Winding
down this incredible summer in England…I’m eager to come home, but I’m well
aware it’s been a privilege to be here. There have been some lows, to be sure,
but far more highs. As always, I feel my horizons have expanded.
Anybody who persists in
believing that the USA is the center of the universe, and that Americans are
superior to every other creature on the planet, should try living abroad for a
while. Don’t get me wrong: Open one of my veins and I’ll bleed red, white and
blue. I’m damned proud to be an American and have no problem sharing my love of
country to anybody who wants to talk about, say, politics – which get asked a lot about these days.
But are we better than anybody else? Just because
we’re the world’s ATM and weapons arsenal, have we earned the right to assume
our way is the only way? On the other hand, we
are all interrelated. What we do in the U.S. has a domino effect all over
the world. Being out of the country this summer has put some things into
perspective, especially with regard to our current political landscape.
Virtually every Brit I’ve run
across is scared rigid of Donald Trump and the prospect of his being elected
President. Without exception: Every. Single. Person. Whether they voted to
leave the European Union (the “Brexit” voters), or whether they voted to
remain. Whether they’re members of the Conservative or Labor Party. The thought
of Trump having his thumb on “the button” with the potential to trigger World
War III is real over here, and to the Great British public that’s absolutely horrifying.
Forget the menace of Islamic terrorists; at the moment, Trump is universally perceived
as a much bigger threat. Parallels with Hitler and Stalin have been mentioned.
I’m not exaggerating.
I’ve realized anew that the American
electorate has an enormous responsibility not only to each other, but to the
entire world. What we voters do in November is going to be historic, regardless
of the outcome, and will have an epic global impact. The stakes have literally
never been higher.
The world will be watching
with baited breath on election day. If you know me at all, you know I believe
there’s only one choice, and a brilliant one at that. Which is why I’m enthusiastically
voting for Hillary. Every Brit to whom I’ve spoken – and there have been many –
is praying with me for her to win. The future of the civilized world depends on
it.
I dread the campaign between
now and Nov. 8, and I’m sure I’m not alone.
It’s going to get even more brutal, ugly and divisive. More than once I’ve
marveled at how restrained, efficient and enlightened the leadership election
process was over here in the U.K. back in June. No muss, no fuss. Took less
than a week, and Theresa May was the new Prime Minister!
Anyway, back to fun things I’ve
done since my last posting: First, the Shrewsbury Flower Show, which bills
itself as the oldest flower show in the world. Don’t know the veracity of that
boast, but it is evermore glorious! Spread over a 30-acre public park along the
banks of the River Severn in the oldest part of town, it is a combination of crafts
fair, music festival, horse show and flower exhibition. The highlight for me at
all of these typically British fetes is the competition among amateur floral
designers for the best arrangements. Themes are announced in advance, and entrants
then create these stunning displays to carry out the theme they’ve chosen, such
as “Heavy Metal” or “Dinner with…” or “Inspired by Monet” or “Charles Dickens’
Great Expectations.”
Even at massive undertakings like
the Southern Home & Garden Show have I ever seen anything quite like the
highly imaginative arrangements on display at British flower shows. They’re
extraordinary! The creativity and beauty are stunning, and this year at
Shrewsbury’s show (founded in 1884, I think) was no exception. I love, love,
love going to these things, and am never disappointed.
The 90-minuite concert by a military
band wasn’t too shabby, either. And the weather even cooperated. A splendid day
out.
The cherry on top of the
sundae here near the end of this trip was my visit with a chap whom I’ve known
since first grade at Cecil School in Lexington. Randy Perryman and his
wonderful wife, Lynn (whom I’d never met), live half the year outside
Winston-Salem and half the year at a house they’ve bought in Weardale in the
northeast of England. Their love of the U.K. rivals my own. We’ve made noises
about trying to get together over here in previous years, but it had just never
worked out.
This year all the stars
aligned and a plan came together. I had spent scant time in their part of the
country before taking the train up there on Sunday. WOW! The wild, unspoiled
dales have a magic all their own. I loved seeing and learning about this
extraordinary part of England from their eyes, having great conversations, and
getting to know Lynn, who (though she didn’t grow up in Lexington) is a ”keeper”!
I had been sliding into a bit of funk, and this side trip – underpinned with
exceptionally fine weather – was exactly what I needed. The Perrymans couldn’t
have me feel more welcome, bless them.
And now, get me on a big ol’
jet plane, because I’m ready to come HOME!
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