Written Bliss

Letter writing is an old fashioned habit that’s having a tough time competing with the instant satisfaction available from email and text messaging. However, for people who grew up receiving real letters and cards while away from home, there will always be a place for the old fashioned letter.

Every so often I will open a drawer and find a letter from my grandmother who died over 15 years ago. I’ll stop, read the letter, and remember who I was when the letter was written. In the days before email brought us instant communication, people wrote letters when they wanted to communicate and those letters were a tactile reminder that someone out there cared enough to sit down and write me a letter. I probably wasn’t as good of a correspondent as my grandmother would have liked, but she saved all my letters along with everyone else’s. After she passed away, we found a box filled with letters she’d received from her family and reading those letters was like reading a history of our family. There were letters from my mother right after I was born talking about the cute things I was doing, there were letters from my aunts detailing the goings on in their lives, there were letters from me as a child, and there were letters I wrote from college. The college letters were carefully sanitized so that grandma didn’t know all the trouble her little darling was getting into, but there were stories about my classmates and teachers that I’d forgotten.

Letters are a way to share our lives with those we love and to let people know that we’re thinking of them. Right before my Uncle Gene died, I sent him and my Aunt Ethel a postcard from Mt. Fuji to let them know I was thinking of them and to share the joy I was feeling about seeing one of the most spiritual places on earth. A few days after the funeral, my mom called to tell me that my Aunt had gotten my postcard and that it meant a lot to her to know that I’d been thinking of her and my uncle even while I was visiting Japan. Right then and there I decided that I’d make as much of an effort as possible to put my thoughts in writing and let my family and friends know how much I love them and that I was thinking of them.

I sent a lot of cards and letters when my dad was sick in the hospital, including one where I’d taken a picture of his dog Blue, put it on a card, and then written a letter from Blue’s perspective. My dad thought that was the most wonderful card that he’d ever gotten and it followed him from hospital room to hospital room. I wasn’t able to spend as much time as I would have liked with my dad before he died, but knowing I was able to bring him joy via cards and letters helped ease my guilt over not being by his bedside.

The letters I sent my mom right after my dad died–and keep sending–helped keep her going in those dark days when she was coming to grips with the fact that the man she’d shared 44 years of her life with was no longer by her side. The letters weren’t all long, in fact most of them were just a quick note card, but they made her realize that she was loved and that people cared about her. I tried to send note cards that I knew would mean something to her. For instance, I sent a card with eagles along with a note that said my dad was still watching over her. He’d loved to go out along the Mississippi and watch the eagles in the days before he died.

One of my blissmakers was to send cards to people I care about and I spent some time this afternoon at my desk writing cards to people I love. I sent a card to my mom with a quote about how inspiring art is because she starts her first art class in a few days, I sent a note to my childhood best friend reminding her of the love and laughter we shared hanging out at her grandmother’s, and I sent a note to my husband with a picture of “his building” downtown Chicago and a note that I was so proud of him for achieving his dream of living in the burbs and working downtown. It didn’t take me more than an hour to write three heartfelt notes, but I know that the joy they will bring to their recipients will brighten their entire day.

My kids think it is tremendously silly that I go to the trouble and expense to mail them and their dad cards when I could just give them the cards. However, I know the joy that comes from opening the mail box and finding a real live card and I’m hoping that someday they’ll find a note from me stuck in a book or a drawer and they’ll know that someone took the time to write them a note to let them know they were loved.

Ignorance is Bliss

When I think about the places I have experienced most deeply in my life, I come to the realization that the places where I’ve felt the most bliss have been places where I haven’t spoke the language, but places where I’ve had to just experience with no words to guide me. That’s an interesting realization for someone who has always been passionate about the written and spoken word.

My first experience as a traveling illiterate was the three years I spent on Okinawa. We lived on Kadena, Air Base so as long as I stayed on base, I was surrounded by the English language and never had to learn to speak Japanese. Parts of my three years there were magickal as I was able to walk the streets of Okinawa and observe the many cultures that shared the island. One magickal trip was to Naha City where I learned how Okinawa lacquer-ware, Japanese dolls, and sake were made. It was incredibly to get to experience the shapes, the colors, and the smells unencumbered by my monkey mind which would have snobbishly insisted that all that was to be learned could be learned through words. Instead, I had to watch the lacquer-ware being made to see how it was baked and colored. I had to watch the dollmakers using pins and ribbons to fashion dolls. I had to smell and taste the sake versus just reading about it.
My first solo trip to Toyko I ventured downtown alone. I had a map written in English that I was trying to compare to street signs written in Japanese. It was an amazing adventure as I found my way to the Ginza and gawked and gaped at the expensive shops and took in the smells of food cooking on street corners. I wasn’t feeling so excited to not speak the language when I took the wrong exit on the subway and ended up in a strange part of town with no clue where I was and no one around who spoke English. Luckily, I found my way to an embassy that had a sign in English and that same Embassy was also marked on my map so with just a little bit of trial and error I was able to find my way back to my hotel.

Although there were many signs in English in China, it was still an experience to wander the streets and hear a language that was not my own. I focused on the experiences and the places and not on the written word. Not wanting to miss a minute of our time in China, every night after work my friends and I would wander around town. We’d walk to the “little dark alley” where the best bargains were to be found and wonder at the treasures displayed before our eyes. There were silks and purses, bottles and carvings. It was a treasure trove of things to explore and purchase for our friends and family at home.

One night we went out to “Hot Pot” and enjoyed the experience of cooking our food in boiling broth at the table. Despite loving Chinese food, I had never experienced potstickers until that dinner and every time I eat them now, I’m reminded of my trip to Suzhou. The other food I learned to love in China was egg tarts, they are the most fantastical food full of a golden custard. Egg tarts had their own fan club at my former company and when we all got together we would reminisce about the egg tarts. Not all the food I had in China was quite so yummy, one night we went out for authentic Chinese food and we ate duck’s feet, cow’s stomachs, and pig’s ears. I didn’t enjoy any of it, but I was a good sport and tried it all.

I spent plenty of time in Germany as a traveling illiterate and I always felt slightly embarrassed when so many people went out of their way to speak English for me when I hadn’t learned any German. My friends and I had many wonderful times walking around Bremen exploring the sights and sounds and drinking in the local culture–and the local beer. On my last trip, I was fortunate enough to go to a German carnival and I got to wander around and explore and watch the kids riding the rides and eating cotton candy and the grownups watching indulgently. Hmmm doesn’t sound very much different than what we do in the states does it? That’s one of the most important lessons I’ve learned as a traveling illiterate: that underneath it all we’re all humans with pretty much the same hopes, dreams, and fears. We all want our children to grow up safe and sound, we all want to live in a peaceful world, and we all want a comfortable life.

One memorable trip as a traveling illiterate was the Saturday that I drove from Germany into Denmark. Driving a BMW down the autobahn was an experience in and off itself, but I was so
disappointed when I got to Kolding and realized that the town–including Kolding Castle– shut down at 2 pm. Not wanting my trip to have been in vain, I parked and wandered around the outside of the castle and thought about what life would have been like in the middle of the 13th Century when the castle was built. My romantic mind tells me it would have been wondrous to have lived in a castle and been surrounded by the finest things of the time. However, my more practical mind realizes I’m way too attached to central air and indoor plumbing to have really enjoyed myself.

 

Although part of me thinks I would have learned more if I would have learned the languages of the countries I visited, another part of me thinks that not learning the language forced me to have to rely on sights and sounds to explore the country and not just on what the words told me about the country.Despite the “handicap” of knowing English, some days I try really hard to be a traveling illiterate in my own country and really pay attention to what is happening and not just the words that are telling me what is happening. Instead of reading the signs about the animals at the zoo, I’ll actually watch the animals; instead of listening to the commentator talk about sports, I’ll watch the game. I can’t guarantee I’ll learn more, but I bet I’ll have a richer experience.

Pet Bliss

The sun is streaming in the bedroom window and I sense more than feel the brown eyes looking at me with adoration. I feel the bed move as my bed mate stands on his hind feet to look out the bedroom window. It’s the tail swatting me in the face that finally does it and I’m fully awake, a full 20 minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off. I roll my eyes in wonder that anyone can wake up so fully ready to meet the day.
I did sneak a peek at his “Dog Timer” and he does have a pretty full schedule so I guess he doesn’t want to miss a minute of it. The entries in his to do list include:
  • Lay at the top of the stairs and watch the front door
  • Eat
  • Rush to the window to bark at the dog walking by
  • Bark at the squirrels
  • Eat
  • Sleep on mom’s bed
  • Walk a patrol around the house to make sure nothing is out of place
  • Eat
  • Sleep on the couch
  • Look out the window

Lucky for me, Luke is always up for a morning snuggle before we actually start the day. He crawls up next to me and pushes his head underneath my hand so that I’ll pet him. I stroke his fur and feel a calmness flow through my entire body as I realize that at this moment in time, I don’t care about anything except feeling Luke’s soft rust and white fur beneath my fingers as I gently stroke him. I rub his ears and he rolls over, obviously wanting me to rub his belly before we get up and face the day. A few good rubs and he’s out of bed and walking over to the door, looking at me to tell me I need to open the door. I get out of bed and we both start our day.

Luke’s always on hand to meet me at the end of the day and I look forward to our evening snuggle time just as much as our morning snuggles. After dinner, I’ll sit downstairs with hubby and the kids reading or watching TV and Luke always snuggles up next to me. Sometimes he’s content just to sit there and other times, he’s more demanding and clearly expresses his desire to be petted.

There’s a deep sense of calm that envelops both of us whenever I pet my sweet dog. As I stroke his soft and silky fur, I feel him relax beneath my fingers and I feel calmness and a deep sense of bliss envelop me. Amazing, how such a little thing can make all right in two creatures’ worlds.

Lessons in Balance

My dad died last November and I miss him tremendously. He was one of the greatest men I know and I’d like to share his eulogy with you so that you’ll get a sense of who he was and why I am who I am and some of the lessons I’ve learned that help bring me back to balance.

How do you say goodbye to a man who loved you before you were even born? To a man who dried your tears, taught you to drive, and taught you to be true to yourself? The only suitable tribute is to share the lessons I learned at his knee and to strive to live up to his expectations.

Before I share the lessons I learned from my dad, I’d like to set the stage by sharing a few facts. Leonard J. Collins was born to Thursa Aud Collins and Leonard Chester Collins on December 30, 1935. He came home to two older brothers who he adored. When my dad was three, his father died and his mother moved her family to Poplar Bluff, Missouri, where my dad would grow up without much money, but surrounded by the love of his extended family. I look back at the photos of my dad growing up and in most of them he’s surrounded by “the boys” as he and his cousins were known. When my dad told stories about growing up, he glossed over the fact that his family was dirt poor and instead focused on the lighter side of life like the neighborhood dog, the swimming hole, and running around with his cousins.

My father married my mom, Charlene Babcock, on February 20, 1965. I came along in 1966 and my brother in 1970. My dad worked for General Mills for 29 years before retiring in 1994. He kept in touch with the friends he made at General Mills up his very last day on earth. My parents moved to Mount Carroll a few years after my dad’s retirement where they become beloved members of the community and made friendships that have helped my mother weather the last two weeks.

Those are the simple and stark facts, but they don’t begin to tell you who my daddy was. My dad was a great and powerful man. He would disagree with that assessment as he saw himself as a simple, humble man who loved his family and did the best that he could. His greatness came from his modesty, from his willingness to help his fellow man, from his love of animals, and his willingness to sacrifice for those he loved. His power was not the flashy power of a performer, the practiced polish of a politician, or the power that money brings. Instead his power was love and like the power of water, it surrounded you, embraced you, and made you better. Lao-Tzu stated: In the world there is nothing more submissive and weak than water. Yet for attacking that which is hard and strong nothing can surpass it. That was my father’s power. He changed you by setting an example and by living his life the best way he knew how. He didn’t preach, he rarely lectured and he didn’t threaten, he simply led by example.

Here are the lessons I’ve learned from my father.

Sacrifice to provide for your family

My father worked seven days a week most weeks to provide for my brother, mother, and me. He was gone before I got up in the morning and came home tired and exhausted and in need of a nap. At the time, I never questioned the fact that my dad wasn’t home on weekends like other kids’ dads and assumed he worked because he wanted to. Now that I’m grown up and making similar sacrifices, I realize that there’s nothing he would have wanted more than to spend time with my brother and I, but that he realized the need to sacrifice himself to provide for us.

Money can’t buy love, but sacrificing yourself to provide for your family is one of the truest acts of devotion

Do Your Best

When I’d bring home a B, my father always asked why it wasn’t an A. At the time, I thought his expectations were unrealistic, but since I’ve became a parent, I’ve realized that he knew I could do better and that by challenging me, I would do better.

My dad firmly believed in an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay and he always made that fair exchange. He taught me to go the extra mile and to do my best because I was the one that would know if I hadn’t. He knew eventually I’d have to answer to myself and hoped that by prodding me to do better, I’d learn to prod myself.

Little things matter

Despite having a dad who worked seven days a week; I never felt like I missed out on his time or attention and I always knew that my brother and I mattered to him. I look back at pictures of my childhood and my dad was always at school plays, parent teacher conferences, and all the other events that fill a child’s life.

I know there were also a lot of nights when he came home and despite being tired from work, he would give in to my whining to go to the park, to go to the mall, go for ice cream, or to go walk around O’hare.

During the summer, we’d meet my dad for lunch or we’d go for ice cream after work and I always knew that he was there for me.

Catch them Being Good

When I was growing up, I always thought it was lame when my parents bragged about me and my brother. I’ve since learned that it’s a parent’s prerogative to brag about their kids and that all that bragging made me want to live up to my parents’ expectations.

It’s funny that the compliments my dad paid me behind my back meant as much or more than the ones he gave to my face. I’ll never forget walking into my dad’s hospital room in Iowa City and having the nurse say, “Oh, you must be his daughter who’s managing that big project in Georgia. Your dad’s really proud of you.” Despite how sick he was, he’d also managed to tell the nurse all about his wonderful son and his grandchildren.

Take care of others

My dad didn’t have much time for volunteering when I was growing up, but when he and my mom retired, they both spent time volunteering at Good Sam’s and helping out those who couldn’t help themselves. I always thought it was so funny to hear my parents, who were retired themselves talk about helping out the “old people.”

Despite living hundreds of miles away from his mamma, he always made time to visit her several times a year and to make sure she visited us. I have many happy memories of driving down to Poplar Bluff to visit my grandma.

Experience Life

I visited DeKalb, IL a few years ago and got to talking to the clerk at the gas station. I was shocked to learn that she’d never been to Chicago and that she’d never really traveled more than 20 miles from where she was born. I felt sorry for her as my parent made sure that my brother and I experienced as much life as possible. We traveled every summer, to Florida, to Colorado, to Texas, to Gettysburg, and to a host of other places. We even visited East St. Louis and the South Side of Chicago a few times, but I don’t think those trips were planned.

At each of those places, my parents made sure that we learned something. In Mobile, AL, we visited a battleship and learned about life at sea. In Gettysburg, we visited battlefields. At Mount Rushmore, we learned about our past and experienced a thrill of patriotism when we sang the national anthem and watched the lights flash across the faces of four of our most famous presidents.

My parents also worked hard to teach my kids about life and my dad liked nothing better than to take Sean and Caitlin to the Lock and Dam to watch the boats or to see the eagles, to local museums, to the zoo, and to other places where the kids could experience life and grandma and grandpa could experience the joy of being grandparents.

Forgive Others

My daddy was a man who believed in forgiveness and I experienced that forgiveness first hand. The first day I got my learner’s permit, my daddy took me driving and I drove into a ditch and wrecked the car. My daddy never held it against me. He just came home, we reported it to insurance and that was the end of it until my son turned 16. Then my dad and mom both had tell Sean the story of when his mom started driving and implore me to show him the same grace that I was shown.

My father’s forgiveness also extended to animals. We took my dog Luke out to visit my parents last summer and the first thing Luke did was to bite my dad’s dog Blue. My father was upset, but he forgave Luke and always looked forward to seeing him….as long as it was at my house.

Honor Your Elders

My brother and I were taught as children that our friends’ parents were Mr. and Mrs. not Jane and Bob. That we should open the doors for our elders and we should always give up the seat on the bus to someone older than ourselves. Those things mattered to my father and as such, they matter to me.

No elders were to be more honored than parents. Those of you who knew my grandmother Elaine knew that she was not always the easiest woman to be around. I once asked my daddy why he was so patient with her and he responded that that she was my mom’s mother and she deserved respect. And anytime I complained about her, he reiterated that I was to treat my grandmother with respect no matter what.

Love animals

Animals always held a special place in my daddy’s life. No trip to St. Louis was complete without a trip to the zoo and our home was never without a dog and my dad embraced most of the dog’s that I brought into my life.

One dog that my father had that my brother and I considered a questionable choice was Gizmo. Gizmo was a little yippy dog who was always begging. My parents had inherited Gizmo and once when I asked my dad how he could love Gizmo, he looked at me and said, “Because no one else does.” I learned a powerful lesson that day and I’ve tried very hard to be a little less judgemental.

My dad came by his love of animals naturally. I remember being at my grandmother’s once and she was complaining about this big old Tom cat that kept hanging around her house. My dad looked at her and said, “Well, Mom, he wouldn’t hang around if you didn’t put food out for him every day.’

Blue, my dad’s most recent dog, also benefited from my dad’s love. Blue came to my parents as an abused and abandoned dog about 13 years ago. When he first came into my parent’s lives, he wouldn’t let anyone pet his face and he shied away from most people. After a year or so living at my parents and being loved unconditionally by my dad, Blue became a lot friendlier and learned to love having his ears scratched.

Embrace your family

Family always mattered to my dad. He was close to his brothers and cousins and always made sure that my brother and I knew we had a family we belonged to. Although he wasn’t able to replicate the wild times he had running with “the boys,” he and my mother made sure we spent time with our extended families on both sides. We saw our cousins on my mom’s side regularly and several times a year, we’d head down to Poplar Bluff, Missouri to spend time with my father’s family.

Those were cherished times as we roamed the same streets my dad had roamed as a child, visited the store where he bought his soda pop, and visited our cousins and great aunts. Once a year was the big family reunion when we got spent time with the Easons, the Paytons, the Auds, and the Collins. I was never sure exactly who belonged to who, but I always knew I belonged because I was Junior’s daughter.

Family to my dad wasn’t only the people related to you by blood. My father drew people to him with his smile, his faith, and his loving spirit. As I look around the room, I see people my father knew for over forty years, people who he knew from General Mills and, no less cherished, people my parents met after they moved to Mount Carroll.

I know my father cherished all of your friendships and you were all an important part of his life.

Never be afraid to say I love you

I spent my 21st birthday at my Grandmother Collins’ bedside. She was critically ill and all the brothers had been called home to see her. That day was immensely hard as I watched my daddy cry and tell his mamma he loved her.

That day he told me to never be afraid to tell people you love them and to do it often so you never have to worry about someone leaving you without them knowing you loved them.

That’s a lesson I’ve taken to heart and I always make sure those I care about know how I feel.

In honor of my daddy, I’d like you all to turn to someone you love and let them know.

Bliss Theater

How long has it been since you had a real live date with your significant other? Unfortunately, most of us can’t hop on Air Force One and fly to Broadway to take in a show so date night becomes yet another casualty of uber busy lives and ultra slim wallets. It takes a real effort to decide that after a day of working–either around the house or in the office–that you’re going to get up, get dressed, and go out to impress someone you’re already involved with. But let me tell you it’s worth the effort.

Hubby and I went out on a real live date tonight for the first time in about six months. The Arlington Theater runs a special on Mondays and Tuesdays where for $28 you get two tickets to a movie and dinner at a local restaurant. We decided that we couldn’t beat the price and that it was about time we spent some time together as grownups instead of just Mom and Dad. We didn’t dress up for our date, but it was nice to leave the house together knowing that we weren’t just running errands.

Dinner was at Harry’s in downtown Arlington Heights and the food wasn’t fancy, just bar burgers and tater tots, but we were out alone and got to enjoy talking to each other about things we were interested in instead of hearing about the latest “tragedy” to befall our daughter or about the latest video game our son was playing. We got to talk about current events, about work, and just be together.

After dinner, we strolled downtown Arlington Heights and even spent some time wandering around Yankee Candle smelling all the scented candles. We even brought home a few lilac candles to fill our house with the blissful smell of lilacs long after our lilac bush stopped blooming.

We got to the theater early and easily found seats in the relatively empty theater. We talked and chatted some more while we wanted for the movie to start. We even enjoyed sitting through the previews and identified a few more movies we’d like to see. Then it was showtime and we settled in to watch Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian. There was no high drama to be had as our Larry the night watchman teamed with Amelia Earhart to defeat an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh bent on world domination. I won’t give away the plot, but it was campy and fun and a good way to spend a few hours.

Most of all Hubby and I got to hold hands and enjoy being together. Definitely worth the $28 we paid to escape to Bliss Theater.

Bliss and Loss

My daddy died last year and in March we took his cremains down to Alton, IL to be buried next to his father. The first thing that struck me as I looked from my Daddy’s tombstone to his father’s was that my Daddy had lived a full life while my grandfather had been shortchanged.
My grandpa died when my daddy was three years old so my daddy was cheated out of a father growing up. I’d always known that, just as I knew that daddy had grown up poor. I’d always been amazed at what a wonderful father my dad was despite not having a father of his own.
What I hadn’t realized until I stood in front of my granddad’s tombstone was that he’d been 32 years old when he died, ten years younger than I was as I stood there. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of sadness for a man I’d never known. He’d died before he started to live. He never knew the wonderful children he’d helped to create or their grandchildren. He hadn’t gotten to grow old with my grandmother.
He hadn’t gotten to meet my Uncle Gene, the oldest, who’d served in the war, married a woman named Ethel, and had a daughter, Becky. He never saw the wonderful and gentle man that my uncle grew up to be who after his own grandchildren died in infancy, delighted in babysitting my son Sean and bouncing him on his knee.
He didn’t get to meet my Uncle Jerry who went to war and came back a changed man. Uncle Jerry’s first wife died of brain cancer after giving him two wonderful kids, my cousins Jim and Rhonda. He never got to know Jerry’s second wife, Mary, or get to know my favorite cousin Mark Lynn my partner in crime when it came to tormenting my brother Tony.
He never got to meet my daddy who was the most wonderful father a girl could have. He didn’t get to watch my daddy grow into a gentle and loving man who worked hard, loved his family, and inspired those around him. He didn’t get to meet my mama, Charlene, who loved my dad with all her heart. And he didn’t get to meet me and my brother or my beautiful children.
An overwhelming sadness hit me as I cried for a man who I’d never met, but whose blood ran through my veins. He’d been cheated out of the rich full life that my father had lived and I realized that although I’d always miss my dad, he’d lived a rich and full life and despite my despair, I experied a deep sense of bliss as I realized my dad had raised two responsible kids,
gotten to know and love his grandchildren, and got to spend his life with the woman he loved. He’d also left a legacy of love behind him and he’d change the lives of a lot of people.