Home leave territory is a place where it is always summer, where our extended family lived in the same homes year after year, and where we were the celebrated visitors.
In 1955, I learned how to walk to a Latin playlist The earliest tunes I remember hearing were the Venezuelan rhythms of música criolla which the radio stations in Caracas played at night. Dad had an affinity for music—part genetic, his farmer father was a self-taught fiddler, and part born of listening to songs streaming…
We stand with the brave people of Ukraine, as President Kennedy with the people of Berlin in 1963.
For the first time, my husband and I did not have turkey for our Thanksgiving meal, choosing instead butter-soft filet mignon for our dinner-for-two this year. However, tradition is much on my mind. As US embassies, foreign service families, and ex-pats of all kinds celebrate America’s national holiday abroad, the events of the day are…
We all have celebration traditions. Mine are Birthday Breakfast and anchovy pizza. Here’s why.
My mother never imagined that she’d be a part—time diplomat, mother of two bilingual kids, boss to a live-in maid, figuring out how to get through a revolution.
“They’re looking for PJ’s head honchos,” my father said. “Russ just had a mob in front of their house thinking his diplomatic plates were Venezuelan issue for the regime.”
The Venezuelan dictator flew over our house on his way into exile.
Though I looked American, I was not; I was a sort of clandestine foreigner.
Recovering in Amsterdam When I was hospitalized for three months in Holland in 2019, the highlight of each day was spending the afternoon hours with my husband. It was the only thing that kept him going, he told me much later. Although our daughter had flown to be by his side for the six weeks…