Got the Time? 2-28-2011

Got the Time? 2-28-2011
My wife asked me what time it was and when I screwed my face up in confusion, she got annoyed, rumaged through her purse to find her i-pod, turned it on, checked the clock and made the hour-conversion. I wasn't confused at what time it was. I was confused as to why she asked me.

"Wouldn't it be nice," I said, nothing but sweetness dripping from every word,"if they had a giant clock around here that we could check?"

She looked up. We were standing at the corner of Parliament, across from Westminster Abbey, in direct, unmistakable and clear as crystal view of Big Ben. It actually chimed on the half hour as Danielle brought her dumbfounded eyes back down to my level.

I know I shouldn't have laughed but I couldn't help myself. If my wife ever wanted to slap me - and I'm sure there's a quantity there I don't want to know about - now would be the most obvious time (pun intended).

"I think I have my first 'Stupid American' post of the trip!"

God save the Queen and my wife, because Danielle laughed. She looked up at Big Ben, then over at Westminster Abbey and in between cackles she sighed, "and there's a huge clock face on the Abbey front too."

Yup, I had seen that as well but thought it overkill to point out that timepiece in addition to the ominous, looming, gargantuan ticker being gawked at by us, every tourist, pedestrian and the hasty Londoners rushing to catch the Tube.

We laughed as we made our way to the Abbey, then inside and throughout its soaring interior. The ornate but sober building seemed endless, the vaulted ceiling criss-crossing over the ever-lit British Empire. Around every corner the casket of a king, a relic of history. The air, like the faith, tradition and history, was heavy.

Later that day we would go to the National Portrait Gallery and see the ageless incarnations of many of those same people whose tombs we had tread upon or decorated coffins we saw. The interconnectedness of London was not lost on me. History here is a lifeblood for a city with so many moving parts.

Back in the Abbey we happened upon Poets' Corner. In the moment I stood above Dickens, Chaucer, Kipling. As a man who has spent waking hours attempting to emulate these men, my throat clenched, my mind fogged. So much greatness cornered, interred and remembered. I said two prayers in Westminster Abbey that day: one when I lit a candle for my grandfather, the other while standing in Poets' Corner, alone with my thoughts, save the dozens of literary souls scribbling away for eternity.

"William and Kate will walk down over there," Danielle said. My moment evaporated; I was alright with that, I was sure I'd have another at Shakespeare's Globe. She guided me around the choir seats, into the vestibules and finally to the front door, the entrance to the immense hall where history rested and history would be made.

Prince William and his bride-to-be are getting married in April in Westminster Abbey. Their place in history - be it pop-culture or not - begins in earnest that day. My bride gawked up at the Abbey's grand entrance, envisioning the horse-drawn carriage, the guards, the white dress, the ceremony. I broke out of the haze Westminster put me in, the hold its contents had on me broken.

Danielle smiled, held my hand and snapped a few more photos of Kate & Will's wedding venue. The Abbey was full of emotion, grief, genius, courage, struggle, sacrifice. But outside here, in a moment in time, my wife and I were just happy. I hoped the Prince and his Princess-to-be would have that, for just a moment, in a couple months - that they accepted and interpreted the significance of their duty, their venue, their city, their family, their country. But for just a moment in time, under a few giant clocks, they were happy.

And right on time, Danielle squeezed my hand and said bluntly, "Hey, you know what time it is?"