It's Monday, but I'm thinking about The Sundays and Being 19

I met with a student on campus yesterday about his final paper and we began talking about travel. He's been to Italy a few times to meet relatives, but was kicking around the idea of traveling to London. I started thinking about my sophomore year in college and how, so young, I packed my belongings and moved to Wigmore Place a few blocks north of Picadilly Circus and south of Regents Park. I remember reading postcolonial literature while there (Literature of Exile and The Black British Experience) and, of course, a lot of Shakespeare. I believe we were all enrolled in a course on theater, too, and we went to a new play every week (sometimes twice). We raved at times, frequented pubs and through our own parties. In fact, my first and only surprise party was thrown for my 19th birthday by my flatmates. We were an odd crew of young people finding their way in the world.

What I loved about that time was the thrill of being alive and seeing new things. It sucked not to have money, but I was in England and we had music, cheap pasta to boil, and lots of other people are age to talk with. There's a zillion other stories that go with this (a fire, housing a homeless man, a bipolar breakdown, coupling, re-coupling, re-re-coupling, and travel).

When I first got there, I didn't want to stay. I hated it. My letters to my friends and family described how awful I found it to be. This misery, however, lasted a couple of weeks. I poured loneliness into old fashion snail-mail because I didn't know anyone. Soon, this changed, but still that semester and that semester alone brought me independence. I ventured to German on my own, to Ireland with Judy, and then to Belgium to meet a girl named Lena. I walked to clubs and found libraries, traveled the Tube like it was natural, and new where to get groceries, cheap bread, and the best pints.

Shaw wrote that youth is wasted on the young and I'm sure I wasted much of my time while there, but still I reflect on traveling to London fondly. I remember, too, that friends from my old neighborhood in Clay, Lori and Chris, came to the city for a weekend on a business trip. They wanted to hear how everything was going and I told them everything. I fell in love with life and had all these ideas for the world. Chris laughed and said, "Ah, this is where you're supposed to be. You'll age and be less naive about the world."

It's funny, because when we flew into London, we were delayed for five hours because the IRA bombed the city (similar to the bombing in Boston). I had to ask, "Who is the IRA? Why would anyone bomb London?" Fast forward many years and I understand Chris's comment. I was naive, very naive, and I suppose I still am but have spent my adult life trying to counter this. My perspectives have remained global and it's easier for me now to put global incidences into perspective with history, economics, traditions, and conflicts.

Because I wrote this on Sunday night for a Monday post, I began to think about music I listened to while I was there. Someday, soon, I hope I can return. I hope I can bring students overseas again like I did while teaching in Kentucky. To know the U.S. it is always important to know somewhere else.