I want my kids to be able to go to the Louvre and behold The Winged Victory, eat Tapas at Plaza Mayor and dance with the gypsies in the caves of Sevilla.  I want them to hitchhike from the Spanish Steps to the nearest gelato parlor, swim in the beautiful beaches of Greece, meet a cute guy in Yugoslavia who just wants a piece of the “American chewing gum”.  Meet the Queen’s body guard at a dance club who will let them pee in the bushes of Buckingham Palace.  I want them to cry at the statue of David, fall to their knees in front of The Pieta, eat an 8 hour meal in Florence, drink beer in Munich, see the tulips in Amsterdam (a little on the high side).  I want them to sleep in an old castle in the Black Forest, sleep under the stars in Switzerland, take a paddle boat out on Lake Lucerne, see the jewels in and of Monaco.  I want them to ride the train, sleep on the deck of boats, walk across borders just to get the stamps on their passports, write on walls, walk across famous bridges singing a nursery rhyme waiting for the strike of midnight on a clock the world knows.

I want to be able to give my kids all the amazing, life changing, eye-opening experiences I had at 21 years old when I took off to Europe for 3 months. I am afraid they will never have the chance I had. And for that I cry. They are stealing from my children.


*Every single item above is true and actual.