Tag Archives: British Immigration

Feeling The Sun From Both Sides

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 To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides  – David Viscott

Young sunflowers follow the sun their heads turning as the day changes from morning to night powerless to resist the movement of the light, but mature sunflowers hold fast, firmly planted and permanently facing east. They stand like silent sentries content to feel the warmth as the sun passes over as if they know somehow the benefits that will come from feeling the sun from both sides.

Three Years

Today is our third wedding anniversary. John would say getting married was a piece of the puzzle necessary for immigration which sounds decidedly unromantic, which he is not.

He would say that the date we met online and the date we met in person are more significant for him and more noteworthy than our wedding day and I can see why he would feel this way.

Wedding Day - John Winchurch & Elizabeth Harper - 2/2/2009

Our wedding day was our most public declaration and more of a celebration than the deeply moving experience of some marriage ceremonies. It was a period at the end of the sentence that meant I could stay forever.

Snowy Wedding Day - John Winchurch & Elizabeth Harper

While all three dates have their place in our history there’s one we note more privately which is how it occurred. We both see it as the most significant of the three and the one that marked a defining moment in our relationship. I’ve written about it before, the look that passed between us while standing on bridge built in the 14th century only eight days after we met in person.

This photograph of me was taken almost immediately after that moment occurred. I’m standing on Helland Bridge with no doubt and no fear, loving the man and the moment, ready plant my feet and face permanently east. 

Taken only minutes later, this is one of my very favorite photographs of John. There are a million reasons why, but this act that came later is just one of many that confirmed what I already knew that day.

Much has changed since I wrote my first blog post, but as you can see from the title if you follow the link, some things are exactly same.

If you’d like to share a sweet story of your own either through a comment or link, I’d love to read it.

You Ain’t English! – The Ride Turns Ugly On A London Tram

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I’ve been writing fast and furious over the last few days trying to meet my goal for NaNoWriMo, but I had to stop for a minute to send out a thought on some nasty business that happened on a London tram the other day.

The language is really rough so be aware before you click on the highlighted link above.

I’m not sure how they found her, but Emma West was arrested for her racist rant yesterday and I’m sure many will be watching to see the outcome of her court appearance. At least 2 million people have seen the video, and I have to thank one of the bloggers I read for alerting me to the news story.

I just watched the video a few minutes ago and was shocked by the foul-mouthed rant of the woman who was holding her child in her lap. One woman spoke up to her and then another woman joined in, but only because the shouting had bothered her baby who can be heard crying in the background.

While working on my novel this month, I’ve been seeing the world and it’s events differently, more like scenes in a movie as the chapters in my book develop. After watching the video, I couldn’t help but visualize a different ending than the one the people on the tram had to tolerate many of whom are not British by birth and probably feel a bit displaced already without being confronted by such a venomous outburst.

In the movie scene in my head, I wonder …

What might have happened if when the woman began shouting, ‘ You ain’t English, and you ain’t English either ‘ as she was did to those around her … what if one person on the tram had launched into a loud song, one uniquely identified as a song all Brits and many expats would know, a song that’s sung at public events by the masses and is usually one found in the group below.

What if one voice became two, and then three, and then four, until one by one the voices of everyone on the tram were joined in song so that in the end both immigrant and British born citizens were singing so loudly that her voice could no longer be heard.

That might have shamed her into silence and made the people she was insulting feel better for a moment, but I’m not sure it would have had the impact needed to bring some greater sense of community in the mix of cultures that call Britain home.

Maybe this is a wake up call for a dialogue of some kind. I know there are strong feelings out there, I hear the rumblings too sometimes, but there has to be a better way than the one Emma West is teaching her child.

Isn’t it time we work on finding it and if not now, then when?

Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

 ~ William Congreve