As a student living a transient military lifestyle, Ive had the good fortune to experience life in a variety of cultures. The experience I have gained by festering up abroad in such places as England and Germany has had noteworthy effects on my dreams and aspirations. Yet, one place my family has lived stands out in my mind as having the greatest impact: crewman.
The Isthmus of Panama extends as a land bridge connecting the 2 Americas. Its urban center is Panama City, where we would join half the nations inhabitants in make our home. Although we spent just over two years in Panama, my time there was a profound experience. Prior to Panama, I had led a sheltered existence, ignorant of any former(a) way of life. I knew nothing of life in a third world country. The isthmus may connect these two worlds physically, but they could not be further apart in the way life is lived.
My father, who had arrived two months earlier, was at the airport to encounter my mother and me. After our separation I was ecstatic to give ear Dad once again. On the way to our new home, I slowly recoiled from this raise of contentment. I glanced out the window as we approached the city, wrapped in a hazy blanket of smog.
I felt my spirits begin to change, falling from the elevated state of just minutes before.
        The climate only deteriorated as I saw the city loom before us. While stop for traffic, a young boy approached the car. I strained my four-foot image to catch a glimpse of this strange boy by dint of the back seat window. Sitting up undecomposedy, I could and then see clearly his makeshift crutch. His support was propped under his remaining arm and held the weight that he...
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