I’m here because my great-grandfather stole the general’s boots.
It was the winter of 1855; the Crimean war was going into its second freezing winter, and a young junior sergeant was losing hope that he could escape the gruesome battle.
One bitter cold morning, he was snapped out of his sleep and tasked with bringing the general’s boots to the cobbler to be shined. With a nod and a prompt “right away, sir!” he eagerly grabbed the muddy boots and headed straight into town to clean them.
On his way back he passed the popular market and it was buzzing with people. Someone saw the shinny boots and offered him a good price for them.
My great-grandfather sold the general boots.
There are very few moments in our lives when a single choice can drastically change our future and when it come, you have to be ready to grab it.
He bought a third-class boat ticket to London, he worked in the port just to make enough money to buy a ticket on the ship going to America.
In times of war, the rules of the game change, and his small infraction saved his life, making it possible, four generations later, for me to be here.
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