England: A Reflection (2)

Souter Lighthouse with Paul in the middle

Although the pictures have nothing to do with the text, I did want to show you some of the views we had this past Saturday as we walked through the blowing wind along the cliffs above Sunderland.  This is along the North Sea, about a half hour’s drive from our house.

I mentioned at the end of my last reflections that I would balance my effusions by posting about what in England I don’t like.  I’ve decided, though, to dwell more on what I miss about America than on what I actively dislike about England.  The reason for this is that there really isn’t much I dislike about life here.  I could mention the weather, but like most Brits deep down I appreciate it for providing us all with something to talk about to strangers.  If England were to develop a pleasant climate, conversation would all but cease here.  What’s a Brit to discuss if he or she can’t whinge about the weather!?  Having said that, I do miss marginally accurate weather forecasts!  I’m convinced the BBC does it’s forecast by throwing darts at a dartboard marked with different weather patterns.  If this is not, in fact, what they do, then they should start as I think it would actually improve their accuracy!

The champ!

There is at least one thing I detest about Britain: the rubbish.  I’ve never been anywhere outside of, say, New York where rubbish is strewn just anywhere.  So often an otherwise lovely bank along a river, or track through the hills, or a historic site is marred by plastic containers or bags, beer cans, Styrofoam, and similar trash.  In some places, the amounts are unbelievable.  In typical British fashion, some group wants to go after the companies that produce the packaging material (Burger King, McDonald’s, and Subway are among the worst culprits) instead of the people actually littering.  I say take a page from America: put up signs that inform people that they’ll be fined heavily for dropping trash and then enforce it.  Oh, and a rubbish bin every now and again would help, too!

So what do I miss?  Of things generically American, not much.  Yeah, part of me misses the convenience of American life.  On rainy or blustery cold days, I’ll often think how nice it would be to be able to hop in a car and drive almost to the doorstep of wherever I need to go.  The again, I’m enough of a tree-hugger to believe that really such isn’t the best way for people to live.  I’ve also come to realize that I really don’t need to have a choice between twenty brands of peanut butter to live a full life!  On the other hand, I do miss groceries stores that don’t have narrow aisle and veritable traffic jams of carts.

The North Sea

There is a great deal that I miss about my old life.  Hardly a night has gone by in the past five months in which I haven’t appeared in my dreams as a parish priest.  I suppose that I ought to tell me something.  Part of me just misses the priestly identity–though I’m slowly beginning to enjoy that again in my new context–but more of me misses ministering to my people in preaching, celebrating, and caring.  I also, of course, miss all the good folk at my former parish, All Saints, and think of them often.

There are also days when I almost ache for a long walk in Pisgah Forest and to breath in the damp, evocative smells of those forests.  There are times too when I miss the routine Paul and I enjoyed there: popping over to the YMCA twice a week and each Friday sharing a cappuccino smoothy at Perks, camping out by ourselves up in the mountains, or watching him play a recreational sport.  We haven’t come up with an equivalent here yet…though I do intend this week finally to get a snap of him in his fencing outfit!

Shot of the cliffs

There are also household features I miss (Diane wanted to make sure I mention these).  Closets are lovely American inventions.  Here, wardrobes remain all the rage.  We couldn’t afford anything but a press board wardrobe–and I refuse to buy press board ever again–so I just screwed hanging racks to the wall.  Our clothes all just hang there in the open.  Americans also do appliances well.  The worst feature about our home here is that we only have what is supposed to be a combined washer/dryer.  It washes well.  If you want it actually to dry your clothes, then you have to run it for about two hours and then you end up with a large wad of dry clothes that reminds me of the inside of a golf ball.  Needless to say, Diane and I have improved our ironing skills.  Actually, most of our clothes dry, as in most English households, in front of the radiators.

There are also American culinary delights I miss.  Top of the list here for me are barbeque potato chips!  I can get some here that aren’t bad, but there not the real thing.  The selection of steaks here is also not up to American standards, which doesn’t matter as I don’t have (and really miss) an outdoor grill.  Paul was disappointed not to find, in his view, any tasty macaroni and cheese.  Fortunately, Diane’s folks have kindly sent over boxes of Kraft mac & cheese from time to time, which has pleased him immensely.

Down by the beach

At a deeper level, I’ve come to appreciate more America’s free society.  I don’t mean so much individual freedoms–as I’ve got all those here–as I do the freedom from bureaucracy one enjoys in America.  I think England suffers from a prolonged and unsuccessful flirtation with socialism.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m far from being an American Republican on this issue.  If it were left up to me, all sorts of industries would be heavily regulated, starting with marketing and advertising.  But it never ceases to amaze me how many layers of bureaucracy one has to deal with here and how inefficient this makes much of British life, not least the Church of England.  Jobs that would take all of fifteen minutes in America take about four months here!  And because there are so many bureaucrats in so many offices involved in so many divisions of so many ministries, corporations, industries, and the like, no one actually knows what’s going on.  It amazes me how often I’ve encountered a fairly mundane task treated like it has never been done before.  Thus, the Church, the government, and businesses all feel much more cumbersome than they do in America.  I’ve come to the conclusion that the British reputation for moderation has nothing to do with their temperament (witness football fans here!); it’s that the suffocating bureaucracy doesn’t permit crises ever to happen.

That about sums it up.  Read this with my first reflections and you’ll have a pretty good feel for how I’ve responded to our life here.  The benefits far outway the drawbacks and I think and hope that when my status with the Church of England is finally resolved life will become even better.  I should add that one fairly constant reminder of what I miss about America ended for a season last night: the NFL.  So, my American friends, enjoy your barbecue potato chips, your large dryers, and remind your closets how much you appreciate them.  Oh, and do give my greetings to the sun.  He doesn’t make it over here very often…