ABSTRACT
In the summer of 1968, I visited Europe as a young girl from Texas.1 It was a trans-
formative journey in which I caught a seductive glimpse of what it means to have
traveled. When I recall that trip, I see images, I hear sounds, I remember words, expe-
riences, smells, and textures-many languages with which to communicate what I
learned. Sensing (and fearing) that memories fade, I came home that summer deter-
mined to return, and so I studied German in high school, after which I earned a Bach-
elor’s degree in German at a university near my home in Texas. I wanted to acquire
a language to keep my memories alive and to form the conditions of possibility for
my return. I wanted a language to speak me into being there, into being, again.