My high school German trip has been forever emblazoned in my memory first because it was so much fun and second because as the memory of the fun began to fade the memory or rather my guilt over Mr. Martin's loss began to grow. Imagine a bunch of 16 year olds happily shopping the tourist shops of Oberammergau when we are faced with a choice: extend our shopping trip or visit a church. Not just a church Mr. Martin pleads but "the finest example of Rococo architecture in the world." That phrase has never left me. Never. Especially not after I started my college art classes and began to think about what the experience of seeing the "finest example of Rococo architecture in the world" might be like. Anyway, as you might guess, we teenagers chose to stay and shop. Mr. Martin was distraught. And the older I get the more guiltily I remember that day. Hopefully Mr. Martin got to see the church on a future trip. It's taken me more than a quarter of a century to get back around to it. And wow! It was nothing like I expected. I expected dark and heavy but this was more like an enormous frosted cake.
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