Lesson Seven: Freedom from the Threat of Violence

London was the last stop on our European trip. We traveled around the city using the London Underground, nicknamed the Tube, and the adorable red double-decker buses, so quintessentially British. Inside the Tube and on the buses, signs were posted warning riders not to touch unattended packages, but to report them to a conductor or bus driver immediately. The conflict between the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and the British Army had spilled over into England in 1973, and from January through March 1976, six bombs exploded in London. The IRA warned authorities before a bomb went off, so injuries were few and fatalities fewer. Because the IRA and British were negotiating, there were no bombings for the rest of 1976, and our stay in London was free from explosions. However, I didn’t know that when we toured London. Even if I had known, it might not have been much comfort because throughout history truces have been broken.

The warnings didn’t stop people from riding the Tubes or the buses. But it was strange to think I could board a bus, perhaps off to Hyde Park, Harrods, or Trafalgar Square, and be blown up by someone who wanted to make a point, someone who thought of me only as collateral damage. And yet somehow, I felt I would be safe because I was a visitor from a different country who had nothing to do with the conflict between the IRA and the British. At the time, I wondered what it must be like for people to live under the threat of terrorism.

Now, I think about random gun violence in the United States, which has taken many lives. Schools, places of worship, stores, malls, businesses, theaters, nightclubs, restaurants, concerts, parades, neighborhoods, homes, places people expect to be safe have been scenes of bloodshed. When I see a sign that says, “Guns Banned on These Premises,” I think about the don’t-touch-the-unattended-package signs in London. Signs won’t keep us safe from violence or terrorism or war. We need to see each other as fellow travelers in our neighborhoods, our country, and the world.

Learn about people from down the block and from other cultures.

Going Home

After a month in Europe, we landed at Billy Mitchell Field in Milwaukee. I had a couple of dollars in foreign coins and one U.S. dime in my purse. I had spent the rest of my money and might have spent the dime too, but I needed it to call my parents for a ride home from the airport. After I deposited the dime in the payphone, I was broke, but I was rich with wonderful memories and great experiences.

My love of language and interest in meeting people from other countries continued. When I went to college, I kept studying Spanish, and I made friends with people from Europe, South America, and Asia. We cooked for each other and helped each other with our studies. We went dancing and roller skating. We talked for hours about our lives and dreams. We taught each other swear words and laughed as we cursed in each other’s languages.

The European trip my parents gave me was the best gift: an opportunity for me to grow as a person. I have a scrapbook of mementos and photographs, and occasionally I look at them. I have a Spanish Damascene dinner bell I bought in Madrid and a soft plaid cashmere scarf I bought in London. Occasionally, I ring the dinner bell or wear the scarf. But the best keepsakes are the lessons of kindness, acceptance, and adventure that I have carried with me all these years.