Never Give Up On Your Dreams

 Inthe Fall of 1973, I entered sixth grade. My teacher was new to our school,fresh out of college. I was in a smaller classroom with fewer students—twentyof us. Our entire class was one of the largest ever for our town, so we were spreadthrough five classrooms on the third floor of Washington School, with more ofus attending the Catholic parochial school.

I’veforgotten when that school year it happened or why, but one day, our teachertold us about an ancient Buddhist temple in Cambodia, Angkor Wat. I saw apicture of it; I don’t remember if it was in a textbook or projected on ascreen. I was fascinated and enthralled. I vowed I would someday, somehow, gothere.

Flashforward fifty years. Holy cow, fifty years!?!

Andhere we are. Three weeks from now (as I post this), I will be in that plane fora fifteen-hour flight over the United States and the Pacific Ocean, Godwilling. This is the fourth time my friend and I have scheduled this trip sincejust weeks before COVID-19 descended on us.

Iwould appreciate it if you would keep me and this trip in your prayers. Andnever give up on your dreams.

This picture is of Angkor Wat. I borrowed it off of the internet. 
The other picture is me and my classmates that fated year. 
It looks like most of us were only dreaming of a better hair day or at least less hideous clothes.