I’m not a morning person. The remaining jet lag, however, and the need to cook for 150 people today, had me up before the sun this cool February morning in London. (There was also that well placed call I asked my lovely wife to make before she ended her evening back home. It’s great to have a number that works here and is local to her!) I’m staying in a part of London called Chiswick (pronounced Chis-ick). It’s a neat little area on the West side of the city. Less than a block away from my flat, is a historic pack called Turnham Green. It’s all very nice, and hopefully, will help make things a little more comfortable while I’m here.
Thanks to, what I’ve now determined to be less than perfect, advice on which tube station to use, I had about a half-mile walk to get my day going. In retrospect, I’m grateful for it. By the time I was already passing Christ Church (in the middle of the Green), my mind was wandering. The area of London I was walking through has history going back to the year 1000. While it hasn’t always been urban, the reality is that people have walked that very street for a long long time.
We have such a limited view as Americans. Our country is young – very young. In the grand scheme of the world, we’ve done a lot, but we haven’t seen much history. I’m thankful for the times I’ve been over to Europe. It helps put a lot of things in perspective. I love home, but seeing more of the world gives me such a better understanding.
So, I walked this morning with the Ghosts of Turnham Green. While the music from my mp3 player helped me greet the morning, the spirits of 1000 years of history matched me step for step. 5000 miles from home, I walked with them down a street towards a subway station I wasn’t quite sure the location of. I thought about life. I thought about history. I thought about home. And, most importantly, I thought about my family. Perspective on life these apparitions may have brought, but with clarity, you miss the important things all that much more.
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