All It Takes Is A Little Love

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.  

There are moments in life that are wrapped in forever memories. Taking two of my grandchildren to New York City to see The Phantom of the Opera is one of them. I gave each of them an opportunity to choose a musical or play to see and my granddaughter who was still a little girl at the time picked Phantom without hesitation. Her cousin, a boy only a year older, went along with the idea in a gentlemanly fashion even though I think he was a bit hesitant about spending several hours watching a show that did not sound particularly appealing. 

On the appointed evening we dressed to the nines with instructions from our granddaughter who wanted to make a grand entrance in her very best dress. After dinner at Junior’s in Times Square we lined up for the show, buying our granddaughter a special program. As we waited to be let inside she eagerly browsed through the pages explaining who the characters were to her cousin and heightening the expectations for all of us. 

The theater was not large so our seats were quite near the stage. We chatted and smiled as the lights eventually dimmed. After a brief scene at an auction, a chandelier came up for sale and with it an organ boomed out the opening strains of music that would enchant us all throughout the rest of the eveningl. Later over chocolate cake our grandson exclaimed, “They had me as soon as the organ played and the chandelier rose above the audience.”

In the ensuing years The Phantom of the Opera closed on Broadway but it has continued showing in the West end of London for over fifty years. I knew that I had to see this remarkable show in the theater where the story first unfolded and captivated audiences across the globe. On a rainy Friday night my husband and I dressed in our best one more time so that we might take a photo to later share our grand adventure in London with our granddaughter who is now a grown adult. 

We took an Uber from our hotel to the theater and waited outside, first in line under a drizzle that did not dampen our enthusiasm. We were as giddy as my granddaughter had been in the long ago. After what seemed like forever the doors finally opened and we headed upstairs to our seats. 

First we made a stop to have our picture taken in front of a wall of red roses. Then we procured some wine, purchased a program and headed to our seats which turned out to be absolutely perfect. Their location allowed us to snap several photos before the show started and cameras would be prohibited.

In the meantime we met the people sitting around us who seemed to be from places all over the world including some as far away as New Zealand. Unbelievably some of them had never before seen the musical or even listened to the music. We assured them that they would be mesmerized by what they were about to see. 

The scenery was more elaborate than what I had viewed on Broadway and the cast was equal to the best of the best who had performed the lines, songs and dances. The show was every bit as good as I had hoped it would be. The wonder of it was so enormous for me that my emotions got carried away and I cried several times.

Knowing that I was literally in the birthplace of The Phantom of the Opera was the highlight of my trip to London. I don’t know if and when The Phantom will one day close but The Mousetrap has continuously run in London for over seventy years. Perhaps my all time favorite musical will also have the same staying power. Seeing the musical in the place where it first enchanted the world is a treat that everyone should enjoy if given the opportunity. 

I will be thinking about that glorious evening on a rainy night in London for many years to come. Some things are so special that they touch our hearts forever. I can hear that organ and feel the tug on my feelings that the music always creates. The pathos of the characters is unmatched in the arts. The lyricism of the songs is pure brilliance from Andrew Lloyd Weber. I hope that one day I might be able to bring my two grown grandchildren to see the majesty of it all over again. 

Windsor Castle was built by William the Conqueror in 1070. At the time it was a defensive fort designed to guard the western routes to London. Over time it was added to and improved by later kings. Today it is the largest castle still in use in the world. It has been the site of Prince Phillip’s funeral and the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Both Queen Elizabeth II and her husband Phillip are buried there in St. George’s chapel. It is also actively used for state dinners such as the one that President Trump recently attended. It is regularly the location for investitures as well.  

There are multiple ways of reaching Windsor Castle from London. There are trains that regularly travel there from either Paddington or Waterloo stations. Once reaching Windsor it is a five minute walk to the castle. Another common way of travelling there is through the services of a tour bus that includes the trip and a guide to explain the history and importance of the castle. It is also possible to use Uber to get there. Regardless of the method chosen it will take around thirty minutes to arrive. 

We ultimately decided to use Uber because the cost of a tour bus was more than we wished to pay and using the train would involve a great deal more walking than I wanted to do with my bad knees. We reached the castle quickly and with our prepaid tickets were almost instantly allowed inside where we received exceptional audio guides that fully explained everything that we saw. 

A few years back while doing searches for my ancestors I learned that I am one of the many people on this earth who has a relational connection with William the Conqueror. There is an irony in this because it is through my grandmother, Minnie Bell, who was an illiterate country girl who lived a long and happy but difficult life of economic want. The contrast between her reality and those of the kings and queens who once walked around Windsor Castle is beyond description and yet in many ways she was as regal as any royal person who ever lived. 

The main tower of the castle that was built by William the Conqueror is stunning. Sitting on a hill it is visible from a distance and dominates the area with its powerful aspect. It is easy to see how such a place would have discouraged anyone or any group with thoughts of attacking. It is remarkable that it has lasted almost a thousand years and seen more history than I can iterate in this essay. 

It is nestled in a beautiful place with vistas that belie the idea that this was once a fort. There is a gentleness about the land and its flora that is relaxing and uplifting. I found myself imagining royal personages walking along the pathways and enjoying the solace whenever times were not tinged with wars. 

We saw most of the rooms and the collections of paintings, furniture, and accouterments all of which were quite lovely. We walked through the great dining hall where leaders of the world have been entertained. We saw the royal apartments and lovely sitting rooms where I wanted to dally for a time. There were weapons, jewels, china, clothing and great works of art on display. It was indeed a treasure trove of history and artistry. 

Being someone who is mostly interested in people I got as much fun from listening to the comments from the other visitors as I did from hearing the prepared remarks about the castle. In particular there was a group of pre-school age children who were well behaved and filled with interest and questions that were sometimes profound and sometimes incredibly humorous. They added a delightful aspect to the whole affair commenting with innocent honesty that made me smile again and again. One little girl in particular was unafraid to voice her opinions. I laughed when she asked, “How many rooms does someone actually need?”

St. George’s church was wonderful in particular because I knew that so many recent events had occurred there. It was humbling to see the burial places of Queen Elizabeth II and her parents and husband. It was a somewhat simple place contrasting with the glory of other royal churches and cathedrals from the past. I found myself understanding why it had been a place of peace and refuge for the queen. There was a calmness there that made me want to linger.  

We ended the tour watching a royal guard march back and forth with his red coat and bear skin hat. He was entertaining in his adherence to tradition. Somehow he maintained his stance as visitors snapped photos and made comments. He represented a composite of history all in one place. 

After a stroll through the town of Windsor and a small lunch we were filled with wonder but ready to return to our home away from home in London. The Uber driver made his way through heavy afternoon traffic while we gawked at all of the sites along the way, learning a bit more about the neighborhoods surrounding the great city. it had been a glorious day and I felt grateful that I had been able to see the remarkable place that held stories and secrets that spanned a thousand years. I laughed at the silly idea that I might feel justified in calling it my ancestral home. After all I am a descendent of William even if that relationship is not particularly  close so perhaps a bit of all that splendor really is mine to cherish.

Tate Modern is one of London’s most exciting attractions, housing some of the most famous works of art from the twentieth and twenty first century. Best of all it is absolutely free save for special showings that require a small fee. Housed in a building that resembles a storage facility it is a wonder of human creativity and ingenuity where the art almost speaks to each person who views it. 

We went there on a rather cool morning when the employees were installing a new feature from people who and live and work among reindeer. While it was not yet complete it was easy to imagine the impact that the final version was going to be. It was actually exciting to watch the process of setting up a new installation. 

We were eager to see the Picasso pieces and accompanying movie that was currently part of a special presentation of the artist’s work. It was like taking a journey into Picasso’s mind and seeing his paintings up close made them come alive in ways that I had never imagined from photos. I began to fully realize his incredible talent and the depth of the messages that they conveyed. 

The rest of the museum was filled with everything from artistic quilts to classics from well known artists like Matisse and Andy Warhol. Much of the artwork was editorial, drawing attention to everything from the mistreatment of women to political killings. It was so stunning that I became emotionally involved with much of it in a way that explains the popularity of modern art. 

Of course walking on concrete floors for hours can be tiring but we learned that there was a coffee shop at the top of the building. Little did we expect the panoramic views of London that greeted us from the windows that surrounded the room. That sight was a work of art in itself that was like finding a hidden treasure in the middle of a big city. 

We spent much of the morning oohing and awing over the discoveries that we encountered in each room through which we passed. Sometimes it felt almost overwhelming to see so much in one place without huge crowds blocking views and rushing us along. We were able to take our time enjoying each piece and contemplating our feelings about what we saw. 

Eventually we headed for the second phase of the day which was going to Borough market, one of the many outdoor gatherings of vendors that are quite popular in London. Borough Market is much like the farmer’s market that we have in Houston. It features fruit, vegetables, meat, cheese, plants and cooking gear along with several restaurants and food stands. 

It was filled with people and products to the point of almost being overwhelming until we ultimately settled into the flow of things. There was so much that I would have like to purchase but most of it would not have travelled well back to my hometown so I could only browse each stall in the wonder of it all. 

Of course seeing so much food made us hungry so we found an indoor restaurant with seats and bathrooms and all the amenities that we needed. We started with a nice glass of wine and followed with traditional fish and chips. Luckily we had decided to split an order because the servings were quite generous, so much so that no one person would have been able to consume the portions in one sitting and we had no way to take a to go box back to the hotel. 

Feeling a bit adventurous we followed our main portion with bread pudding that was to die for. We also had a lovely chat with our waiter who was from Slovenia, not to be confused with Slovakia. He was a friendly soul who got excited when he learned we were from Texas. There is definitely a mystique about Texas that leads to an of imaginary western world that mostly does not exist. Nonetheless we tended to just roll along with the picture that the young man carried in his head. 

I wanted to have some kind of memento from the market because it had been so much fun. I found a cooking store that featured Borough Market tea towels and decided that there was nothing more useful and more appropriate to remind me of our wonderful day.

I found myself thinking about the artistry of human innovation that expresses itself in so many ways. We use words, colors, cloth, wood, plants, and even the food that we eat to demonstrate our creativity. I could not help but think about Shakespeare boasting, “What a piece of work is man,” as I reflected in all that I had seen in just a few hours of a day.

We had done a great deal of walking, closing the circles on our watches several times so we were ready to return to the comfort of our hotel. A quick trip around the corner led us to the Tube and a comfortable ride home, at least that is how we had already begun to refer to our hotel. London was not disappointing us in any way.

Travel is as much about meeting new people and hearing new points of view as seeing sights. It is about gaining a deeper understanding of the history of the world and learning how humans adjust and adapt to the challenges in their lives. We may speak many different languages and have many different beliefs about the best way to live but when all is said and done our hearts are much more alike than we often seem to notice. Visiting far away places provides a more generous outlook on life because it helps us to realize how wonderful all of us are as we strive to live in meaningful ways. 

I suppose that I have an affinity for Great Britain because so many of my ancestors came from there. Somehow I always feel comfortable among the citizens when I visit the locations where my people once lived. As I visit one place after another I get a better feel for the journey of individuals whose life choices led inexorably to my own. I feel a kinship with the people that I encounter because when I speak with them I realize that they are more like me than different from me in their hopes and dreams for themselves and their families. 

I think of a young barista and waitress who greeted me and my husband with a warm smile each morning when we enjoyed breakfast in the cafe where she worked. Her name is Maria and she brightened our mornings with her care and concern for our needs. At least for me her presence each day was more vital than the food and drink that she brought us, more wonderful than the castles that we visited.

I enjoyed the Uber drivers who chatted with us as they relieved my need for walking as much as I would have normally done given that my knees are more than ready for replacement. They were as delightful as the sites to which they delivered us. There was the young man from Ethiopia who was curious about the United States and its current situation. He knew more about the Constitution and our laws than many Americans. This humble driver was well schooled in history and political science, speaking with a command of English that was remarkable given that he has not been in London all that long. I was almost sad to leave the car upon reaching our destination because our discussion had been so interesting. 

There were the people on the streets, in the shops and on the tube who treated me like a queen. Even on the most crowded days they politely insisted that I take their seats. They called me “Mum” or “Madame” and smiled when I accepted their kindness. I did not ever feel alone or ignored the entire time that I was away from home. 

On a train to Edinburgh I sat across from a young man who was traveling to Glasgow to spend the weekend hiking with his girlfriend. He chatted all the way alerting us to the loveliest views from the train and telling us how best to enjoy our short trip to Scotland. He was a delightful tour guide and historian as he explained what we were seeing as the train barreled through the countryside. He was ever polite and enthusiastic about helping us, not disappointed that his seat was across from two old people.

On the same train we heard a young woman from mainland China speaking impeccable English and mentioning her love of learning many different languages. She patiently listened to a stranger who never stopped talking about the exploits of his life. The two of them could not have been more different and yet by the end of the trip the bond that they had created was ever so real. 

On our way to visit the Dickens Museum we enjoyed a driver who was from Nigeria. He broached the topic of world events of the moment and we happily took the bait. It felt as though we were in the presence of a brilliant professor. His knowledge was boundless and he had a knack for expressing his views and allowing us to differ from him that was glorious. That ride was as wonderful as the museum that we would later visit. 

There were two Palestinian protests in Trafalgar Square when we were in London. Since our hotel was only half a block away from the proceedings we saw the mothers and grandmothers and children who earnestly accompanied the men to the rally. There were ministers and people who have never themselves been to Palestine. All of them bore looks of worry and hardship. I could feel the pain that they were feeling even though none of them spoke to us. I felt humbled by them in an unexplainable way. 

We met a mother and son from New Zealand when we went to see The Phantom of the Opera. They invited us to visit their homeland, describing its beauty and its people with such pride and joy.

We saw the diversity of the world in the microcosm of London and it was glorious. We smiled when the people embraced us even as they seemed worried about all of us in America. They all expressed the hope that we will get over our divisions and become the exemplar of freedom that they so want us to be. It was remarkable to be able to discuss our views and who we are without the least bit of worry that we might somehow be misjudged or accused of being hateful. The people assumed that it was okay for each of us to be different in our languages, backgrounds and viewpoints. They told us that no nation or time has ever been perfect and no one way of doing things is a good fit for everyone. 

We too often create a mindset that puts us in competition with each other rather than acknowledging that people are people everywhere. They have goals and dreams. They live and love. Our trip reminded us that when all is said and done we humans are all in this together and always have been. When we celebrate our sameness we are much more likely to get along.