By Benjamin J. Butler
The plane glides over the green pastures below as we approach London Heathrow. The sky is still lit by the reddish hue of sunset. Although I have lived overseas for the most of two decades, this scene never bores me nor fails to light something within. I guess most people feel something when they return to the Motherland. For some reason one of the hymns we used to sing at boarding school echoes in my mind:
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On England's pleasant pastures seen!
I met an Australian woman at breakfast in Seoul today who was originally born in Latvia and looking forward to a rather sentimental summer back there. She was forced to leave many decades ago during war. It was only a generation or two ago that many experienced forced dislocations by wars. Of course ... Log in or subscribe to continue reading.