In the summer of 1961, I was ten years old. My brother had just died, mysteriously, while in the navy. My older sister, Betty, was living with her husband, who was stationed in Rome. She was not able to return for the funeral. Perhaps, to make it up to the family, she convinced my mother to let me visit her.

Having never flown before, I was scared when the plane took off, but after I was in the air - it was great. With the clouds right next to my window, I felt like I was in heaven.

My mother had made arrangements for my stewardess, Annaka, to take care of me during my layover in Amsterdam. She took me on a tour of the city by trolley. Then we visited her mother, who lived in a building with a windmill on top. For supper we ate Swiss cheese, butter and breadsticks.

The next day, Betty, her husband, Sonny, and son, Keith, met me at the airport in Rome. Keith had had Polio when he was a baby and was scheduled for surgery at an air force base in Germany. Betty wanted Keith and me to see the countryside, so her husband drove. It took three days and two nights to get there. On the way, we took a boat to Venice, where we toured the city by gondola and fed the pigeons in St. Mark's Square. The next day, we headed for the Swiss Alps. I had never seen so much snow!

After arriving in Wiesbaden, Betty and I settled into the Amelia Earhart Hotel, right next to the army hospital, and Sonny drove back to Rome. While Betty visited with Keith in the hospital, I spent my time on tours. I saw so many castles, including King Charlemagne's. When Keith was ready, we returned to Rome via military plane.

Betty took me to the Vatican and the Coliseum. At Trevi Fountain I tossed a coin over my shoulder and made a wish. My wish was to return to Rome before I died. I haven't gone yet, but my wish is still alive.