New Places

When I was in fourth grade, I had to do a project on my home state, which my teacher, the ever-rigid Mrs. Wall, defined as a person’s birthplace.  I was annoyed:  I had been born in Maryland because that’s where Bethesda Naval Hospital is.  At the time my Navy family lived in Virginia.  I felt no kinship with Marylanders. “Can I choose another state, one where I’ve really lived? Virginia? Massachusetts? Illinois?” I asked.  “Follow the instructions,” Mrs. Wall said.  To this day, I hate being told that.  Back then, I got in trouble for my home-state report on Illinois.

So born in Maryland, I lived in Virginia for a few weeks before my family moved to Massachusetts.  Eighteen months later, we crossed the continent by train to board a ship to my father’s new post in Japan.  Two years later we were stationed in Illinois.  That was just the beginning of my travels.  By age fourteen, I’d lived in eleven houses.

As a child, I enjoyed moving.  I loved the packed boxes, the different schools, and the new friends.  As an adult, I’ve stayed in the same house for the last two decades.  Still curious to see new places, however, I’ve traveled to more than fifty countries.

All of which brings me to next Tuesday when my husband Bert and I leave for South Africa and our voyage to St Helena.   I’m excited to continue my research on Napoleon, but it’s more than that—we’re off to see new places!