My college semester abroad was a watershed moment in my life.
My mother, in particular, told me I had “places to go, people to meet, things to do,” and I should take every opportunity to go explore the world. Dad was right with her. Of course, she and her BFF, barely out of HS, days after the Pearl Harbor attack, took the bus to NYC to take a civil service exam, joined the Army Air Corps, took a troop train to San Francisco for training, then a converted Matson passenger liner now troop carrier to Honolulu. She was an air traffic controller at Hickam Army Air Field the rest of WWII, then was shifted over to accounting after the war’s end and men returned to those jobs. She was the valedictorian of her HS class, captain of the state champion women’s basketball team, with no expectation of college in a family with 13 children in wartime. She had places to go, things to do, people to meet. And yes, she and Dad had a blast visiting me that semester, and in later years, Spain, Italy, San Francisco, San Diego, Pearl Harbor…. Anytime Mom made noises about me being far away and missing me and why couldn’t I get orders to King’s Bay Sub Base down the highway a bit, Dad reminded her whose daughter I was. I have no doubt I didn’t appreciate her as much as she deserved. Strength, brains and endless energy.