Michael Leppert
We had planned a trip to London and Paris in 2020, but it was canceled by the pandemic. Until last week, we hadn’t left the country since before that awful year. Ironically, the thought of visiting or even living someplace other than America has never taken up more space in my soul. Even my latest book is fundamentally about the mysterious “what ifs” that come from how life might be different if it were simply spent “someplace else.”
We finally got to go last week. As a much younger person, I used to wonder why people would even go on trips like this, when there really wasn’t some specific reason. Now, I feel true sympathy for those who never do.
First of all, the enormity of London alone is striking, but the best thing about its size is the variety of everything in it. For example, I never thought of London as a great food town. Wrong. There is no food on earth that can’t be found there. The restaurants seem smaller, but the pubs, cafes and ethnic offerings are literally everywhere. I wasn’t looking for Uzbek or Sri Lankan food, but now I know the most convenient place to find it.
In just six days though, the giant city had shrunk for us, primarily because of its phenomenal train system. No area or neighborhood was difficult to get to, including a little town called Paris. Navigating it also couldn’t have been easier.
As a world traveler, I’m a novice. I haven’t been many places. Not yet. But every new place I go these days is less of a vacation and more of an adventure. Seeing unfamiliar places, and spending time with unfamiliar people is the most provocative way for anyone to grow. Every adventure teaches me something unexpected. It is so predictable that I purposely make fewer and fewer plans on each new trip. Why bother? The best parts can’t be planned anyway.
Visiting the Churchill War Rooms Museum, however, was definitely planned. I’m in the words business, English is my language, and Winston Churchill is likely the greatest orator who has ever lived. Yea, yea, he led and won the big war, but his weapon of choice was language.
Our last exhibit there was a display of the anti-Churchill propaganda that was distributed in Nazi Germany and Japan during the war. None of it was all that surprising, particularly by today’s standards, but a museum staffer approached us and began explaining the depth of the exhibit’s importance.
This elderly man pointed out the racism built into the drawings and the impact of its lessons in faraway places, especially on young people growing up with the imagery. He asked us to imagine young people who only knew of the British through this messaging and how difficult it must have been to overcome for generations. He analogized the struggle then to the one today with Russia’s Vladimir Putin, the invasion of Ukraine, and the valuable mission of NATO. My wife and I enjoyed his lesson, but I was fascinated with how comfortably he went there with two people from America who could have just as easily been hostile to his suggestions.
This cultural comfort was reinforced the next day. I am a devoted member of the Indianapolis Downtown Y. Our London hotel just happened to be a few doors down from the world’s first YMCA, founded there by Sir George Williams in 1844. When I checked in there the first day, I told the manager how I thought the YMCA started in America. Then I followed up, asking him, “Have you ever heard anything more American than that?” He replied with a smile, saying, “Well, I already know you’re not a Trump fan, because you have … a passport.” Then he confidently burst into laughter.
On our last day, I begrudgingly toured Westminster Abbey. My son said it was must-see. While there, I was oddly drawn to the thousands of faces of the visitors there, wondering how the enormity of the place made them feel. The place was founded in 960, and it made me feel excruciatingly small.
Every tomb and chapel there was meticulously created with statues and carvings built to last forever in commemoration of the most important people of a particular moment. And then, a few steps away was another. And another and another.
Perspective. That’s what trips like this give me. This era in American history has embedded in many of us a feeling that the world revolves around each of us and every domestic division we face. To those who seemingly enjoy feeling that way, I encourage you to spend some time someplace, anyplace else.
London is an excellent place to start.
Michael Leppert is an author, educator and a communication consultant in Indianapolis. He writes about government, politics and culture at MichaelLeppert.com. This commentary was previously published at indianacapitalchronicle.com. Send comments to [email protected].
