If you have an attic in your house, I hope it is not as cluttered as mine was until recent weeks.  That’s when we took action and had the space cleaned out of a great variety of long-nested materials.

This included books galore but also furniture and even a sculptured wooden figure.  Sorting out the material was no easy task but, with the help of experienced workers, we managed to restore the space to its original openness.

Among the items brought down from above, I appreciate the journals in which I wrote about various travels.  I depend on them to recall many features that I would otherwise have forgotten.

Unable to remember past actions clearly, I rely upon written accounts to bring back the details of my many journeys.  This enables me to recapture and relive a great variety of places, people, and things. I find names and facts, as well as my own reactions and feelings.

Perhaps I can present brief parts of two trips.  They are very different in character and time. But both indicate how I was able to capture my feelings on paper and preserve them for decades.

In July of 1998, I went to France with my wife and sister. The place that had the largest impact on us was our visit to Oradour, the village where, on June 10, 1944, soldiers in the German army slaughtered 650 men, women, and children.

It remains now as it was that day, in ruins, and viewed by silent visitors.

In reflecting on what we saw I wrote: “all this filled me with chagrin that people are capable of such merciless outrage.”  Later, I spoke of: “a renewed sense of the death of optimism –  – how can anyone possibly believe that human goodness left to itself can avail anything. We act like wild animals to one another.”

Several other stops on this French trip remain fixed in my memory. Among them my notes include Lascaux, with its caves dating from the Stone Ages; Lourdes, a pilgrimage place marked by faith and healing; and Vichy which marks the unfortunate French compromise with their Nazi conquerors.

          Let me also recall a much earlier and different kind of trip.  This was a visit to Mexico, where I stopped to see my friend Carlos. We had remained close after first becoming acquainted in college back in the late 1940’s.

In July 1974, he invited me to his new home outside Mexico City.  He had moved there, away from where I had previously visited him and his family in July of 1969. (That’s when I had shared with him one night the unforgettable vision of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon.)

During the 1974 visit, Carlos took me to “lunch” at the Banco National. (If I use quotation marks here, it’s because the meal was actually a full course dinner.) As we ate, my friend explained for me the history of the bank and its role in Mexican development.

This experience was important for me in part because it gave a clearer idea of how Carlos functioned in the business world.  It also helped me in my thinking about the role of wealth in responding to the needs of the poor.  (No answer is recorded.)

These brief reports on my travels hint at the importance of records in my life.  They continue to provide much that I could not otherwise remember.  Thanks to them, the past still lives for me, and perhaps for others as well.

Jotting down much of what seemed to me most important in my travels remains a creative part of my legacy.