On the Train, Following My Heart

Right now, I’m rolling across Germany on one of those sleek ICE trains, heading toward Berlin. I just spent a few quiet, soul-filling days in Baden-Baden in the Black Forest with family, and now it's full steam ahead—literally and figuratively. I’ve got my new travel companion—a shiny little laptop, ready to capture whatever stories come my way—a window seat with a desk and great Wi-Fi, and an ever-changing view of open fields, golden light, and villages that look like they fell out of a storybook.

It’s stunning. And it makes me emotional every time. The wide open spaces, the rolling hills, the stretches of farmland—I didn’t see much of that growing up in West Berlin. Back then, we were enclosed. Walled in. This kind of Weite, this sense of space and freedom, was something we could only dream about. Now, every time I  travel in Germany, it feels like I’m soaking up all the freedom I missed as a kid.

This trip isn’t a vacation. I’m back in Germany for a purpose.

I’m following my heart, a feeling that’s been growing stronger since I started my book Wings of Freedom. A pull to keep collecting the stories of the Berlin Airlift. To sit down with the people who lived through it—especially the ones who were children at the time—especially the ones who were children at the time—and explore the memories that have stayed with them all these years. To listen with open ears and an open heart. To preserve what they remember before the voices grow too quiet to hear.

It’s an honor, honestly. And a responsibility I don’t take lightly.

So, while I sip train coffee and watch wind turbines spin in the distance, I’m also mentally preparing. There are interviews ahead. Deep conversations. Layers of history to peel back. Some stories will be hard to hear. Some will leave me speechless. And all of them will remind me that the freedom we enjoy today was built by people who risked everything—people who believed in something bigger than themselves.

That’s what this project is about. Remembering. Recording. And sharing. Not just for history’s sake, but because these stories still matter. Maybe even more now than ever.

I’ll keep you posted from the road. For now, I’m just grateful to be here.
Eyes open. Heart full.