One of the most humbling and joyous achievements of parenthood is watching your children get better than you. I have been quite good at lot of things, then watched my own flesh and blood do them even better. Zekiah blasts past me in soccer, logical thinking, even professional networking these days.  Galen’s fingers dance beyond…

We don’t know what to do. Our boys have left us – off to Portugal for four days of Bro Time (our Christmas gift to them) then back to their real lives – and we’re feeling once again the Empty Nesting Blues and trying to get our travel mojo back. Morocco has been great for…

“Papa, hold me!” My little boy would look up at me plaintively, arms upstretched, wide teary eyes, clearly and unabashedly expressing his need for comfort and connection. I vowed then and there to always respond. Once in a while the response had to be a deferral to a later time that I would be careful…

Africa is embedded deep within me. A childhood of African dreaming after cousin Sharon came back from Peace Corps with drums and jewelry and tie-dyed cement-bag robes. Backpacking through Egypt-Kenya-Uganda-Zaire after college grad. Seven years there with Habitat for Humanity then another four back&forth to Kenya with ACCES.  But of course, Morocco ain’t Zaire, and…

With two of us in Turkey and one child (Zekiah) flying to Europe anyways to start a semester of Urban Design studies in Copenhagen, it was cheaper and wilder to bring the boys here for Christmas instead of us flying back across the pond. After much deliberation, we agreed to give them their first taste…