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Eyes Without a Face
Early on in the pandemic whenever I found myself wearing my mask at the grocery store, the words to a Billy Idol tune would come to mind immediately. Bagging my asparagus, I couldn’t help but hum “Eyes Without a Face.” Over the last few months, I return to that song with every store I find myself in. (Admittedly, I sing rather than hum, but that is beside the point). Although I love 80’s music and specifically that song, something else sparked that song’s words. With mask restrictions in place, maybe we are invited to a more profound way of looking at one another. Like most things in life, we are…
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Not Just Another Day
It was the fourth Thursday in November, and a chill was in the air. The leaves had changed, and the trees were already bare in some cases, awaiting the cold winter months ahead. It was a school day. It was a work day. It was just another day in Switzerland. But it wasn’t just another day for us Americans…it was Thanksgiving. Last year was the first year that we spent Thanksgiving in Switzerland. It was a surreal day because instead of attending the local high school football game in the morning, I dropped the kids off at school. Instead of spending the day with family, I ran errands and cleaned. …
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Hope and Home
Walking through the familiar door into the place I called home for most of my childhood and teenage years brought contentment and, yet, a sense of conflict. I knew what stair created the loudest creak. I knew what seat gave the best view of the TV. Looking up at night, I knew the shadows on the ceiling before I fell asleep. This was my home during some of the most influential times of my life. This was my home that gave birth to great joy, great sorrow, and great love. This was my home. And yet, I was a visitor. For this was my parent’s home. Pulling up to the…
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U.S.A. vs. Germany
Taking the train through the countryside of Germany brought up some nostalgic emotions as it was the first time in my life that I was in the country of my grandfather’s origin. It was the first time physically being in touch with a part of me that I rarely think about. As an American, most of my generation are “Mutts.” That is, we are a mix of many nationalities. So, although I am 75% Irish and only 25% German, my last name, Illig, is German. I am proud to say that it originates from Germany. Having said that, I am an American citizen. And I am proud and not ashamed…
