We only live once, but if we do it right…

When I was a little girl, all I wanted to do was become a Catholic nun.

I grew up in a military family. My Dad was a genius — my opinion — but I recall he was honored for the math competitions he entered, and yet he was a Sargeant Major in the Canadian Army. I don’t think that was his dream.

My Daddy, me, taken by my mother with her old Brownie Camera

We never had a good relationship once I hit my teenage years.

By then, my dad was a full-on alcoholic, and all I remember are arguments that left me in tears. But I do have fond memories of watching him in his basement workroom on his ham radio. He would show me how he was talking with people all over the world. I didn’t inherit his math skills, but I did want to know and meet people from all over the world.

My Dad never lived his dreams.

I believe my mom once told me he wanted to be a doctor. But when it came time for medical school, his father had lost the family money, and my father entered the army instead.

After six months in the convent, I left.

My dreams shattered. I couldn’t see the benefit of scrubbing toilets, washing floors, and prayer when all I wanted was to feed the poor and look after the orphans — make a difference in the world. So…