As the Horse Guard passed me by, I wondered why I was photographing it. As I took a video, I wondered why I was recording the scene. As I followed the horses, the impacts of their hooves rising above the revving of the motorcycle and automobile engines, I wondered why I was hurrying along the outskirts of St. James Park, instead of relishing its scenic beauty. Finally, when I reached the parade grounds, I wondered why I was bothering to raise my camera above my fellow tourists to record what was occurring. As at Buckingham Palace, why did so many, from all around our little (or big) world, feel this was an important event to witness?
On the face of it, the entire ceremony seems absurd, unnecessary, a relic of the past that serves no useful purpose. For crowd control, and to satisfy modern security concerns, police (on foot and on motorcycle) are mobilized to protect the Horse Guard from harm. Isn’t it time to abandon this old tradition in order to make way for an activity or event more relevant to our lives today?
Ultimately, the only way I can understand the Horse Guard is through “Are You Being Served?” In this British sitcom, poor sales on their separate floors lead to the Women’s clothing department being moved in with the Men’s. Mr. Granger, the crotchety, old head of the Men’s department, views this as an invasion. While he may resign himself to sharing the floor, he never comes to value the ladies’ presence. Worse, as Mr. Lucas, the Men’s Junior frequently points out, he is “past it.” He falls asleep in meetings (or during working hours), he grumps and complains, and he never willingly accepts a new idea.
While the death of the actor who played Mr. Granger (Arthur Brough) did not mean the end of the series, it did leave an absence that was never filled. In succeeding seasons, others would arrive to take over as head of Men’s Apparel. Yet none embodied the danger that Mr. Granger posed. The Junior Salesman, Mr. Lucas, never feared Mr. Tebbs or Mr. Goldberg. When the new head salesman used an unwanted complication to justify expelling the Women’s department from their floor, his argument never carried the same weight. Nor did his replacements charm the viewer like Mr. Granger. Charm? Yes! For while Mr. Granger frequently served as an obstacle to other characters’ plans, he also had a way of endearing himself with the viewer. The BBC produced another five series of the show after Mr. Granger departed Grace Brothers, but eventually those in charge stopped trying to replace him. The show remained funny, but was, nonetheless, diminished by his absence.
Looking back on my life, I can see numerous times in which I wished that a particular person would simply “go away.” Whether that situation involved school, family, church, my work, a committee, or some other group or organization, I saw that person as a drain on my time, an obstacle to my plans, and a ripple in my otherwise placid pond. Yet, when that person eventually left (they always do), I found the particular group diminished. For each of these people, in their strange way, somehow mattered. Yes, they offered a danger to be surmounted; they frequently forced a compromise; and yet, inexplicably, I always came to mourn their absence. (And, after facing less resistance, my victories tasted less sweet).
Just as it’s always tempting to push someone to the side, it’s never difficult to come up with reasons why a tradition is irrelevant for today. But be careful when removing a particular brick from your life. For while its absence might not cause a collapse, in all probability, you will one day rue its loss.
So, while I may not understand the meaning behind your ceremony, or what relevant purpose you serve, rock on, Horse Guard!
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