I’m 74 years old, and I’ve never needed a passport. I’ve traveled in all fifty states, but never to foreign lands. It’s become almost a point of pride for me. “Why explore other countries when there is so much yet to discover within the United States?”
But as my years have clicked along, our world keeps getting smaller and smaller.
Several years ago, I reconciled to the fact I would never experience other countries firsthand. That was okay. I read the paper. I listen to the news. I dream of what ancient lands were all about.
A few weeks ago, a wonderful friend asked me to join him on a trip to Morocco, Egypt and Israel this November. He owns a jet. I don’t.
I found my original birth certificate. I got a passport. I’m going to experience another piece of the world.
Maybe on a camel.