On August 8, after being a hospital patient for 100 days, I was released back into the free world. No more 5:30 AM visits from the blood lab techs. No more blood pressure/temperature/O2 measuring every four hours. No more being restricted to my chair or to my bed for fear of falling. Also, no more…
Sarah Miller's recounting of Charles Ingalls' pioneer dreams in Caroline: Little House Revisited could have been written about my father's Foreign Service passion.
As the leaves change to red, burnished yellow and blazing orange against the clear blue skies of fall in northern climes, South Florida continues to deliver pink, purple, white and lavender against a backdrop of green.
The nomadic life of my youth taught me four things: 1) be at home where you are; 2) let go when it's time; 3) settle in fast; and 4) forget there's anywhere else to be. This cycle puts you right back at 1) being at home where you are.
It was just the four of us again, Dad driving, Mom talking quietly to him, and Susie and I tucked into the back seat, me on the left side, her on the right side, headed off into an adventure. Instead of the Italian blue book country guide, Mom had an American map open on her lap; a hotel guide was at her feet.
Mom and Dad made their protocol farewell calls on the Ambassador and Mrs. Sparks and other senior diplomatic couples. They were fèted at our first “despedida,” a goodbye party routinely thrown by Embassy colleagues for departing friends; the “bienvenida” was the party counterpart to welcome new diplomats and their families into the Caracas Embassy.
July 3, Hotel Potomac This is our first report from Venezuela. We are set up in an unpretentious hotel called Hotel Potomac, accent on the first syllable. Looking out at the afternoon sunshine from our hotel rooms we can see why Caracas is called beautiful. The city is situated in a high valley and all…
Today, thinking about making a home, staying put, and leaving for new vistas. The writing will come. For now, these images of water life in Amsterdam.