Ticket To Ride

Caitlin and our very experienced tour guide. He showed us a picture on his phone of him and Paul McCartney and he was in a movie about the Beatles.

I have never been a Beatles fan. One Christmas when I was in high school my parents gave me a cassette recorder/player and a Beatles cassette tape to play in it. I couldn't understand why they chose to give me a recording of the Beatles. I loved the Osmonds. I didn't love the Beatles. I'm still not die-hard Beatles fan, but... after listening to my husband rehearse and perform in a Beatles tribute band for a dozen or so years, I have certainly come to appreciate and even love their music.

While still in the early planning stages of our trip Caitlin expressed the desire to visit Liverpool. That desire was made a reality on Monday April 15, which also happened to be my 36th wedding anniversary (if I couldn't be with my husband on our anniversary... at least I was visiting a place that made me think of him all day long). We arrived at the Liverpool docks where we did some souvenir shopping and ate lunch (my first official fish & chips on the trip). Uncle Derek knew where the Cavern Club was, so after eating our lunch we began a long walk from the docks into town. It wasn't very crowded at the docks but as we got into the town, or rather it was a city, the streets and sidewalks were much busier. At this point I was a little concerned. Liverpool was a big city. Although we were headed to the Cavern Club, I knew there were many more Beatles sites to see... but we didn't know where they all were. While these thoughts were running through my mind, suddenly I looked over and parked on the curb right in front of my eyes was a Magical Mystery Tour bus. After a quick consultation with Caitlin I headed over to the bus where I inquired as to how we could take the tour. The guide told us that the tour left twice daily (11:30 and 2:00) from the docks where we would need to return to purchase our tickets. We checked the time and it was almost 1:30. Derek and Dorothy had gone ahead of us so I quickly hurried to catch up and tell them that Caitlin and I were going to take the tour. They had no desire to go on the tour but were quite pleased for us to do so. We quickly made a plan to meet back at the car later, then Caitlin and I hurried back towards the docks we had started from. We hadn't gotten very far when I thought I heard our family whistle. When I turned I saw Uncle Derek rushing towards us through the crowds bringing a contribution of twenty pounds ($30-ish) towards our bus fares. We arrived back at the docks where we purchased our tickets in plenty of time.

For the next couple of hours we toured the beautiful city of Liverpool and heard stories about the Beatles from a very knowledgeable tour guide. We saw the birthplaces and childhood homes of the Fab Four. Many of the Beatles songs were written and rehearsed in Paul McCartney's childhood home. We stood on the sidewalk in front of that home, which was an ordinary house on an ordinary street. We saw Strawberry Field and Penny Lane as well as schools and churches and other places that are significant to the Beatles. The tour ended at the Cavern Club where Caitlin and I spent about a half-hour. It was amazing to be there (who would have thought I'd ever care). There was a performer on the stage and people were enjoying their drinks in the dimly lit room. It wasn't very big and it was definitely loud. It was awesome!! We looked around and then purchased some souvenirs. I had to buy Mike and Andy T-shirts from the Cavern Club as well as some guitar picks for Mike. When we felt satisfied we had "seen it all" we walked back to the docks where we found Uncle Derek and Auntie Dorothy waiting for us.

Since my return home people have asked me what were some of my trip highlights. I always include without hesitation Liverpool and the Magical Mystery Tour. I would go there again in a heartbeat but next time Michael will be going with me. And one more thing... I'm a bit closer to becoming a Beatles fan than I was before taking the Magical Mystery Tour. They were just four boys that wanted to make music. 

This is the childhood home of Paul McCartney where many Beatles songs were written and rehearsed.

This is the birthplace of George Harrison. This home doesn't have a plaque because he hasn't been dead for twenty years.

This is the childhood home of John Lennon (notice the blue plaque, he was famous and has been dead for more than twenty years). His mother was hit and killed by a bus in front of this house.

A Yorkshire Rose

The White Rose of York is an adopted symbol of all of Yorkshire which we refer to as the Yorkshire Rose. I'm a sentimental person. When Caitlin was born a year after Michael and I visited England in 1992 I felt that Rose was the perfect middle name for a part English/Irish little girl that was born on St. Patrick's Day. Caitlin Rose. See what I mean? After recently spending time in Yorkshire together I found out that the Yorkshire Rose is named after her.... at least, according to Caitlin it is.

We spent six days with my Uncle Derek and Auntie Dorothy traveling through Yorkshire and other places ("other places" will be on another post). Our first full day in England was a Sunday. Caitlin and I attended church with Derek while Dorothy prepared us a lovely Yorkshire dinner which partly consisted of... Yorkshire pudding of course. My dad was born and raised in Yorkshire so after dinner we took a drive to see important "dad/granpa" landmarks. This is where my dad went to school, played football (soccer), sang in the church choir, joined the LDS church, worked hard, and as a young boy he helped take care of  his two younger siblings while his widowed mother and older siblings went to work. It is an emotional experience to walk the streets that my dad walked, thousands of miles from where he lives now in what seems like a lifetime ago. If you are blessed to know my dad you know of his gift of a sense of humor. Before leaving on our trip he reminded us to be sure and take time to polish the plaque situated on the house where he was born. I learned something in England. You don't get a plaque on your house until you've been dead twenty years... and you're famous. John Lennon's house has a plaque. He's famous and has been dead for more than twenty years. Dad... you don't yet qualify for a plaque.

After our drive to visit our family landmarks we went for a walk. It was one of the most beautiful walks I've ever been on. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. We didn't see more than a couple of people as we walked along a sleepy street which included two homes that Dorothy had lived in as she grew up. Dorothy shared stories of her life growing up in this beautiful place. We walked downward on a dirt road to a park that had tall, bare trees, a statue, and two lakes. Top lake and bottom lake. I could only imagine the beauty when the trees would be in full bloom. There was also a very large, old brick building that had once housed a fine arts college (Caitlin wants to sign-up). I was amazed at how quiet and peaceful it was but Derek and Dorothy assured me that once the summer season arrived there would be plenty of people enjoying that beautiful park. They are very fortunate indeed. I love Yorkshire. It's in my blood. 

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Two weeks ago I arrived home after 15 days in Great Britain. I've finally loaded the pictures onto the computer and now it's time to blog. I'm doing this mostly for me as I consider my blog to be a journal of sorts, and although I kept a daily journal whilst on my trip, I would like to go into better detail here. You are invited to come along if you'd like, but these posts may be lengthy.  I know there are readers and scanners out there. For the readers you will undoubtedly enjoy the details, and for the scanners, I will type in bold the highlights so you can pick and choose what you want to read. I wasn't quite sure how to format my Britain posts, so... I'm just going to start at the very beginning, they say it's a very good place to start.

More than five years after the initial idea and one year after the "we'll go next year" commitment, and six months after the applications for passports which means we-are-going-to-go-because-I'm-not-paying-this-much-money-for-nothing commitment, and four months after the airline tickets were purchased which constitutes major financial commitment... Caitlin and I boarded a plane and headed to London, England at which point I turned to her and said with a twinkle in my eye, "now do you believe we are going to England?"

It was early in the morning on April 12 that I arose from my comfortable bed after a sleepless night. You know the kind of night I mean, when you set the alarm for an early hour but you're afraid to sleep just in case you don't hear it. The bags were all packed the night before so it didn't take long before we were ready to leave. After a prayer with our family of three Michael drove us to the SL International airport. It was shortly after 6:30 am when we said good-bye; we wouldn't see each other again for 15 days.

Caitlin and I navigated the airport like pros. Mike had printed our boarding passes for us the day before so all we had to do was check in our baggage. Our next stop was security where we removed shoes, belts and jackets before going through the screening. Once we made it through we could relax until our departure which was at 8:30. We found McDonald's where I enjoyed my favorite oatmeal for breakfast. For someone who is nervous about flying I was quite calm as I took in my surroundings. The airport was a place I had been many times in my life before the events of September 11, 2001 which resulted in an increase in security which makes it virtually impossible to go into the depths of the airport unless you are a passenger. I found that during the previous decade the airport had transformed into an updated version of a very recognizable place. We made our way to our departure gate where we waited to board. It was only then that I remembered David. David. My little brother. He works at the airport. I quickly sent off a text message to ask him if he was at work. Shortly after that we were called to board the plane. As I sat in my seat I received a message back from David wanting to know what gate we were departing from and where our seats were located. I quickly texted him back the information but all to soon we had to turn off our phones as the airplane was backing away from the gate. As the plane got into position I watched out of the window hoping to see my brother. The plane was moving now and picking up speed when suddenly I saw a truck on the runway right next to us. The driver was in full control of his vehicle as it kept up with the airplane and he glanced over every few seconds as if looking for someone. I said to Caitlin, "is that David!?" Yes! Yes it was! We began waving frantically from our window and David waved back just as enthusiastically. It appeared that he was trying to take our picture. He was successful at taking a video of our plane as it lifted off the ground and headed for New York (he sent us a video text which we watched when we arrived).

Our flight was as smooth as smooth. We were served peanuts, pretzels and sodas and watched the movie Parental Guidance. We had a 3 1/2 hour layover at JFK which when I booked the flight Caitlin initially had complained would be "too long" but after our flight Caitlin said, "good call Mom." We enjoyed the time we had to walk around, find the restroom, get something to eat, and spend time on our phones. Just before boarding our plane I spoke to Mike one last time before turning off my phone for 15 days. As the passengers gathered at our departure gate I could see that this overseas flight was going to be a lot bigger than our previous flight. I'm still not sure which makes me more anxious: a big plane, or... a bigger plane. I did realize something after being on six flights in two weeks. I'm more nervous waiting in the airport than I am on the plane. I remember on one particular flight entering the brightly lit cabin of the aircraft, cheerful music playing over the sound system, people talking and laughing together, and the friendly crew already busy doing their work. That environment helped me to relax and settle in for the duration.

Our flight from JFK to London, Heathrow was the one I dreaded the most. Flying into the night over the ocean is not what I call fun. Caitlin and I were quite happy with our seats on an aisle and a window. We each had our own screen on the backs of the seats in front of us. We could watch movies, TV shows, track our flight (I find it completely unnecessary for the pilot to announce that we are cruising at 36,000 feet, I mean... who really needs to know that?), we could play games or create a playlist and listen to music. All on that ipad-sized-screen. I watched some of Downton Abbey season 3 and I tried to sleep, but it's next to impossible for me to do so on an airplane.

At some point Friday turned into Saturday. It was light outside. I began to feel the excitement of our arrival in England. As the plane descended we looked out of our window at the earth below. It was England. We were here. We arrived at 7 o'clock am. At home it was just midnight.

I had planned very carefully all of the details of our journey. I chose Heathrow because we could catch the underground (subway) from the airport into the city which would be less expensive than the Heathrow or Gatwick express. I planned that we would travel to Kings Cross where we would catch a train to Wakefield. That is where my Uncle Derek and Auntie Dorothy would meet us. I had purchased my train tickets on-line in advance taking into consideration that we needed to get through customs, buy our oyster cards (passes for the underground), spend an hour on the underground train (tube), and then once we arrived at Kings Cross go to a self-service ticket machine to claim our tickets. I decided that three hours was plenty so I booked our train for 10 o'clock am. It worked out perfectly. Of course we also allowed ourselves a few moments at the airport to stop for the essentials. We do love our British sweets.

When we boarded our train at Kings Cross we were weary travelers. We had reserved seats with a table which Caitlin immediately laid her head on and fell asleep. I could not enjoy that luxury. I had to stay awake. I didn't want to sleep through our destination, besides, this was a part of our journey I had looked forward to... a train ride through the English countryside.

There was a group of a dozen or so young men whose train had been cancelled and so were now on our train. They were very loud and jovial. I couldn't help but smile at their eruptions of loud laughter. They were just happy chaps enjoying their day, but... their language was terrible. I remembered that my ipod was in my purse so I took it out and proceeded to listen to my favorite Tab Choir hymns. I was exhausted after the hours of travel, but felt such a relief that we were here. The familiar hymns that I love replaced the "noise of the world" and I felt peaceful and safe as I watched the English countryside roll by. Shortly after twelve noon we arrived in Wakefield. I could see Uncle Derek and Auntie Dorothy waiting on the platform for us. At home it was 5 o'clock am. I had been awake for more than 24 hours.

Cool Grandma

I found out yesterday that I am a cool Grandma. My eleven year old grandson came to work at the deli for a few hours and informed me that I am on YouTube. YouTube? Me? He told me that there is a Leger's Deli video on YouTube (June 11, 2011... he reminded me of the date) and guess who the star is! As he explained it to me it all started to come back. Deals that matter. Interview. Kitchen Sink. Goofy smile. That was me. Adam informed me that there were 37 views (3 of them were him). He seemed pretty proud and impressed. And if there was any question about grandchild pride, Zach came to work today and repeated the whole story. He pretty much admitted that I am cool, and if your grandchild will admit that... it must be true. Here's the video. Quite embarrassing. But cool to grandchildren. Oh, and btw... the deli deal on the video no longer applies. Just in case you were wondering :)

http://youtu.be/KB40oIqNSas

Ready

This is me in Ireland in 1975; re-creating a picture taken of my Mother at the same spot in 1956 while on her honeymoon. This is what we refer to as... a tender moment.

I'm ready to go on my trip. I still have a lot to do... but I'm ready. All the planes, trains, hotels and B&B's are booked and London theatre tickets await us at will call. This has been a monumental task, much different than planning a trip to the beach house. I have lists of things to be done at home and at work (which now includes hiring and training a new employee). I will bring my suitcase out this week and start my "collection" of things to be packed. I am writing notes to myself practically every day so as not to overlook any detail. I have preparation plans written on certain days in my planner; for example: on conference weekend I must review all of my airline instructions so that I know what I can and cannot take in my purse and carry on bag, and what time I should arrive at the airport. Another example written on another day: I must write checks for all of the bills so that Mike can mail them while I am gone. There are moments as I'm going through this process when my stomach starts to hurt. There are other times when I feel a glimmer of excitement. I'm hoping that the glimmers will soon overcome the aches. Don't misunderstand. I am excited. I'm also scared. I admit it. But I have had great helpers in my family who have been so excited for me to go, that they have gone to a lot of work to share any information they have from their recent trips to Britain. My brother Alan emailed me several pages months ago with advice based on his experiences as well as links to the places we will visit. He also supplied me with links to the West End Theatres, trains, airlines in Britain, Abbey Road crossing web cam... he sent me different scenarios of how to plan our trip, for example: London, Yorkshire, Belfast or Yorkshire, Belfast, London or Belfast, London, Yorkshire. You get the idea. In case you're wondering... we are going to Yorkshire, Belfast, London. I decided it would be best to do London last. My sister (in-law) Margie asked where we planned to visit in London. She surprised both Caitlin and I with pages she printed for us with links to the local sites which included hours and prices. She recommended the hotel in London where we are going to stay. Margie also emailed me her daily journal of her last trip which was a great help. It helped me to determine just how much we can see and do in a day. I read it through twice. My Mother printed off a colored map of the underground (tube) which I have been studying. I have texted Tim, Alan, and Margie (a lot) with multiple questions and they have all eagerly responded. Thanks you guys!! You can be sure there will be many more texts in the next couple of weeks. Reading this post you would think that I was going to a strange place where I'd never been before... this is my 4th visit to Britain since I left as a child. It is my first visit where I am completely in charge. I recognize that all of the planning and preparation has been a great learning experience for me, remember... I'm the one who said, "if I can build a float... I can do anything". Glimmers are starting to overcome aches. Yep, I'm ready. 

"If Your Irish..."

This is me in June 1975 in front of the home in Belfast where I lived as a child. I don't know that guy behind me... but I think he's enjoying being in my picture.

My parents emigrated to the United States in 1964 when I was just a four-year-old. I've written about that experience on my blog before so I won't review the details now, but I will say that coming to live in America has truly blessed my life.

I love the verses of scripture found in 2 Nephi 1:5-7. Part of it reads "... the Lord hath covenanted this land unto me, and to my children forever, and also all those who should be led out of other countries by the hand of the Lord."

I know that my family was led to this country by the hand of the Lord, I even inserted the words October 1962 next to this scripture so that I will always be reminded of that when I read those verses.

Next month I will have the opportunity to visit the land of my birth for the first time in nearly 38 years. My memories of my early childhood in Ireland are very dim; but I feel gratitude that I do actually have my own memories and not just the stories that my parents share with me.

I am so grateful that I live in this promised land. But I am also grateful that I was privileged to be born on a beautiful emerald isle across the sea, and I am very much looking forward to being there again.

When We Obey, We're Happy All Day

We have always been very fortunate to have faithful hometeachers visit our family. When our boys were little we had a particular companionship of hometeachers that the boys loved. They came diligently each month and were prepared with lessons that were specifically catered to our sons.

One month our hometeachers shared a lesson on obedience. They began the lesson with this little motto: "When we obey, we're happy all day". It left an impression on our family because not only did we add to it... "when we did not, we were sad we forgot"; but this motto has been repeated many times in our home through the years.

Whenever I hear a lesson or a talk on obedience, I can't help but remember a time that I wasn't obedient and was very sad that "I forgot".

As mentioned in a previous post, I had the opportunity to spend a great deal of my summer vacation between my junior and senior years in Great Britain. My trip was divided between my mother's sister in Northern Ireland, my dad's two brothers and my Grandma in England. My mother's uncle and aunt lived in London. Because I was flying in and out of London she arranged for me to stay with them for a few days upon my arrival and the last few days before I returned home.

Of course we didn't have "on-line" anything back then, so I had to make all of my travel arrangements from England to Ireland and then back to England, after I arrived in Britain. My mom took great care in "tutoring" me to ensure that I reached each destination safely and without incident. She provided me with a notebook where she had written all of my relatives names, addresses and phone numbers. I had been given instructions as to when I should arrive at each relatives house and how long I should stay there.

I was booked on a chartered flight which meant that all of the same people were on the flight to and from Britain. Consequently, I knew some of those people. My mom had arranged for me to sit with the George Allan family from Bountiful on the flight over. Upon our arrival in London, the Allan's would be traveling to Scotland, so my mom had asked Maureen Scott, an Irish friend, to accompany me from Gatwick Airport to Victoria Station in London where my mom's Uncle Harry would pick me up. Because I did not know Uncle Harry, nor he me, my mom had told him that I would be wearing a green ribbon pinned to my clothes so that he could identify who I was. With all of those plans and instructions given; off I went.

Now, my mom had given me a shiny piece of green ribbon attached to a safety pin and rehearsed to me that I must wear it. I nodded my head, signifying to my mom, that of course I would wear it... I had not the slightest intention of pinning that green ribbon to my shirt. What teenager would do anything so humiliating?  No, I had a better plan... I would wear a green shirt.

I traveled with the Allan's to England as planned, I then traveled to Victoria Station in London with Maureen Scott, we then parted and I stood against a wall and waited... and waited, for Uncle Harry. I was sixteen years old, and alone in LONDON!!!

I had departed from SLC at 10 pm the night before, and it was now quite late in London. I don't remember how long I waited, but I know it was a long time as I stood against the wall with a suitcase on either side of me. I was SCARED.TO.DEATH; so what do you think I did? I started to cry. I had never heard the term "the ugly cry" until recent years, but I am sure it originated from someone walking through Victoria Station on the night of June 4, 1975 who happened to see a young girl (in a lovely green shirt) sobbing uncontrollably.

Eventually, an older gentleman who appeared to be very concerned, approached me, and in a frustrated voice said, "Lesley????" I could only nod through my sobs. Although I heard several references to the green ribbon, it was happy ending, or... beginning to my trip.

I have never forgotten that experience. How much better things would have been for me had I just obeyed.

I have been to England twice since, and am now embarking on that journey again. For almost a year I have been planning and scheduling; and in recent months, arranging and reserving. A few days ago I was having some difficulty with making on-line reservations for my hotel in London and in purchasing some theatre tickets, so I went to my parents house to arrange for those details over the phone (they have a good phone plan for Britain calls).

I know that this is a wonderful opportunity for me and my daughter to go on this trip; but for me it hasn't been without some stress, anxiety, and yes I will admit... some fear. As I sat at my parents kitchen table and finished these final details over the phone (and I was writing down every detail), I felt such a relief that it was all taken care of, but then the anxieties overcame me and I got emotional. As my tears flowed my parents both assured me that everything would be fine. As I looked at all of the details that I had just written, I couldn't help but laugh through my tears as I said pointing to my notes, "I'm wearing my 'green ribbon' this time." And I am.