As a society we're fascinated by where things come from. Seriously. Think about it.
Children want to know where babies come from. Scientists obsess over where diseases come from. Archaeologists dig to find where civilizations come from. Catholics wonder where guilt comes from and personally I wonder where Louis Walsh came from, and where he should go to. But that's a different story.
So then, where did the original founding Americans come from when they arrived on the Mayflower? Simple: they sailed from Plymouth which, as it turns out, is this inspiring and familiar city in England.
In 2009 my partner and I decided to visit England, the "Motherland." It is called that because England looks, smells and acts like your mother. Your grandmother to be exact. You remember going to your grandmother's house and inhaling that distinct smell? Remember how everything seemed all so familiar, slightly worn yet oh so comforting and, well, old? That's England. England is old, not California "built before 1972" old but old as in "the Romans lived here." That's old!
And with that age comes a confidence, a certain wisdom that we as a nation have not yet figured out. Comparatively speaking: if England is our grandmother, we are the teenage grandson who just hit puberty. We are all over the map whereas England is calm and collected. Their language is mature; their customs and manners established; their politeness perfected and their resilience legendary. You feel as if they are looking at us like a learned parent staring at their tempestuous child. Learned with a wisdom that will take centuries for us to gather, process and practice. England is a country of age-old grace and perseverance.
Take Plymouth, starting point of the Mayflower and heavily bombed during WWII because of its strategic location and Royal Naval yards, only a small section of the original cobble stoned town still exists. Determined to rise from destruction and refusing to surrender to enemy attempts to crush their spirit, after each bombing the entire town would dig itself out from the dust and rubble to gather in the splendid art deco Tinside Lido sea pool and wash themselves off. All the while singing battle hymns, inspiring each other, and a country amongst them.
Take a tour and see the ruins of the war bunkers, their air defense system and learn the stories behind those crumbling concrete walls and you slowly start to develop an understanding of what true perseverance and defiance means. Look upon the endless rolling hills of green surrounding the city and you begin to realize the infancy of true perseverance for us as a nation, as a society. And rather than to think we know it all and know it better, maybe we should stop and listen to our age old grandmother...maybe she has a lesson or two to teach us yet. She has been doing this a lot longer than we have.
On one of our nights in Plymouth we went to dinner at Tanners Restaurant in the medieval Prysten House. It's a beautiful house with granite doors and window frames built in 1498, seven years after Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue and discovered America! (I am convinced that somewhere in England there is toilet paper older than our constitution.) Sitting down for dinner, eating food that has been locally raised and harvested for centuries, you feel small and insignificant, being surrounded by buildings and history like this.
Yet at the same time there is a comfort in walking around in a city that is old enough to be your...you get the point. A city that was built many lifetimes before we came and that will still be here many lifetimes after us. There is an energy in that. You can feel the essence of life as you walk the cobble stoned streets and you feel secure knowing that somebody, something bigger than us knows the things we will learn in time.
That is what Plymouth did for us. It was like visiting grandmother's house all over again. Old, slightly worn but so familiar and with a distinct smell that invokes memories of childhood, infused and surrounded by the energy that can expand a generation. You leave thinking that, in time, things all turn out for the best. You leave knowing that life is infinite, enduring, energizing and full of spirit.
Children want to know where babies come from. Scientists obsess over where diseases come from. Archaeologists dig to find where civilizations come from. Catholics wonder where guilt comes from and personally I wonder where Louis Walsh came from, and where he should go to. But that's a different story.
So then, where did the original founding Americans come from when they arrived on the Mayflower? Simple: they sailed from Plymouth which, as it turns out, is this inspiring and familiar city in England.
In 2009 my partner and I decided to visit England, the "Motherland." It is called that because England looks, smells and acts like your mother. Your grandmother to be exact. You remember going to your grandmother's house and inhaling that distinct smell? Remember how everything seemed all so familiar, slightly worn yet oh so comforting and, well, old? That's England. England is old, not California "built before 1972" old but old as in "the Romans lived here." That's old!
And with that age comes a confidence, a certain wisdom that we as a nation have not yet figured out. Comparatively speaking: if England is our grandmother, we are the teenage grandson who just hit puberty. We are all over the map whereas England is calm and collected. Their language is mature; their customs and manners established; their politeness perfected and their resilience legendary. You feel as if they are looking at us like a learned parent staring at their tempestuous child. Learned with a wisdom that will take centuries for us to gather, process and practice. England is a country of age-old grace and perseverance.
Take Plymouth, starting point of the Mayflower and heavily bombed during WWII because of its strategic location and Royal Naval yards, only a small section of the original cobble stoned town still exists. Determined to rise from destruction and refusing to surrender to enemy attempts to crush their spirit, after each bombing the entire town would dig itself out from the dust and rubble to gather in the splendid art deco Tinside Lido sea pool and wash themselves off. All the while singing battle hymns, inspiring each other, and a country amongst them.
Take a tour and see the ruins of the war bunkers, their air defense system and learn the stories behind those crumbling concrete walls and you slowly start to develop an understanding of what true perseverance and defiance means. Look upon the endless rolling hills of green surrounding the city and you begin to realize the infancy of true perseverance for us as a nation, as a society. And rather than to think we know it all and know it better, maybe we should stop and listen to our age old grandmother...maybe she has a lesson or two to teach us yet. She has been doing this a lot longer than we have.
On one of our nights in Plymouth we went to dinner at Tanners Restaurant in the medieval Prysten House. It's a beautiful house with granite doors and window frames built in 1498, seven years after Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue and discovered America! (I am convinced that somewhere in England there is toilet paper older than our constitution.) Sitting down for dinner, eating food that has been locally raised and harvested for centuries, you feel small and insignificant, being surrounded by buildings and history like this.
Yet at the same time there is a comfort in walking around in a city that is old enough to be your...you get the point. A city that was built many lifetimes before we came and that will still be here many lifetimes after us. There is an energy in that. You can feel the essence of life as you walk the cobble stoned streets and you feel secure knowing that somebody, something bigger than us knows the things we will learn in time.
That is what Plymouth did for us. It was like visiting grandmother's house all over again. Old, slightly worn but so familiar and with a distinct smell that invokes memories of childhood, infused and surrounded by the energy that can expand a generation. You leave thinking that, in time, things all turn out for the best. You leave knowing that life is infinite, enduring, energizing and full of spirit.
