The debate circus came to town, pulling a caravan of promises past a trail of truth

On the train ride over to the Center of the Political Universe Tuesday night, I found myself drawn to a conversation between a couple of teachers seated next to me. They weren’t talking about the global issues debate moderators at the National Constitution Center would later focus on but about the more pressing lack of supplies at their school.

This is as real as it gets in Philadelphia and countless other communities like ours, and nothing like what was about to happen onstage in front of ABC’s cameras.

Just two weeks into the academic year, the teachers commiserated, they were already scrambling. And don’t even get them started on what was passing for sustenance for their students.

“If you’re going to offer a salad, throw a few vegetables in it,” one said in disgust.

I don’t know what school they were talking about, or the particulars of the sad state of salads in our schools. But I do know that despite some improvements, the even sadder state of much of Philly’s educational landscape remains constant.

» READ MORE: School board members who are serving their egos, not their communities have to go | Helen Ubiñas

Just a day after Mayor Cherelle L. Parker declared the first day of school one of “new beginnings” last month, dozens of buildings were closed early because of the lack of adequate air-conditioning in more than 60 schools.

While the women chatted, I scrolled through my phone and saw that just as police were increasing their presence in Center City in anticipation of crowds and protests, there had been a shooting near City Hall. A 23-year-old man was shot on a train platform after a confrontation erupted between two men. A teenager injured his leg while trying to escape the gunfire — a sickening rite of passage for far too many young people in our city.

Once off the train, I passed by a disheveled man asking a police officer if he could spare a bottle of water from the case he was carrying for the throngs of law enforcement who lined the streets, two of whom were giddy over how much overtime they were racking up on the assignment. At least someone was enjoying this spectacle, I thought.

It was nice, though, to see the officer hand the man a bottle of water without hesitation. It was even nicer to see someone actually get something tangible from the political circus that rolled into town with the usual caravan of grand promises.

That’s the running gag of politics, isn’t it? That no matter what party wrestles its way into office, which candidate wins enough of the electorate, even if it’s our preferred choice, the reality for too many Americans — and always, always those most marginalized and those most in need — doesn’t change much. At least never as much as politicians claim it will, if only you’d vote for them.

Families still struggle to make ends meet, young people still wonder if they will ever be able to afford a family of their own, and in too many communities, including Philadelphia, people bury their loved ones while Washington debates and debates and debates the dual scourges of gun violence and the opioid epidemic.

After a few hours of taking in the eclectic mix of sometimes unhinged protesters at the Independence Mall lawn — yeah, I’m looking at you, wannabe influencer who kept switching his allegiances to get the biggest rise out of people “for the ‘gram” — I took one last lap before finding a place to watch the debate.

It was then that I noticed some people sitting quietly in front of a purple banner that read, “Trail of Truth.” The group, of all ages and genders, and who likely held different political views, I’d later learn, were painting makeshift tombstones for a “national cemetery” to memorialize people who have lost their lives to substance use-related causes.

Even in the carnivalesque atmosphere where a trio of protesters dressed as sharks held up signs that read, “Don’t Let Project 2025 Take A Bite Out Of Democracy,” and someone dressed as a rat, the tombstones caught my attention — as did the lack of signaling which candidate the group supported.

That is by design, Brianna Dayton told me. Dayton is a team assistant for Truth Pharm, a Binghamton, N.Y.-based nonprofit dedicated to educating the public through marches and art installations like the Trail of Truth.

And the truth, reinforced for Dayton while traveling with the project, is that the issue is not a partisan one, as evidenced by the Donald Trump supporters who stood by the Kamala Harris supporters to learn more about the project and share their own stories of loss.

As Dayton and I talked, I couldn’t help but think of Kensington, our own ground zero in the national drug crisis, and some of what the trail of truth looks like there — riddled with broken promises overrun with splashy efforts that continue to be uneven at best, and haunted by constant suffering. For those experiencing drug addiction, but also for those forced to navigate their lives around it — even if these days it’s often being kept just a few blocks out of view.

Truth is often a casualty of politics, locally and nationally. And it’s only gotten worse with a former president who not only built his life and stint as president on lies but also spent most of Tuesday’s debate pushing for another shot at leading our country with one outlandish fabrication after another.

I doubt the debate was enough to change anyone’s mind about their chosen candidate — even if one of them came completely undone on stage. But just like those Trump and Harris supporters who were able to stand shoulder to shoulder at the exhibit on the Independence Mall lawn, we know what the truth is.