When I was in the second grade, my father took my sister, mother and me to live in England for his six- month sabbatical. We lived in the Oxfordshire in a small town called Church Hanborough. I feel very blessed to have had that adventure and all the wonderful experiences. Our journey to Stonehenge was “not” one of those experiences.
The drive was boring for a hungry eight year old. In fact we were all hungry and not a restaurant in sight. Finally after what felt like forever, we spotted a hotel with a restaurant. We walked into the place in jeans. The patrons dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos stared rudely at us sloppy Americans. But hunger out ruled embarrassment. The meal was very rich and delicious.
After travelling for about a half hour, we pulled over so I could release the expensive, delicious meal all over the side of the road. The ride was still boring, so I asked my father a question. He starts yelling at me. I was very hurt and confused, what did I do wrong? Then he starts cussing like crazy. It turns out the Hillman Minx car (from the late 50’s) fan belt had snapped right by Stonehenge. My father only uses swear words when something breaks down, a habit I picked up, although I swear at other times.
My father leaves us to walk back to a garage he saw down the road. We go over to this famous Stonehenge. I looked around and became outraged. “Rocks! We went through all that for a bunch of rocks!”
Flash forward to today, what I would give to go back to that time. Back then I would have been able to touch the stones and felt the incredible energy. Today the stones are fenced in because of the damage the tourist have done to them. Maybe someday I will return and see it through the eyes of an adult. I now know that this is a typical reaction of a child. A friend of mine took his family to see the Grand Canyon. When his son looked at it, he angrily said, “We came all this way to look at a hole in the ground!”