It should be bigger, don't you think?

I took a business trip to Dallas this past week.

On Sunday, one of my friends in my department had to have a prescription called in to a local CVS. I decided to accompany her in the hotel's Town Car. While she ran in to pick up her purchase, I chatted with the driver. He was an interesting man -- an Ethiopian by birth who moved to the United States in 1980. His daughter is currently studying neurology. He is a shining example of the American Dream -- an African immigrant who makes an honest living in the United States by driving a car for 30 years. His dream is to be realized by his daughter as she wields a scalpel in her talented hands and makes sick brains well again.

Amazing.

I tell this gentleman this is my second trip to Dallas and I've yet to see the city at all, for I work almost the entire time I am on the soil. I ask how far we currently are from Dealey Plaza, the immortal square block where President Kennedy was fatally wounded by a gunshot to the brain in 1963. An American Dream turned nightmare.

He tells me we are less than a mile from the site and kindly offers to drive Danielle (who happens to be the designer of my lovely blog banner) and I there to have a look.

We approach Dealey Plaza from behind. I see the Schoolbook Depository building and instantly count the windows from the ground up and focus on the 6th floor. My eyes follow the 6th floor until we are in the midst of the area.

The grassy knoll. The fence. The triple underpass. It's all there. It is history frozen in time.

Yet it looked so small to me. Almost like is was a replica built to a 60% scale. It was a city block, but in my mind's eye I expected something larger. I suppose it's because any place that could have played such a significant role in changing the course of history should be larger than life. It should exist on a grand scale. It should be bigger, don't you think?

And so after a few moments we drove away. I turned my back on the scene and looked forward as we navigated the Dallas streets. My mind wandered back to the driver's daughter -- the neurologist to be. I wondered if one day she will acquire the skills to save a life that has sustained a gunshot to the brain, as President Kennedy did.

Perhaps her talented hands will one day preserve another American dream.