It Wasn’t Called a Bucket List

I remember when I first desired to see all the fascinating places in the world when I was a kid. We heard about them in school, of course, but it was when I discovered one of the rooms in the 4-room school (not including the bathrooms) that had floor to ceiling bookshelves full of books.  The books that took my eye were the National Geographic with it’s golden rim outlining the cover picture. There were full page sized photographs in rich wonderful colors on page after page. Somewhere in time, this magazine has lost some of the richness by adding more text and much smaller photos. The old brick schoolhouse was still being used except only one room was used for five grades.  Each row was a different grade. All of the junior high and high school students were bussed to another town. There was no internet – just encyclopedias and books. 



It was not a bucket list but I had dreams of going to see the Pyramids in Egypt.



Dreams of climbing the tallest mountain in the lush green Andes in South America – perhaps Machu Picchu.





I wanted to go to Siam and see the exquisite graceful dancers with their unique golden costumes. I wanted to watch them dance and even learn how they moved their heads and fingers.

How do they move their hands and fingers – I am sure it takes intense practicing since they were children.


Not that it was last but I wanted to visit Poland because my father’s side of the family was Polish.  It used to get my goat when my father and grandmother spoke Polish so that I couldn’t tell what they were saying.  He knew Polish; I did not!

Czestochowia Dancers

How can I not be fascinated by my own Polish culture?

I want a vest like this one.



The beard is a little funky.

Black Madonna from Czestochowia


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