Ch-Cha-Changing (Of the Guard)

Because I hadn't seen enough of the U.K. in the past couple of weeks, I opted to do a day-tour to various areas around London via tour bus. I found out about it through some Bowling Green people, so Becky and I signed up when we found out we'd get to see Windsor, Stonehenge and Oxford.

Our first stop on the day tour was at Windsor. I thought this royal city was a good distance from London, so I was surprised when maybe fifteen minutes out of London our bus rumbled to a stop and we were receiving instructions from our tour guide to be back on the bus by noon.

We arrived around 10 a.m. to the small city and quickly learned that the changing of the guard ceremony would proceed at promptly 11 a.m. Perfect! I'd always missed the guard changing at Buckingham Palace, so this would at least make up for it a little bit.

To kill time Becky and I wandered around some gift shoppes. In one, an elderly man questioned my views on American politics.

Cranky old man: So! Who's going to be your next president?
Me: Haha! That's yet to be seen! At least it won't be Bush! Yay!
Cranky: Well, no kidding. (He got crankier with that.) He's out of office. What I'm ASKING is WHO will be elected next.
Me: Well. I. Don't. Know. Elections aren't for another half year. Anyone will be better than Bush, so I don't really care.
Cranky: You Americans are all the same. You clearly know nothing.
Me: No, I don't and I'm ok with that. But I do know that I don't have to spend money in your store.

To note, he was the first cranky person I'd met the entire time I was in England. But really--who insults people who could be giving him money? That's just bad business.

As Becky pulled me out of Cranky's shoppe, we saw that people were already lining up to watch the changing of the guard. We found a great sidewalk spot near the entrance of Windsor Castle, where we were told the guard would be entering through. As we stood there waiting patiently, a police officer approached us. I immediately became nervous. Oh my god! I'm going to get in trouble for insulting Cranky Shoppe Owner! I don't want to cause an international scandal! Gaah!

I put on my best, most charming smile as he approached while silently praying that I wouldn't be escorted away in handcuffs in mere minutes. The sun glinted off his police helmet as he opened his mouth to talk to us. "The Guard will be coming soon and you're very close to their entrance. Do not go past the sidewalk or the bobbies. Do not try to follow them into the castle and do not try to get close to them." I began giggling, relieved that I wasn't about to be arrested. The officer glared at me. "This is no laughing matter. We are quite serious about the Queen's security." I shut up immediately and promised him we'd be on our best behavior--for the Queen's sake.

He walked away, but I noticed that his post somehow magically was closer to where we were standing than it was before he approached us. It was no matter, though, because soon I heard staccato drum beats and horns blaring a march. Eee! A parade!

It was no parade, though. It was the Royal Band, the prelude to the Guards, marching up to the Castle entrance, high stepping while playing an ornate, fast-tempod march. They were led by a man who twirled a glinting, large baton in a regal manner while high-stepping. I was entranced by his skill and ability to lead the band while twirling such a large object.

Following the Band was the Royal Guard. Rows upon rows of guardsmen and women marched in perfect step with their weapons. Eyes were cast forward and each of them wore a look of serious pride. The uniforms were immaculately pressed and their boots shined in the late morning sun as they marched through the Castle gates. Just as quickly as the Band had appeared, the changing of the guard was over. I was a little sad. I wanted to see the band again! Or have some sort of flamboyant ending!

I shouldn't have been disappointed, though. I hadn't even expected a band. Hell, all I thought would occur was a few men marching with guns. Compared to my original expectations, this was like getting a banana split when all I thought I'd get was an Icee.

I was honored that I got to experience the Changing of the Guard. This was a tradition that had been ongoing since...God knows when. Many generations, I'm sure. This was something that was ingrained into the country's history; it was a part of who the British are and were. It signifies how far they've come and where they've come from and where they're going. It's their past, present and future. It made me think about traditions at home, both in my personal and professional life. There are some things that I do that are ingrained into me and are a part of my identity: Christmas traditions with my family, reunions with college friends, even the prepping I do for papers and projects. These are all small, but important parts of my identity. These are things that are important to me. Each person has things that are a part of who they are, traditions and routines that define parts of them and help them equal a whole person. Perhaps these are the things we should learn about each other and those we strive to help in order to make deeper connections and become better student affairs professionals. And perhaps we should focus on traditions within our institutions and field in order to bring people together and form stronger bonds. Imagine what we could do if we took those extra steps and not only learned these tiny but important details about each other, but helped to define those parts of people as well. And why can't we? What's stopping us? I believe that by witnessing the simple, yet grand tradition in Windsor, my outlook on Student Affairs and what I can do has been altered.

Thank you, British tradition, for helping me to look at things a little differently. Thank you for the inspiration.