Bliss Tea

My love affair with tea began in China. Before I ventured to the land where tea was born, I thought of tea as a weak drink for old ladies, but China changed that and I realized that tea was a vestige of civility and calm. The first weekend I was in Suzhou, we wandered downtown and into a little tea shop that was filled with clear canisters of all sorts of tea. I still wasn’t sure I’d enjoy “real” tea so I hedged my bets and bought rose petal tea which when brewed was amazing. The sweet scent of roses reminded me of a beautiful spring day and the delicate taste wasn’t the weak and wimpy tea from teabags I remembered from my youth, but a taste of summer that made me want more.
Wandering the streets of Suzhou, I happened upon a store selling beautiful pottery tea pots and I bought a tea pot with a dragon head to remind me of the beautiful time I spent in Suzhou. Another store had a tea pot with a dragon swirling around it and it to had to come home with me.
One of my last nights in Suzhou, we were wandering downtown and I spied this beautiful delicate porcelain tea set that I knew I had to have. It was a beautiful and delicate blue with green swirls and a beautiful golden dragon swirled around it’s base. I had seem a similar one in purple that had been out of my price range so it was with bated breath that I asked the price of the blue tea set. The lady wouldn’t bargain with us at first and asked us instead to sit down and have a cup of tea with her and her family. She made us Chinese flower tea with a jasmine blossom that bloomed when hot water was poured over it. That was the moment I fell in love with tea as I realized the beauty and majesty that could surround it. That was the most delightful cup of tea I ever enjoyed as I sat at that little shop in Suzhou and drank tea with strangers and friends. I did end up buying the beautiful tea set and after the gracious hospitality, I didn’t have the heart to bargain much.
Amsterdam also taught me about tea as I found this beautiful little shop selling all sorts of herbal teas and tea accessories. I bought the most magickal tea in this little shop a blend of apples and rose hips that was pure magic to drink. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find anything similar in the states so until I make it back to Amsterdam, I won’t be able to enjoy that blissful tea again.
My current favorite tea is Caribbean Breeze by Teavana. It is a blend of strawberry and raspberry pieces with bits of kiwi passion fruit and citrus peel thrown in for good measure. This morning, I brewed a cup of Caribbean Breeze in my Chinese tea pot and sat outside enjoying the warm weather and the breeze. It was very blissful to sit under my magnolia tree, Maggie, and listen to the sounds of summer. I heard the birds chirping, the kids playing ball across the street, and someone mowing the yard a few houses down. The warm sun was tempered by a slight breeze and I felt like in this moment in time, I truly knew bliss.

Balancing Fatherhood

This will be my first father’s day without my dad and it’s made me realize how fortunate I am to have had a father for all of my childhood and well into my adult life. It’s also made me stop and think how different a father my husband is than my dad was.

My dad was a typical dad of the 60s and 70s who was the primary breadwinner while my mom took care of the kids and the house. But that’s not to say that my dad wasn’t involved in our lives. He was at every school function, vacations were spent with the kids, and he was home for dinner every night. I adored my dad and I know that he truly wanted what was best for me.

However, in retrospect, I’m able to realize that despite my dad’s pride in my talents and grades, he was still enough of a chauvinist to think that women shouldn’t compete with men for jobs. I remember talking to my dad about a woman applying to be a director at a company I was working for and he promptly lectured me about why women shouldn’t apply for those jobs because if she got it, she’d be taking it away from a man with a family to support. I couldn’t believe that in the 1980’s, my dad still held such old fashioned beliefs. Even though I was in my late 20s at the time, it was still a bitter pill to swallow to realize that the dad I idolized wasn’t perfect.

The funny thing about my dad is that his ideals about women taking a backseat to men never seemed to apply to me and he was always proud of my successes. Even when he was in his last few months of life in a hospital in Iowa, he was bragging to his nurses about his little girl’s career successes. I’ve long since forgiven my father for that comment as I realize he was a product of a generation where men were breadwinners and women were homemakers.

I’m truly fortunate that I married a modern man who takes great pride in taking care of our kids. When our kids were young, he was the one that stayed home with them and changed all their diapers and made sure they had their bottles. Twenty years ago he was an oddity and it was made even worse by the fact that we spent the first three years of our son’s life living on an Air Force base on Okinawa, where as a stay at home dad he was a social outcast. He valiantly took our son to play groups even when he was left sitting on a bench alone while the women gossiped about what kind of man would let his wife be the breadwinner.

That hurt my husband tremendously, but he loved our son enough to keep going to those playgroups so our son would get to play with other kids. He also loved me enough to support my career because he knew it made me happy. That’s not to say that life was perfect and that we never argued, but he always put our kids’ well being above his own needs.

Unfortunately for my husband, he married a stubborn and sometimes selfish woman who never realized until much later the sacrifices and hardships he endured for the sake of our family and how much he sacrificed so that I could live my dream of living in Japan. Until I did a stint at home with the kids when they were in grade school, I never realized how hard it was to juggle kiddie obligations and your own sanity and I had help as we lived by grandma. I honestly don’t know how he managed to do it stuck on a tropical island in the middle of the Pacific with a wife who traveled every month.

So in honor of my husband, my dad, and fathers everywhere, I’d like to say thanks for the time you spend with your kids and the sacrifice you make.

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.

Pedi-Bliss

I’m not a girly girl and I’m always a lot more comfortable in jeans, bare feet, and no makeup than I am dressed to the nines. There’ve been times in my life when I’ve experimented with makeup, but usually that lasts for a few days and then I start sleeping late again and forgetting to put my makeup on before I rush out the door. Manicures and pedicures have always been lumped in with makeup as some frou frou thing that I didn’t really have time for.

That lasted until the time I experienced my first pedicure and realized that I really had been missing out on something. Hubby treated me to a spa day downtown and I had a shea butter wrap, a hot stone massage, a facial, and a pedicure. The hot stone massage was definitely a repeatable experience, the shea butter wrap was an exercise in wasted money, and I was ambivalent on the facial. It was the pedicure that really surprised me. I thought I’d be weirded out by the thought of someone messing with my feet, but it was the best experience of the entire day.

For those of you who haven’t experienced the bliss of a pedicure, let me give you the highlights. The first step is shoes off and feet in a sweet scented massaging foot bath. Now I do have a massaging foot bath at home, but it isn’t quite the same because I know that when I’m done with it, I have to dump it out and put it away. Once you’ve soaked your tired tootsies for a few minutes, the pedicurist will pull one foot out of its nice warm bath and begin using the the pumice stone to smooth away the dead skin and calluses. Once she’s done, she’ll ask you to switch feet and she’ll work on the other one. The next step in the pedicure, is to clean your nails of any old nail polish and to trim your cuticles. Once that’s done, it’s a mini foot massage and a new coat of polish.

The advantage that pedicures have over manicures is that you don’t have to pick nice safe colors that will go with your work clothes. You can play it safe with sweet pinks and subtle lavenders or you can let out your inner bad girl and go for dark reds, blues, greens or even black. Pedicures are like sexy lingerie in that you can choose to share your pedicure by wearing sandals or choose to keep it a secret by wearing closed toed shoes. Pedicures are empowering because every time you look down at your sexy painted toes, you know you care about yourself and that you took the time to do something just for you.

My daughter’s prom was this week and I took her for her first manipedi. We went to a nice little salon close to our house and although there’s no sign on the door that says “Girls Only–Boys Keep out,” walking in is definitely walking into the Girl’s club. We were enveloped in the scent of nice perfume and nail polish when we walked in and by the chatter of feminine voices talking about men, kids, jobs, and anything else that was on their minds.

When it was our turn to bliss out, we climbed into the pedicure chairs, which had been recently enhanced as massage chairs and sunk our feet into the warm water. We let ourselves be pampered for the next hour as the skilled technicians transformed our nails into glorious symbols of femininity. I went for a hardcore pinkish red and my daughter went for the palest of lavenders to match her prom dress.

My daughter wasn’t so sure she liked her experience as she felt uncomfortable with people touching her fingers and toes, but my bet is that she’ll sign up to go the next time. As for me, I left Sunshine Nails in pure bliss feeling comfortable, confident, cared for, and of course blissed out.

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 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.