Freedom

Back in the days before the Berlin Wall came down and the Cold War ended, I had the opportunity to travel to Europe on a tour with my history teacher, Mr. Preston, and a few classmates.  An interesting experience since I am certain it was an extravagance my family could not afford.  My mother found a way to make it happen and off I went to experience the wonders of the world as a young teen.  I traveled through England, France, Italy, Switzerland, Austria and Germany.  I met beautiful people and lost myself in the enchanting scenery (well, sometimes .... sometimes I lost myself in the eyes of a cute boy in my tour group, too.  How could I help that?)  I realize now I was too young to fully appreciate the opportunity I was given back then, but my short time abroad forever changed my feelings about the blessed land we live in.

My group traveled to beautiful and safe places.  The most "dangerous" part of the journey occurred in Italy where I wasn't allowed as a young, blond, American girl to walk down the street without an adult male escort.  Seriously.  Those Italian heartthrobs trailed me everywhere and attempted to seduce me on the street, male chaperones notwithstanding.  My teenage brain didn't register danger, only excitement.  Mr. Preston threatened to lock me in the hotel.  How could I help being excited?  What with the "Ciao, baby!"s, the shoes, the cuisine and the gelato stands.  I was ready to become an Italian citizen forever.  The danger to a young girl was very real, but I failed to sense it. 

The end of the trip was spent in Germany.  Our tour guide, Trudy, shared stories of traveling into Eastern Germany and other Eastern Bloc countries.  Tourists who ventured there were not permitted to carry cameras and were jailed if they violated any number of rules.  She shared stories of depravity and suppression.  It terrified me.  I was safely on the West side of the Berlin Wall, but I felt the plight of those confined souls living beyond suffering in darkness that I did not want to get caught in. I was completely safe.  There was no danger to me, but nothing (not even gelato) would have induced me to give away my US citizenship then.  I was ready to go home.

When I stepped onto US soil again, I felt an immediate sense of security.  I was home again, where I understood the rules and I was free to live a life as I chose to live it.  I experienced a tangible warmth when I took that first step off the plane and have never forgotten it.  And I take a moment here to appreciate those who have sacrificed for this country and for the freedom and safety I enjoy.  While I appreciate our veterans, my heart is full of gratitude today for those - like my sister Nicole - who live knowing their husbands (or sons, fathers, daughters, brothers, uncles, sisters, etc.) may not come home tomorrow.  I honor her sacrifice just as much as I honor her husband's service in the Air Force.  Jason will be deploying to Iraq again next month. My brother-in-law, Kris, is stationed there again, too.  How does she do it?  How does she give him up so often for so long?  How does she survive the anxiety and the reality of the danger to him?  How does she sleep?  I don't know how, but I am grateful for it.  She is stronger than I.

Happy Veteran's Day.


"Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” ~ Miriam Beard