Culture Kids

Recently, a coworker of mine lent me the book Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom.  For those of you who don’t know, it was on the U.S. Bestseller list and it’s a highly acclaimed book, and rightfully so.  Without giving too much away, the contents of the story are pretty simple: it’s about a teacher reconnecting with his student and their very last class together: a class all about life, and how to be a good human.  And as you may guess, it only took place on Tuesdays.

Travels from the Time Vault: Czech Republic

Growing up, my parents were adamant about exposing us to our heritage.  Both of my parents come from diverse backgrounds.  My mother is English, Irish, Scottish, and Polish, while my father hails from Germany, Czechoslovakia, and England.  Any family gathering we went to was complete with delicacies from every side of our heritage.  They spared no expense when time proved available and there was a chance to explore uncharted territory.  I was very blessed with a lot of chances to see England, Germany, and other parts of Europe before reaching adolescence.  Among those as I reached my teenage years, Czech Republic made it onto my list of places visited.

Travels from the Time Vault: Sweden

Twelve years ago, my father received an email from a local hockey coach.  We’d barely been in the Chicagoland area a year at this point, but the coach presented an idea worthy of consideration.  In the spring, coincidentally during spring break, he was taking a team to Stockholm, Sweden, and he asked if we would be willing to participate.  I’d be the only girl on an all boys team (and the first girl to every participate in the tournament), which to me, was just a small detail included in the entire offer.  I’d stay with a host family and we’d be there for a whole week, taking in the Swedish culture, playing against Swedes and some Finnish players, and exploring the city.  In my mind, it was a no brainer: we had to go.  Luckily, everything checked out.  Five months later, we gathered at the airport with the team and embarked for Arlanda International Airport.

Travels from the Time Vault: Paris

Growing up in many movies I indulged in as a youngster, so much emphasis was placed upon the city of lights and romance.  Paris was like this beacon of romantic expectation.  I imagined being proposed to on top of the Eiffel Tower, overlooking the entirety of the metropolis beneath us.  I’m sure I wasn’t the only one.  And I’m certain that I’m not the only one who once pictured sauntering by the banks of the Seine, eating un pain au chocolat and sipping un café, and admiring artwork in museums like the Musée d’Orsay.  Needless to say, finally arriving in le Havre gave me goosebumps.

Travels from the Time Vault: London

I don’t remember the first time I traveled to London, mostly because I was only an infant when my parents first took me.  My father used to travel a lot with his business, so we went there frequently, as well as other places in Europe.  We continued to go there when I was younger, until our family grew a little bit more and things busied up enough where we didn’t have the time.  But we had our fair share of family adventures, most of the time accompanied by our favorite cab driver, Charles.  It wasn’t until I was eleven that I ventured there on my own with a student group.

Travels from the Time Vault: Naples

The tall mountains of the Mediterranean coastline seemed even larger from on top of them.  I had spent the last two hours on a bus full of kids my age—twelve and thirteen years old—ascending the majestic peaks ever so slowly, each circle we did around them bringing us closer and closer to the point where I felt uncomfortable staring thousands of feet down to the small foreign fishing towns below.  The mere sight of the distance between sea level and me made my stomach twist but also gave me a sense of wonder when I realized just how small the area was.

The Not-So-Snow Day in September

It was a Tuesday morning in September.  Third grade had just started barely two weeks earlier and I was getting used to my new teacher, Mrs. Crowe.  She had long red curls and big brown eyes. When she talked, any topic she brought up was bright and cheery. She made math sound like the happiest thing in the world.  Walking around as we worked on our workbooks, enthusing about how “math was the key to everything” and telling us if “we could multiply and divide, you could do anything” in that happy, cheery voice of hers.  Some days, I believed what she said to be true.