to settle on something that meant America to us: immigration, freedom from persecution, a land of opportunity, many people returned to The National Parks that display the majesty of all that this country can offer.

Protest at the Bear Valley Visitors Center in Pt Reyes, California

The Parks belong to the people of America and the people who work in them, coming from all walks and persuasions of life, work for the American people. The wild actions of the President and his puppeteer Elon Musk are enraging ordinary folks from the Rockies to the Mid-West plains and the rivers that join them. The limit may not yet have been reached but it is getting close. The forests and parks are the American Jewels, beloved by peoples of all parties, persuasions, income levels, rural and city dwellers alike. And they – we the people – are coming together, supporting where we can the rangers and Park personal dismissed out of hand by the playboys in Washington.

What are they thinking, strutting around the corridors, cruising into conference and press rooms, wandering along halls leading to nowhere in particular? They are plucking what seems like easy pickings off of the laden fruit of America. Things that they don’t use. When was the last time Elon drove a Tesla into Yosemite National Park? Was there even a first time? It is more than doubtful. Up one aisle and down another he trolls with his shopping cart, as if in a giant supermarket of cheap value. The park service here, an unforgivable rudeness to another nation there, a Palestinian immigrant kidnapped. It is enough to shake up America to join together in saying ‘This is the limit’ But when and how will that be reached? The display of bad manners – the politest words I can find – shown in the Oval Office last week for President Zelensky’s visit was another limit reached.

And this one – that one – has left lasting damage to how North America, not Central or Southern America, is seen across the world. ‘No taxes to Kings’ was the battle cry of the first republic but now this America is being ravaged by a despot and his henchmen.

Sunflower Seeds at an event for guests to take and spread in support of the Ukraine.
Photo by WSM

Meanwhile across the Atlantic, on the boarders of Europe, a real King is welcoming President Zelensky as he should be welcomed, with good manners and concern for his well-being, reminding us all it’s not the title – it’s the person. King Charles III is joined by his Prime Minister and the leaders of a still free and Democratic Europe. Which is poised – understanding that the rise of fascism starts with a slow simmer before reaching a boil. And then it can boil over, like an unwatched pot of soup to be mopped up – or not – by those left in the kitchen that is Europe. The Ukraine, sits boiling on the stove rising to a boil in the kitchen that is Europe, the heart-beat of any home. And America is a home to those who were here before the rest of us who arrived – in free will or slavery. For we all came as immigrants, some in fear, struggling from persecution, some in greed seeking opportunities and some with good heart looking for a better life without the need to hurt another.

As we live, around the block, up the street, in the cul-de-sac or along the lonely highway that weaves from farm to farm our families grow together in community. We celebrate, mourn and disagree together. These times make us who we are. And when some outside force threatens the community – disease, natural disasters, governmental bureaucracy and corruption – then we put aside our differences and come together, clustering like bees to protect our queen, in this case the integrity and sanity of North America who is in danger. The people know that a killer wasp has entered the Bee hive and is threatening all that work there.

It is beginning, the gathering of small groups leading to larger ones, coming together forming bigger and stronger communities and blessed Bernie Sanders out there stomping around in the midwest states. So far it has the smell of “We’re right behind you,” not too many daring to stand along side or step up to the lead. Sanders is a Truth Bomber. He has nothing to lose by speaking out. And as Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, said of Sanders’ efforts. “You look around — who else is doing it? No one. My hope is that the dam will break in terms of Democrats going on the offense … We need to take the argument directly to the people.” “It’s not about whether Bernie should or shouldn’t be doing this. It’s about that we all should,” she said. “He is unique in this country, and so long as we are blessed to have that capacity on our side, I think we should be thankful for it.” Ocasio-Cortez said she will join him on the road in the coming weeks planning solo appearances in Republican-held congressional districts in Pennsylvania and New York — as now local House Republicans are reluctant to face the angry questions coming at them in their Town hall meetings. Rather than blame the chap sitting in the swirling chair in the Oval office they are turning on Elon Musk and that is a good start.

At this time we feel the threats coming at us nationally and globally and cluster even closer. Each national park is holding rallies that are growing each week and beginning to unite in mass gatherings. Citizens march and protest outside of Tesla Dealerships. Decals are stuck on parked Telsas in America and Europe. They are saying no – and at some point that no could overflow into a protest that will rise from a simmer to boiling point giving this government the excuse to bring in the national guard, pitting Americans agains Americans.

It is called Civil War.

This has been A Letter from A. Broad. Written and read for you by Muriel Murch.

And as always supported by https://www.murchstudio.com

Recorded by WSM Written, read and knit together by MAM

Waiting for the next Prime Minister photo by Jane Barlow

It has barely been three weeks since September 6th, when a rumpled Prime Minister Johnson arrived at the Balmoral Castle gates to hand in his card at 11 a.m. In quick succession, he was followed by the tight-skirted Truss. It was a long morning for our Queen, and for those watching with concern – seeing the Queen holding onto a stick with one hand while smiling and extending the other used and bruised hand, to Liz Truss. The Queen’s head looking large on her diminished frame, her nose pinched – straining for air – while no amount of lipstick covered the cyanosis of her lips. Tuesday was a brave day. Barely 48 hours later the Queen died as she had lived, in service to her nation. The heavens opened, pouring down their tears and we are still grieving.

Accompanied by The Princess Royal and her husband Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, the Queen’s coffin slowly made its way south to London to lie in state at Westminster Hall where over two hundred and fifty thousand people from all walks of life filed past to pay their respects and say ‘Thank you Ma’am for your service’. Did she cover all the bases? One could, if one chose, fault her for some family issues, but not on duty to her country as she saw it; honoring and hosting state and national moments or those small engagements around the country. The late Queen Mary was paraphrased as saying ‘We are the Royal Family and we love Infrastructure.’ We all feel a little stronger and stand a little straighter, when someone else shows interest and gratitude for what we do.

Her Majesty The Queen opens Parliament 2017 wearing – a hat –

The Saturday after the Queen’s death I wove my way behind Piccadilly through the lines of police vans parked all around St. James’ Square, then down the stairs behind that Palace to enter The Mall that felt like the nave of a giant cathedral. There was a quietness in this crowd, many carrying flowers and leading children, that was to last for days all across the country. People walked along the pavements to Buckingham Palace, sometimes with a pause as King Charles III and the Queen Consort were driven in and out of those palaces, Buckingham and St. James’. They were back and forth all afternoon and one hoped that they got at least 15 minutes for a sit-down cup of tea. The Autumn skies tossed grey and white clouds over the park trees, but the rain stayed hidden behind them.

What does it mean for a young girl to take a vow to follow a life that was chosen for her rather than she chose? It happens in all walks of life, people are lucky if they get to live their dreams. It takes an effort and strong will to turn your given path into your chosen one. The Queen embraced her role until she could relish it and turn it to her desiring.

There are fewer of us alive now who remember Queen Elizabeth’s coronation than who will remember her death and funeral. John Galsworthy wrote in the Forsythe Saga at the death of Queen Victoria. “We shan’t see the like of her again”. But now we have this Elizabeth was our Queen for 70 years. Even in death, the Queen managed something that the government could not – as the Transport Unions and the Royal Mail held off their strikes until next month.

At the announcement of the Queen’s death, all the television stations began airing their programs that they had been building for this moment. Planning for the Queen’s funeral had begun when she turned 79. All the news Broadcasters wore black. Huw Edwards, the senior news anchor man at the BBC – and he a Welshman – allowed himself to show some emotion. Those who wished to see the films, the footage, forever repeated could do so. It was like a huge family album of our family, our Queen, for as she vowed to give her life, be it long or short, to our service, she did – and we claimed her and the family as our own, rejoicing in the good times and fussing at the bad. The television stations played ten full days of coverage, back and forth with all the joys and the horrors replayed over and over again, probing into a life lived in the spotlight of her public, her people. The new King’s state and public greetings and meetings were followed in flashy detail. The pageantry and processions built like gentle love-making to the climax as the coffin was carried from Westminster Hall to Westminster Abbey. Giving his address from the pulpit of the Abbey – Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury – looked down across the nave at the congregation seated below. He spoke of our collective grief, the Queen’s abiding Christian faith, and service to duty, and then let out his zinger: “People of loving service are rare in any walk of life. Leaders of loving service are still rarer.”

The service over, it was on to Wellington Arch where the coffin was transferred to the royal Hearse then driven slowly on through Hyde Park to join the A 30 road to Windsor. Just as she had begun her journey from Balmoral through the countryside of Scotland now she returned to the farms and lanes of Berkshire.

The Queen’s Corgi Dogs return from Balmoral Castle

The flags at all the royal residences flew at half-mast until the day after the State Funeral when the official period of public mourning ended. The Royal family and some of us will continue as long as we need.

In our little London garden is a David Austin Queen Elizabeth rose – still blooming in autumn. My mother bought it after my father died when she had to start a new life in her new home. Now it is with us. The same rose was among the flowers on the Queen’s coffin – in remembrance of things past but not forgotten.

This has been A Letter from A. Broad, written and read for you by Muriel Murch.