Thinking of The Roman Empire, A Northwoods Cabin, and Goodison Park

My shadow along with the Colosseum.

This past June, I found myself in Rome for the first time. I was there on a brief work trip, and to fully experience the city's wonders, I woke up at 5 a.m. each day to walk around the city—hours before my meetings began or the hordes of tourists would emerge. It is truly an astoundingly beautiful place.

On my first morning, I walked across the Tiber towards the Via dei Fori Imperiali, a road that cuts through the ancient city, ending at the Colosseum. Despite what the title of this post and recent social media trends might suggest, I haven’t spent much time thinking about the Roman Empire. Because of this, I chose to educate my self listening to historical podcasts about the city as I walked its streets. The history of the Colosseum is fascinating, violent, and strikingly modern in its conception of spectacle. However, what struck me most wasn’t the depravity of its past but the realization that millions of individuals had made the same walk to its walls that I was making that morning.

That's the inescapable reality about Rome—you cant avoid it’s history. It’s a city where time is permanently bent, and individuals and events from thousands of years ago continue to cast shadows on the everyday. But it wasn’t just ancient Romans I was thinking of that day, because through history, far more archaeologically focused tourists have visited the Colosseum than Roman spectators ever did.

My father spent much of his career as a tour guide. He worked for a family travel agency in Western Michigan founded by his brother. Initially, in the '80s and '90s, the brothers used their European connections—both being immigrants from the Netherlands—to plan trips for and guide Americans on overseas excursions. As travel changed and more people were able to book their own flights and hotels online, the business had to rely on larger group tours—traveling student groups, college bands, or choirs. In his role, my father no doubt visited all the major sites in Europe countless times with either a Iowa City Central High School Marching Band or the West Michigan Christian College Choir in tow.

I was thinking about this while standing in front of the Arch of Constantine, just southwest of the Colosseum, when I realized that, much like I was doing that morning, my father would get up before his groups were awake and go on long solo walks. A true explorer, he found ambling through a city and coming upon its different sites and neighborhoods by chance one of the most enjoyable ways to experience travel. I realized, in fact, that he most likely stood in the very spot where I was now during one of those strolls.

My father Johannes Witte in Guatemala. He did the socks and sandal thing before it was cool.

After a year of illness my father, Johannes Witte, died of cancer this past April. Like many children, I was not as close with my dad as I should have been—and not nearly as forgiving. And also like everyone who has lost a parent, his absence in my life has been much larger than I ever could have imagined.

So, at that moment, staring at the Colosseum, realizing that he too could have been in this very spot, I was filled with emotion. I’m sure the few tourists who were out early that morning must have mistaken me for a massive Roman history buff, overcome with the joy of visiting such a significant site. But in fact, I was just a son, overwhelmed by the unexpected presence of my deceased father in a city full of ghosts.

That is the strange thing about the places and buildings that frame our lives. Streets, walls, rooms, and locations don’t just provide views, but capture moments, and memories that connect you to the past.

A Northwoods Cabin

The Cabin

For 27 years, I have been going with my wife to her family cabin in Northern Wisconsin. To call it a cabin is actually generous. The wooden log structure is the only remaining building from an early 20th-century resort—more walleye fishing than spa-type resort. It was built as the game room for the resort, but over time, two bedrooms, a bathroom, closet-sized kitchen, and most importantly, a porch were added. That wide enclosed porch full of multi-paned windows looking directly out at the lake, which stands just yards away, is where we spend most of our time when visiting. It has been the location of magical evenings from our youth, it is where our newly born daughters laughed at the lake reflected sunlight bouncing off of the ceiling. It was in this room where we gathered each night for large dinners  with brothers, sisters, parents, friends, and neighbors. Over the past 27 years, this room has remained unchanged, and as I have aged, returning to it makes me feel closer to all the years before. It is an anchor in the rapidly changing seas of life.

This past year, my wife’s parents handed over the cabin to her and her siblings. Now, the responsibility of three families with their own kids it is clear that the small space will no longer meet our needs. There are discussions of a shiny new building with multiple bedrooms, ample baths, new window-filled walls facing the lake, and open-concept floor plans. It will be very nice, but one of my favorite aspects of this building is seeing it appear, seemingly unchanged, from among the pine trees as I drive down the dirt driveway. An view unchanged since I was a 20 year old and visiting for the first time.

What happens to all of those memories, the ones that are bottled up in the physical spaces of that building? What happens to my memories when that space is gone? Do I lose touch with a time that has been so beautifully suspended in this old sagging building?

Goodison Park

These are the places and experiences that came to mind when thinking about the impending closure of the historic Goodison Park. I’m not an Everton Football Club supporter, but like many Americans, the team has a special place in my heart thanks to the lifelong devotion of Roger Bennett. Bennett, of Men in Blazers fame, has served as a bridge between English football and countless fans in the U.S., and his existential battles with Everton fandom are as familiar to us as apple pie or Chipotle.

Goodison Park

Bennett is not unlike many Everton fans in that his devotion is deep, total, irrational, and at times, perhaps cruel. Despite that, there is something about the Toffees—named after the tradition of candy being thrown into the stands by a local toffee shop—that has garnered the commitment of generations of fans in Liverpool and abroad. And almost all of the generations would come together and support their club in one place, Goodison Park.

Opened in 1892, Goodison was not Everton’s first home. In fact, they won their first league title at that other famous Liverpool ground, Anfield. If it were not for the financial demands of Anfield’s landlord, John Houlding, Everton might still be playing there. That, of course, would have meant that they would be the only team playing there. The club’s decision to leave Anfield and build a new stadium along Goodison Road led to John Houlding forming a new club to fill his now-vacant stadium—Liverpool FC.

1905 Image of Goodison Park

When Goodison Park hosted its first match, Everton versus Bolton Wanderers, it was one of the largest and most well-appointed grounds in the country and quickly became the site for numerous cup finals. Goodison Park was also among the first stadiums to have a double-decker stand, covered dugouts, a heated pitch, and a player’s tunnel. Beyond architectural innovations, its significance in football history is underlined by its hosting of key events, including 1966 World Cup matches and the first ever football venue visit by a reigning British monarch, King George V, in 1913.

The stadium's unique atmosphere and tight-knit stands have also made it one of the most intimidating grounds for visiting teams, with the close proximity of fans to the pitch creating an electrifying environment. With attendance above 70,000 spectators as early as the 1940s, the building has always been one of the country’s largest. Goodison has not only been a host to matches but also history. In 1939, it was commandeered as an anti-aircraft post and hosted American baseball matches between American servicemen, and the damage inflicted on the Gwladys Street Stand by a German bombing is still visible today.

But most importantly, Goodison has been the stage on which the the joys, sorrows, and memories of countless fans have played out—fans who no doubt reconnect with their younger selves, with times past, and people lost when between the walls of this ground. There are, in fact, the ashes of over 800 fans buried in the park. There would be more if the club had not stopped granting requests. It is that history that I imagine is the most important to true Evertonians.

Bramley-Moore Dock Stadium

The time has now come for Everton to move to a new home. Starting next year, the excitement of home matches will no longer vibrate through the sanctuary of St. Luke’s Church which has stood yards from the Field throughout it’s existence. Everton will be moving to a new stadium, Bramley-Moore Dock Stadium, that will feature state-of-the-art facilities, increased seating capacity, and a design that aims to blend modernity with the historic essence of the club. Yet, much like my family’s cabin in Wisconsin, it is Goodison Park that holds decades of memories for its fans. It is  Goodison Park where fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, have shared in the highs and lows of football. It’s Goodison Park where time stood still for ninety minutes on countless weekend afternoons to make way for joy, heartbreak, and memory.

I feel for Everton fans. Unlike the Colosseum, Goodison Park will not remain standing as a portal to its past but is instead slated for demolition. Evertonians will lose a building, much like our Northwoods cabin, that provides a deep connection to their past, to loved ones, and to history. I don’t know what Bramley-Moore will bring them, but I hope they find ways to maintain their connection to all the past generations that have stood beside them at Goodison. This way, they can have the experience of coming upon those memories unexpectedly on an early morning walk to its walls.