Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your years – I mean ears.

Tell me the truth. Does the evil that men do live after them while the good is interred with the bones? Is there a way to learn the meaningful lessons of life before most of life has been squandered?

After my college junior year abroad, I imagined I’d return later to linger for seasons at a time on the banks of the Arno, strolling with my children hand in hand while pointing out the wonders of the world. I imagined home schooling – always far away from home. I was determined to avoid trappings of the ultra-fast and often meaningless search for the American dream – carpools and commutes, days without siesta and retailers without soul.

It’s such a big wonderful world and such a short life. How can we possibly feel justified sending our little troopers off day after day to marinade in public education and still expect them to grow up interesting, interested citizens? No wonder TV becomes the drug of choice for most people. After public education, it all makes sense. I became somewhat depressed watching my two older children become subjects of that ritual I'd pledged to avoid for them - and myself.

Then again, it is all too easy to be critical of mass education (and any other public government program for that matter). Of course it’s wonderful that someone offers to teach our children, no matter the methodology or approach. But let’s face it - given the option, what child wouldn’t prefer 24 semesters at sea vs. 12 years of wandering hallways? What person wouldn’t come away from that alternative with a sense of wonder and delight?

Long ago I imagined a life less traveled – which equated to nothing more than a life more traveled. Although I wasn’t able to globe trot with my older sons – never lived that dream on the banks of the Arno – they managed on their own to venture to distant ports and are not limited by custom, routine or standards other than their own. That makes me happy.

What makes me doubly happy is now having the opportunity to actually live out my old dream of using the world itself as an educational laboratory for my other two children. Indeed I will be strolling hand in hand, as we did two years ago in the Baltic, beckoning the boys to share with us the awesome response to historical evidence and works of art. We bonded ever closer having shared this most essential and iconic experience – glancing back into time, allowing art and history to penetrate our psyches. We shall do it again. And again.

I realize that taking the kids on the European trek through antiquities satisfies not only my old dreams, it also offers them the opportunity for personal discovery and insight. I can’t possibly know in advance what they will make of their personal experiences, but whatever it is putting it before them can't possibly hurt.

Perhaps I have ambitious notions. We know what ambition did to Julius Caesar! But you heard Mark Anthony. His famous speech was filled with irony, knowing full well that Brutus was NOT an honorable man (even though he was momentarily popular his 15 minutes would burn out) and the good that men do does live on and that people who get so easily swayed from the truth die too - and are not remembered.

I am constantly reminded of the strange and turbulent shifts of public attitude and opinion that wave through young people’s lives. To fight the fickle winds of change and peer pressure they need a solid, enduring perspective that assures them they are pointed due north, regardless of what next crazy fad or outlook bubbles up.

Strolling through history teaches by example and assures them nothing is new either; it has always been so with humans. So we don't want to hear about how tough things are on today's generation. Their challenges may be slightly different - but nothing new. And my goodness! How much easier it all is now than it was for our ancestors! We have history to read, archeology to explore, internet to search. What excuse does it leave for ignorance besides the age-old human trap - laziness and inertia?

Shakespeare put the words into Mark Anthony’s mouth, and he spoke for all the ages:

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

Join us, as we pause to take a trek through time and recover our hearts.