Are we too judgmental of ourselves and others?

For Michael, a defining moment in his life comes on the Fourth of July when he is just seven years old. The event changes him forever and he will not see his parents for almost two decades.

Skip forward to when Michael is 19, and he walks into a lecture hall for his third college class, filmmaking. He glances at the middle-aged man—his professor—sitting at the table at the front of the room. Michael tries not to stare, but he soon realizes his eyes reveal a path to a new future.

At first glance, Michael is the perfect physical specimen of a young man, but he has learned to conceal what he thinks is his gross imperfection. The man at the table, with whom Michael immediately shares a bond unlike any other, guides Michael toward a new life, one absent of apologies.

What’s wrong with Michael? Or is the correct answer “Nothing!”

In Michael Without Apology, Catherine Ryan Hyde weaves a powerful story that connects us all to Michael. And maybe to the realization that will guide us to stop apologizing—to ourselves and to the world.

This book invites readers to ask themselves, “In the end, shouldn’t we be proud to be ourselves?”

Table for two. A charming aspect of distance walking in Italy is the vast variety of places we call home for a night. This dining room in a stately home in the lakeside village of Bolsena offered an omelet, yogurt, granola, jams, juice, fresh bread, coffee, and more. We felt like royalty! Our en suite bathroom was about the size of a bedroom.

Before we walked out of Tuscany, a Dutch trekker snapped this trailside photo.

What to do? The guidebook warned us that the last several miles of the Via Francigena on the way to Acquapendente “treacherously” traveled on a busy highway and it advised taking a bus from Centeno, a tiny enclave of homes.

As we took in the crazy scene of speeding (60 mph-plus) trucks, cars, and motorcycles on a narrow road with NO space for walkers, we split off into Centeno, intending to take the bus. Then this fast-talking Italian emerged from his home. We understood not a word he said, but he pointed to his car, then to himself and to us, and finally pantomimed holding a steering wheel.

As he sped us toward Acquapendente, our view of the highway trail confirmed that we had made a decision for our survival by avoiding walking on the road. He dropped us at the village piazza (above).

During our more than 2,300 miles of distance trekking, the stretch of highway/trail easily wins the prize for most dangerous. The ride was well worth 20 euro, and we got the feeling that our driver regularly rescues Francigena pilgrims.