I may have been a mathematics teacher by profession but much like my father and my husband I am an avid fan of history. There is no greater tale than that of humankind attempting to create a better world. When I walked Whitehall Street from my hotel in London on a cold and blustery day toward Westminster, the site of the Parliament of Great Britain, I was beyond excited to finally be inside the halls and rooms where so much history has unfolded over the centuries.
Our first stop was in Westminster Hall built in the eleventh century by William II. It is the oldest section of the Parliament installation and a beautiful example of medieval architecture. It has been the site of the trials of Thomas Moore and Charles I. It has been the place where Nelson Mandela and Barack Obama spoke in an historic moment. Most recently it served as a place of repose when Queen Elizabeth II died. Thousands of British citizens moved past to pay tribute to their beloved queen just as people did in times past. Westminster Hall is a glorious place where one can almost hear the whispers of history rising up to the magnificent roof that is a reminder of the glory medieval craftmanship.
From this important site the tour winds its way through magnificent halls and rooms where kings, potentates, lawmakers and common folk have walked over the centuries as the British Parliament evolved from a gathering of lords and men of high birth whose job was to consult with the king to the democratic Houses of both Lords and Commons of today. Now the KIng Charles II is a figurehead with only ceremonial power because the final decision making now falls on the the two Houses where laws are made by representatives of the people from England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland.
While I enjoyed seeing places such as the robing room and niches where the kings and queens ruled it was in the two chambers of Parliament that I sensed the true impact of history and the evolution of the powers of everyday citizens. I felt the most community with the House of Commons knowing that it is the place where the voices of everyday people are most likely to be heard. I could almost hear and feel the march of history rumbling forward sometimes smoothly and sometimes ending with attempts to blow it all away.
While we were not allowed to sit in the gallery of the House of Commons I found myself drawn to the idea of being a fly on the wall while the procedures are taking place. I think I would truly enjoy observing the legislative process in action. It is both different and somewhat like the system that we developed in the United States and is certainly a distant cousin of the democracy of America.
We spent hours staring reverantly at every painting and artifact and taking in the importance of the place. Somehow it seemed fitting that Big Ben, the venerable clock built near the installation, began to chime just as we were leaving. It was a reminder that time marches on and that the spirit of all the people who came before us lives on in the progress that we humans slowly make.
It was a Saturday in London and the streets were bustling with both tourists and citizens going about the routines of their lives. Somehow we felt that talking a long detour back to the hotel was exactly what we needed so that we might have time to talk about the wonder of what we had just seen. We headed toward St. James Park past the Churchill War Rooms and government offices. The Horse Guards and Number 10 Downing Street were just down the street from where our feet kept moving as though we were not yet ready to end the glory of the day. The trees in the park were shedding leaves in the strong wind that chilled our faces and blew our hair askew. Soon we were standing in front of Buckingham Palace where we rested a bit before circling in the direction of Green Park where we continued to wander and talk with a sense of awe.
Eventually we encountered a tube station and took a ride to Bloomsbury where we suddenly realized that we were hungry from the thousands of steps we had taken that day. There we enjoyed a sandwich and continued our discussion of the problems that the world had tackled in the past and the ones that were daunting humans in the present. We had ideas but no perfect solutions which seems to be the way of the political world for all time.
We eventually walked some more and found a shop where we both purchased warm woolen hats to cover our ears that were chafing from the cool winds that we had subjected them to all afternoon long. Suddenly we realized how far we had strolled and how late in the day it was so we reluctantly returned to our hotel. There we saw the street filled with police cars and barricades because of a massive protest in Trafalgar Square. Somehow it seemed fitting that such a movement would be happening as ordinary citizens voiced their concerns. It was in keeping with the history that we had viewed.
For us it was time to rest because we would be traveling north the following day. I slept well sensing from the journey of our day that humans and history have ways of eventually setting things right as long as democracy remains alive. My determination to make sure that nothing ever changes that in my own country grew ever stronger on that day.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 