When my daughter Heidi was twelve and Dena was nine, I took them on a ten-day trip to Germany and Austria. Only three years had passed since I began a tradition of taking each of my children on annual one-on-one trips—a wonderful way for a busy executive to bond more deeply with each of them.
Most of our adventures had an educational element—historic cities, national parks, or cultural landmarks. But since Europe was such a significant destination, I took both girls together. They were thrilled.
On the flight over, I gave them an assignment.
“Assignment?” asked Heidi.
“Yes,” I answered. “The theme of this trip is ‘Cultural Differences.’ I want you both to observe how European life differs from life in the U.S. Every night, you’ll record your observations in a journal.”
They took to the task with enthusiasm, noting how prevalent cigarette smoking was, how dogs sat at their owners’ tables in restaurants, and how shopkeepers placed change on the counter rather than handing it directly to customers. But one difference stood out: nudity—in ads, on beaches, and even at hotel pools.
One morning we drove from Munich to Salzburg. The girls had been begging to swim when we arrived, but I was focused on Salzburg’s rich history—cathedrals, museums, music. Frustrated, I snapped, “Girls! There are thousands of years of history out there, and I don’t want to waste my time sitting next to a swimming pool!”
Still, their persistence wore me down. Shortly after check-in, they put on swimsuits, I grabbed a book, and we headed for the indoor pool.
At the pool entrance, the girls climbed a few stairs—and encountered two young men, completely naked, descending toward them. I was shocked. Judging by their expressions, so were they. But without a word, they jumped into the pool and played. The men left, and I relaxed.
Moments later, the sauna door beside me burst open—and out ran three young women, also naked. It was the first time I had seen female nudity in public, and I must admit I was intrigued. It gave me a whole new perspective on poolside reading and a deeper appreciation for these cultural differences.
Unfazed, the women jumped into the pool, joining my daughters. Unlike the earlier encounter with the men, this time the nudity was too much for Heidi and Dena. They swam over and pleaded, “Daddy, let’s get out of here!”
I paused, teasing, “Hold on just a minute! I thought you wanted to swim, and besides, my book is just starting to get interesting!”
Heidi, catching my playful tone, shot back, “But, Dad, there’s thousands of years of history out there!”
Despite this memorable moment, the trip was spectacular. We enjoyed Salzburg’s rich offerings and even found time for more swims—yes, with more nudity.
Back home, the story became a favorite among family and friends, though I didn’t realize just how legendary it had become—until years later.
When my youngest son, Corey, was ten, I planned to take him on a fishing trip to Alaska. But a major business deal forced me to cancel. Tucking him in that night, I tried to soften the blow.
“But later this summer,” I promised, “when this deal is finished, I’ll take you to Europe.”
He was nearly asleep under his blankets, so I was shocked by what happened next. He threw off the covers, jumped out of bed, clenched his fists, and yelled, “YES!”
“Corey,” I said, startled, “I thought you’d be disappointed.”
Looking up with wide eyes, he asked, “Dad, when we go there; can we go swimming?”
Even at ten, Corey clearly remembered what the girls and I had seen poolside. Though pleased he’d retained something from the educational theme of those trips, I realized before our next journey I’d need to give him a broader explanation of what “cultural differences” truly means.