I married a man who loves to travel. It's easy to know whether or not he wants to take a trip. The answer is either "yes" or "when do we go?" He's a pro at setting up itineraries, even reviewing restaurant menus on line to plan food stops along the way. My flauting of timed schedules leaves him flummoxed. While he's on a tour bus, I'm happy to walk around, stroll through a park, eat in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and see what merchandise is offered in the local hardware store. Some of my best travel memories come from the unstructured time I insist on. What a wonderful encounter I had with a group of Parisians in a coin-operated laundry. After laboring over a phrase book to translate the sign on a cathedral door, my magic decoder made me laugh at "Watch Your Step." I stood outside to formulate a detailed question, to which the shopkeeper responded--in English--"Certainly, madam." For me, these people memories are far superior to climbing over ancient ruins! However, a momument is the star of a precious moment--flying over the Statue of Liberty on the approach to Kennedy Airport. This usually brings tears to my eyes. Why? Because Lady Liberty is a powerful symbol of home. The first time I saw her, she welcomed me back from a two-year absence from the US. Like the old song says, "there's no place like home."

Carlene Havel,author of "A Hero's Homecoming"
http://www.prismbookgroup.com/AHerosH...