I think I'd be hard pressed to find a writer out there who didn't first start out as a reader.  I certainly did.  I remember the long hot summers being filed with trips to the library, where I would wander through the stacks, poring over the books and then inevitably coming home with a pile that I would read - one by one - until I'd gotten through them all.  

I've always had a connection to the written word, a trait I inherited from my father, who in his retirement spent so much time in his chair reading, that he finally had to cancel his new subscription to the New York times because he wasn't able to pull himself away long enough to get his other tasks done. 

I still count seeing an original Gutenberg Bible as one of the great highlights of my life - both thrilling and touching to know the immensity of the invention of the printing press and one of the books that began a new era of knowledge in the world.  

So it should come as no surprise that picking my favorite childhood book was a bit of a challenge.  And to say that this one book is my favorite, isn't really a fair assessment.  There are many others: A New Coat for Anna, Bony Legs, The Mitten, Amelia Badelia, Mrs. Katz and Tush, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Molly's Pilgrim and so many more that mean something to me. 

But I decided to pick The Keeping Quilt by Patricia Polacco. The story tracks the generations of Patricia's family from when they first come to America from Russia, through the creation and passing down of a quilt that was made with her grandmother's dress and babushka and the fabric from the clothing of people they had left behind in Russia.  Through this keeping quilt, we see the story of Patricia's family, the precious moments of births, weddings, childhood play, and death.  We see the passing down of traditions and the way traditions change over time to befit who we have become and the way society has changed. At it's core, the story is a reminder of family - it honors the way we are connected and cherishes the connection to our past and future.  

I love the way Patricia Polacco's stories do justice to her Jewish Russian roots by telling stories that are interlaced with cultural traditions that are often forgotten in American society.  Her illustrations, too are a stunning and full of warmth and character.  

The Keeping Quilt is the kind of book that is as timeless as the American experience itself.  We all have our keeping quilts - whether we are connected to our families or not.  They are the traditions, either passed down or discovered that remind us that we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.  That by embracing traditions and creating new ones, we are remembering those who came before us and we are creating the new world for the next generation.  That's why we connect to history and cultures: we are being drawn to the people of the past who have left a bit of themselves behind in us and for us.  And for some of us, if we're lucky, we have tokens like Patricia's keeping quilt to hold close to and to remind us of our connection to another time and our connection to each other. 

1.  beef stew
2.  crab cakes
3.  fish Tacos
4.  Aunt Zana's special cake
5.  burritos
6.  cinnamon rolls
7.  vegetable soup (minestrone, soupe au pistou)
8.  mashed potatoes
9.  roasted cauliflower
10.  salade chevre chaud​

Can I pick a favorite child?

I've done a lot of traveling and most of them end up being good in some way - a needed retreat, fascinating locations, new people and a greater sense of the world and my part in it.  So it's hard for me to pick just one.  

For clarity, I'm going to say studying or living abroad​ doesn't count.  It really is a different kind of experience, and doesn't seem true to the intent of the question.  

But, I did travel during my times living elsewhere and I do think those times on the road count as a trip,  so I'm picking Europe, in the summer of 2007, co-starring Emiglia and the Scottish One. 

"Best" feels like a vague term for a thing like traveling because, so often, traveling isn't one prolonged high, but a series of ups and downs, and highs and lows that come with living at full speed.  We're not talking about lounging on the beach sipping a cocktail, we're talking about being On the Road.  

But I think if I'm going to take stock of my travels, the summer of my 21st year, living out a 50 pound suitcase and sleeping in hostels with two amazing friends was certainly a highlight and an experience that will live on as something that can never be truly recreated, but will always hold a special place in my heart.  It was a certain time in my life that sits in the glow the past, where the memories of a lucky and full life go to retire and send us a smile throughout the years.  

Look, I'm smiling now.

The nuts and bolts of the journey were as such:  6 weeks post study abroad in the South of France, three friends, 2 Eurail and one InterRail pass, a jar of peanut butter, hardly any money and the wind at our backs.  

Here's where we went: Paris (1 nt. transit), Edinburgh (a week at the Scottish One's parents house being mothered by, well, S.O.'s mother), Dublin (my doing, surprise), Amsterdam, Normandy, Bordeaux, San Sebastian, Barcelona, Berlin (parting ways with Emiglia), Munich, Cannes, home.  Or at least that's how I remember it. 

You can imagine that we were tired by the end.  But honestly, not as tired as you'd think.  So much happened that it's hard to describe it all here, so I won't really try.   There are some highlights:  seeing the Scottish house of Parliament and walking by the sea in Edinburgh, visiting Ireland for the first time and falling in love with it immediately and profoundly, discovering Emiglia's deadly allergy to buck wheat in rural Northern France and then partying with the locals who helped save her after She Did Not Die, hearing the heavenly music play at the Bordeaux Cathedral, eating tapas in San Sebastian, marveling at the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, feeling the immensity of Berlin and the indescribable speed at which is was changing, having a beer and a brat with new friends in Munich, and finally learning the empty feeling inside when, inevitably, you have to go home.

Many a person has tried to describe the way their lives are changed by travel, but in some way, we all fail just a little bit.  There isn't a person or a thing in the world that could recreate what it means to be elsewhere, but feel home.  What its like to be alone, but not lonely; lost, but exactly where you're meant to be.  It's the act of the whole thing together - the journey, not the destination that sticks with us and makes us into something entirely new.  

There are other parts of that trip that will live with me forever and that I'll always share with my friends who were with me.  But some of those memories are for later, or maybe just for me to remember.  With a warm glow and a smile.