Verulamium. A strong, exotic name for a village. Roman and ancient. A part of the history that is St. Albans, an ancient town about 40 miles north of London.
The cemetery outside the cathedral.
Strolling over the manicured football pitches covering what was once the ancient Roman town of Verulamium, 'The Time Machine' of H.G Wells comes to mind. In the story,  the time machine could travel forward or backward through time, but always staying in the same geographic location. He never left home. A linear history of people on the same site for millennia.  Families living working enjoying the same outdoor space. The sounds of laughter, barking dogs, games in action,  the very sound of life all in the shadow of St. Albans monastery and cathedral. A continuous line of life and living in this one spot.

The remains of a piece of the original Roman wall date from 256 A.D. It juts up from the earth. Carefully layered and precisely constructed with local materials and techniques.  It reminds us of the fact we are not the sole possessors of this space. On the shoulders of the past we reach for the stars of tomorrow. The wall defined the edge of the comfort zone of people of the age. A defined and defensible space. In other words the starting line for the journey into the unknown. We all put up walls. Our finish lines are just figments of our current imagination, waiting to be stretched and pulled to their current limit. Always offering a new starting line. How do we leave with the firings of the starters gun, and lift ourse lves over that first hurtle to go beyond the walls of comfort and safety. I would say all of our forebears did it. Leaving the knowledge and perhaps not in all cases comfort, of the familiar behind. To go forth from the old world,  seeking fortune, fame or freedom in the new.

How quickly d o we lose touch with our past, a generation or two and memories or lines of family are forgotten. There are television shows in both the US and the UK about finding ones lost heritage. It's called 'Who do you think you are'.  Each week a celebrity or  notable figure traces their heritage back along certain family lines.  Aside from the possible scandal of ancestors gone bad, or faced with horrendous circumstances of lives gone awry.  My wife and I are struck by how quickly and easily we can lose touch with the generations that pass before us. Especially in our own lives. How quickly the faces of family members in previous generations escape out of our consciousness. Old photographs that suddenly become meaningless because the knowledge of who is in them is lost.

It is about minding the gap, The gap between generations. We tend to forget that on those backs and shoulders we are able to rise to the next level. Achieve new goals reach for new stars. It's on the shoulders of the sometimes forgotten we attain our immediate goals.
So as we walk along the playfields of the Veralium of the world. we need to take a minute and pay homage and thanks for those shoulders that provided the platform for our success.
Take the time to fully understand and study your own family. For they may not be celebrity, but they are giants, your own personal Atlas with your world on his shoulders.
I am especially guilty of the neglect. Documenting the world for the eyes of our readers we get caught up in the big picture and forget to bring that same enthusiasm home. Time waits for no man. There might not be another tomorrow for the elder statesman of your family, not another day to ask about the people in these faded photographs. Who really was grandpa/grandma. Where did they come from and essentially, where did I come from.
So when you walk the grounds of your own personal St. Abans, take the time to not only thank the spirits of those that have gone before, but,  celebrate their accomplishments by keeping them alive in your memories. Their knowledge and experiences are the paving stones on the road to your own personal journey. Walkers leave the side entrance