Never Give Up On Your Dreams

 In the 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—twenty of us. Our entire class was one of the largest ever for our town, so we were spread through five classrooms on the third floor of Washington School, with more of us attending the Catholic parochial school.

I’ve forgotten when that school year it happened or why, but one day, our teacher told us about an ancient Buddhist temple in Cambodia, Angkor Wat. I saw a picture of it; I don’t remember if it was in a textbook or projected on a screen. I was fascinated and enthralled. I vowed I would someday, somehow, go there.

Flash forward fifty years. Holy cow, fifty years!?!

And here we are. Three weeks from now (as I post this), I will be in that plane for a fifteen-hour flight over the United States and the Pacific Ocean, God willing. This is the fourth time my friend and I have scheduled this trip since just weeks before COVID-19 descended on us.

I would appreciate it if you would keep me and this trip in your prayers. And never 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.