We all own our individual sets of memories: good ones, horrible ones, and those which still take our breath away.
When I think of the Gulf Coast wave that knocked off the top of my bathingsuit when I was in high school, I still gasp for breath.
Or when I recall the time in New York City, while traveling with two girlfriends, when we were approached by a homeless man, I gasp again. Unable to hail a t…
