Happy Sunday Everyone!
I got the travelling bug from my parents.
As soon as we were old enough to lug around and sleep in drawers they were talking my brother and I on trips around Europe. I have formative memories of winding cobblestone streets, of medieval French countrysides and the inherent excitement of airports.
As you must in Europe, we visited a lot of old churches. Now, my family has no religion, except for the New Democratic Party. And I’m sure there were far more interesting things for a little boy than quietly walking the pews of echoing cathedrals. So this one time, when they lead me up to the altar (see, I almost forgot what that word was), and little five-year-old Max had just about had enough, upon seeing Christ on the crucifix, I said loudly with the exaggerated exasperation of the toddler,
“There’s that GUY again!”
My parents’ humiliation was cushioned by their laughter.