It’s inevitable that the older I am, the more I think back to memories that have disappeared before my eyes. Not long ago, I read an article about how few children today know the words (or the meaning) of our national anthem, the Star-Spangled Banner. Even more troublesome to me is the thought that children likely don’t know who Francis Scott Key is.
Our church has a weekly discussion group that ostensibly serves as a Bible Study group; however, we stray far and wide with the topics we discuss. Except for one young man, we are all ancient. This week, we began discussing the Bible for about five minutes, then transitioned into how children were taught in the 1950s, which consumed the remainder of the session.
Next week, I plan to steer our conversation toward events that occurred in the 1970s. How exciting.
I’m a dreamer at heart, proudly born and raised in San Francisco—a city that covers just 49 square miles but was heaven on earth for me. Every corner of The City (as we natives affectionately call it) has been a part of my life. No area ever felt too distant. With wide eyes and an open heart, I’ve always welcomed the world around me. I find joy in creativity, wonder, and discovering new possibilities—whether that’s through international work adventures or dreaming up the next exciting idea. Even though San Francisco was my hometown, my passport has taken me to many amazing places and introduced me to wonderful people, shaping me in countless ways. I carry pieces of these experiences and friendships with me wherever I go. Above all, I treasure my family, friends, and those small, meaningful moments that keep my spirit alive and thriving. I never want my curiosity to fade away.
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Are we there yet? 