This morning I listened to a story about my grand parents. My grandfather was a field working lugging sacks of potatoes for 12-hours a day when he was eight. My grand mother started working the same kind of toil at around the same age. This was true of many kids around the world at the time. It is still true in some places. I grew up in a very different environment.

While their stories take place in a different time and place, I still have compassion for their situations and how they lived their lives. I can identify with my grand parents because they are a part of my personal history, and I knew them as individuals. I had experiences with them and I have found I can identify with them.

Now that I write travel articles, one of the first things I consider, before I sit down at my lap top with my feet on the coffee table, is how do understand the people I have met even though many come from very different environments than my own? How do I identify with them?

I try to understand the people and the destination and write articles with a sense of compassion of their experiences. Because the people I meet become part of my personal history and I get to know them as individuals – even if only for a little while.

This photo is of a mural in Nicaragua. Sadly, I don’t remember taking the photo, but found it in my collection and it seemed fitting for this story. I don’t know the name of the artist, but would like to give her/him credit. If someone knows who painted this, please leave me a comment. -dg-

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