After 30 years as a world journalist Frederick decided it was time to retire. The gift he gave his self was a year-long trip around the world. After years of covering wars in some of the worst places in the world, Frederick wanted to see the beauty that work had never given him the opportunity to observe. He decided on twelve locations. One month for each place would allow him ample time to really enjoy what each site had to offer.
Not sure how to pick the order of travel, he placed a paper on the wall and with all the twelve places listed. Gross as he knew it was, it wadded up chewing gum and threw it at the names. One by one he decided the order of his year-long trip. Then the harder decision: which month would be his first month. So once again paper and gum were the deciding factors. Ironically the first month chosen was September, which was his birthday month.
His visit would be September in Australia, October in Tanzania, November in Indonesia, December in Costa Rica, January in Spain, February in Thailand, March in Dubai, April in Tahiti, May in St. Lucia, June in Denmark, July in Prague and August in Greece. His daughters saw his list and were amused when they learned the way he had decided the place and the month.
Three months and one week into Indonesia, Frederick debated on leaving the hotel for dinner or just eating in the hotel restaurant. He had eaten in the hotel for most of the week. As he made the decision to leave he felt the floor move beneath his feet. Then the items on the desk slid to the floor. His brain registered earthquake before his body could react. He watched the wall of the hotel crumble, and that was the last he remembered until he woke a month later in the hospital. His oldest daughter had come over to see about him. His body was still in the process of recovering. The right side of his body had been smashed under a wall. His lung had been punctured, and he had a broken arm and leg on his right. It would be three months before he was able to travel back to the states.
During his recovery, Frederick thought about the irony of life and his life in particular. He had been in many war zones and never got a scratch. He had visited many places after earthquakes to report on the aftermath, but now retired he had encountered an earthquake and fully understood more than merely writing about the quakes. Once back in St. Louis, Frederick had to learn how to walk and write after months in a cast and also in a bed. The gift he received was his children, the same children he thought he would never have a relationship with. Much like his schedule to travel, his children each took a month and stayed with him. The children he left behind so many years before were now adults, and they rallied when he needed them. Yes, for him irony was definitely at work in his life.