A snowed-out weekend in New York still made room for a moment of unexpected clarity. In this episode, Stephen reflects on a matinee performance of Ragtime at Lincoln Center Theater—and how its story of upheaval, hope, and human striving feels uncannily aligned with our present moment.
Set in 1906, Ragtime captures a nation cracking open into something new, where beauty and heartbreak exist side by side. But it wasn’t just the performance that lingered—it was a passage from the playbill, reminding audiences that sitting together, listening to a shared story, is itself a quietly revolutionary act. Turning off our devices. Paying attention. Looking to our left and our right. Remembering that we belong to one another.
Against the backdrop of cultural chaos and algorithm-driven distraction, Stephen explores how small, embodied choices—presence, kindness, shared attention, commitment to the common good—take on outsized significance. Not a top-down solution, but a bottom-up reclamation of what it means to be human.
In a fractured time, this episode is an invitation to stay human, stay present, and keep reminding one another that these seemingly small acts still matter.—————————————————
Manuscript:
Ragtime
Melissa and I had planned a theater immersion in New York City last weekend... and likely you can guess that most of it got snowed out, but not before we managed to squeeze in fabulous matinee performance of Ragtime at Lincoln Center. Among other things, Ragtime is about the beauty and the heartbreak that are fused together during those times when our world is cracking open into something new. The year was 1906, a raucous time when America was changing into a new version of itself, with so many opportunities as our country moved forward coupled with so very much pain in that struggle. It was an excellent production... and considering current conditions, a timely revival of a classic Broadway show. Go see it if you can. Terrific cast, best singing I’ve heard on Broadway in a long while. And in the playbill, there was an unusual welcome written by Lear deBessonet, the new Artistic Director of the Lincoln Center Theater. Here’s the last paragraph of what she wrote: “In the last 120 years, we have felt tectonic cultural shifts time and again. Every generation, every person, has its own version of their Ragtime year. As we sit on the cusp of America’s 250th year as a nation, there are few things that feel so quietly revolutionary as sitting in a room together listening to a story. And yet, it’s deeply human--to sit in congregation with one another and share in these tales reminds us that we are never alone. Alongside the 41 actors on the stage and 28 musicians, there are also dozens of crew and staff, those 1000 audience members, and the eight million New Yorkers beyond. We are all part of this ragged yet awe-inspiring fabric. Look to your left, look to your right. I am so happy that you are here.”
That I read that on the same day as the events unfolding in Minneapolis felt jarringly serendipitous to me. That to really see and hear the actors, musicians, technicians along with the fully engaged members of the audience, to consider the story unfolding on the stage, required everyone turning off their electronics, and paying attention to the in-person human dynamics. It was the humanness and humaneness of the experience that suggests an antidote to our current cultural chaos. I know, it seems such a small intervention to stay focused on what it means to be human-- engaged with actual physical people, intentional in compassionate acts of kindness, alert to and participating in a politics that advances the cause of the common good-- to look to the left and the right walking along the street instead of down into an electronic rabbit hole of amplified algorithms. But these small choices take on a revolutionary character today. That’s not a top-down agenda, but a bottom-up reclamation of the perennial values at the heart of our humanity. And I’ll continue to repeat that we need to remind and support one another in this over and over.
