Why I am a perpetual observer

My father was a civil engineer,  and, in his early years, a Wyoming cowboy who fought in WWII. He started going overseas, I believe, in the 50s. Certainly before I could walk he had taken his family to Europe on the Queen Mary, and I remember from stories that I was not yet speaking when we moved to Bangladesh (it was East Pakistan then). He worked on numerous projects all over the world, improving roads, dams, bridges, etc. And on average, up until I was 17 or so, we averaged a different country every 2 - 3 years. 

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Losing Touch - The story of a serial ex-pat

As part of my minimalism kick, over the last year or so I have been going through what few mementos I still had. Most of my keepsakes burned up in a storage unit fire in the year 1999 - lost everything from my childhood and the military and family (very liberating in a way). But I still had stuff that I carried with me.

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