The attendant on the Chicago-to-Copenhagen flight looked from my father and sister on one side of the aisle to me on the other. "I like that. I really like that," she said with a broad smile, as we explained the circumstances of our trip. What she liked, perhaps, was that we were adult siblings vacationing with an elderly parent. Did I say "adult" and "elderly"? At 57, 61 and 92, we three were 210 years old! But we were a young 210, off on a long-planned and anticipated adventure. This was our first visit to Scandinavia for a sort of father-daughter pilgrimage. We were taking a sentimental journey to Denmark, the birthplace of my maternal grandparents.
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