travel – Page 2 – Cairn by Cairn

Twenty Blisses

I’ve got the Blues again and rather than make you all sit and listen (okay, I know you really don’t listen, but indulge me) to me whine, I figure I’ll do a quick list of 20 Blisses to see if that makes me feel better. A Bliss list is kinda like a gratitude list, but it’s really all about the things that make me feel good and calling it a bliss list lets it be all about self indulgence instead of the things that “I should” be grateful for. So here’s my list of 20 blisses for the day:

My “Together We Can” plaque that was presented to me by the first KUDOS class in the history of the world. Looking at it makes me remember all the fun we had getting together and learning and playing together. It also reminds me of the incredible things I can accomplish when I put my mind to it.

My drawing from Amsterdam that I picked up at the flea market. It reminds me of the beautiful day I spent in Amsterdam cruising the canals, indulging in good food, and seeing Europe.
My wonderful daughter who is so grown up and smart. She’s on her way to DC today for a Journalism Education Association Conference. I’m so proud of how independent and smart she is.
My smart and witty son who is living independently and working very hard to make his way through college.
My loving husband who loves us and is always there for all of us. And who goes out with my friends even when he doesn’t really want to.
Chester and Amedeus, Caitlin’s piggies are adorable and I love the little “wheep wheep” sound that they make. We moved them to the living room while Cat is in Washington, DC and it’s kind of fun to have them down here.
People who believe in me and go to bat for me even when other people are trying to cut me down and keep me from achieving my dreams.

Being able to afford to put our kids through college and send them on excursions like Cat’s trip to DC.
Living in a free country where we can speak our minds, choose the lives and loves we want, pursue happiness.

A beautiful house that keeps us warm in winter and cool in the summer.
Getting to see my buddy Alison today. It always makes me incredibly happy to see her and hang out with her.
the Internet. I know it sounds incredibly shallow, but hanging out on the Internet makes me happy.

The ability to create Websites, write books, and generally be crafty.

Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate…’nuff said.

Old friends and new who are there to listen and be there for me.

Awesome TV shows like Glee that make me laugh and cry at the same time.

Fires in my fireplace that make me feel warm and cozy inside and out.

Luke, my Aussie/Collie mix who is always happy to see me.

The fact that I got the chance to see London and visit the Tower of London and the rest of London’s treasures.

A job. That sounds really lame, but in today’s world I’m happy I have a job to go into that pays the bills.

Despite the crappy start to my day, the fact that I got the opportunity to reset my day to a more blissful ending by taking some time to think about the things that bring me bliss.

Bliss 100

A little over five months ago, I posted my very first post on balance and bliss. At that time, I had no idea where my life was going to take me or what I was going to find on my journey, but I knew that somehow I had to make a concentrated effort to find bliss and balance in my life. I had asked the Gods in China to “help me find my bliss,” but I never made a concentrated effort to seek out bliss.

This is my 100th posting on bliss and my life has changed over the past five months and I’ve realized that the more focus I put on bliss, the more blissful my life becomes. A lot has changed over the last five months and I attribute a lot of that to my focus on becoming more blissful. There was a period of about two weeks when I wasn’t blogging on a regular basis and my life was out of balance and I was more unhappy than I’d been in a long time. So looking back over the past 99 post, I’d like to share with you some of the ones that have meant the most:

Sixty Days of Bliss–I still haven’t quite finished all of my thirty blissmakers, but what I realized as I focused on accomplishing each of them in turn was how much pleasure those simple things really brought to my life. Spending time with my family, a good massage, traveling, all of those things make my life richer and fuller and the pursuit of bliss added bliss in unexpected ways.

Bliss Tea and Strawberry Bliss–Reminded me of amazing times I had discovering the foods of the world and how simple things when savored can bring tremendous amounts of bliss.

Seventeen Blissful Memories and BatBliss–Reminded me again exactly how lucky I am to have two such amazing children. They are both thoughtful, loving, and intelligent and they make me proud every single day.

Bliss Mountain–This was one of my all time favorite posts as it detailed an amazing journey I took with my daughter through the Blue Ridge mountains. It was an incredible trip as we had no real agenda and just drove where ever the road took us. I felt like I learned a lot about my daughter and about myself on that trip.

Twenty Nine Days of Bliss–This chronicled my trip through the 29 days of giving and I still haven’t assimilated the lessons learned and determined how if anything the 29 day challenge changed my life.

Overall, my blog has added a tremendous amount of joy to my life as I’ve found myself focusing on the people who matter and on bringing joy into my own life. The one thing I do know that I need to keep focusing on is building my relationships with my family and on prioritizing my life so that they take center stage.

Blissful Friendships

I had lunch with an old friend from my prior company today and it was an awesome respite from the insanity that is sometimes my life. We worked together for four years and have been friends since the day he found me crying in the warehouse and comforted me, even though I was probably not making a lot of sense. Ever since whenever I’ve needed a shoulder to cry on over anything work related, PMPM (don’t ask, it is one of those really stupid nicknames that people end up with when they work together too long) was always there for me. In fact, our other friend always tells me I have to go find PMPM when he thinks I’m ready to turn on the water works.

The four years we worked together were incredibly intense. We first met when he was the project manager (PM) of a labeling project and I was a total novice who knew absolutely nothing about project management, requirements gathering, test scripts or any of the geeky stuff that’s now my life. He patiently coached me through writing my very first test script (my mom was so proud she framed it, just kidding) and read the many iterations of my requirements documents. We also snuck out to Starbucks (I mean went to an offsite meeting) at least once a week to dissect work, life, and dish on all the great gossip.

PMPM kept our team together when internal and external forces threatened to blow us apart. He kept his cool when dealing with a very uncool engineer who believed everyone in IT was his personal was monkey and when, in the time before I’d embraced my inner b*tch, our ABAPer called me one and I took offense. He managed to get us all calmed back down and sometimes we even sat around the campfire and sang kumbaya (okay, not really…but we did get drunk together if that counts).

I ended up working for PMPM again on my my very first SAP implementation and that’s when I figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I watched, observed, and learned from a master and now I can do it almost as well as he can. He saw me through some of the worst times in my professional life when my boss was demanding more than I could give and life on the home front wasn’t so rosy because I was traveling all the time. He was one of the people who told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to get some balance in my life.

More than my PM, PMPM has been my friend and wise counsel over the past six years. Although I’ll never profess to be as wise as he is, I’ve done my share of listening to his complaints ranging from our rogue team member in Germany to his struggles at his last gig, which were remarkably similar to my struggles. What was really cool about seeing PMPM today is that he looked happier than he’s looked in a long time. The last few times we’d met for lunch, he’d looked like a man under a tremendous burden and today he was happy. I told him I’d trade places with him and I’d take hanging out at home and working on home improvement projects and he could go back and deal with my insanity. For some reason, he didn’t think that was a great trade.

Even though we haven’t worked together for more than two years, he’s still able to make me smile and convince me that everything really will be all right. The bliss of old friends who understand you, understand your history, and can make everything better is priceless.

PS: I had two nicknames: PM Jr and DB (domineering b*tch)

Objects de’ Bliss

Decluttering is all the rage and according to the experts will solve everything from money woes to depression. However, some of the experts go a little to far and believe that you should dump everything that you’re not using right this moment with no room in life for the sentimental. One of the decluttering books I’ve read says that keeping sentimental objects keeps you stuck in the past reliving old memories instead of making new ones. The same book advises tossing out all your photos because they’re also keeping you stuck in the past.

Decluttering I get as there is nothing better than walking into a clean and well organized house. However, I firmly believe that there is room in life for sentimental tchotchkes that make you remember who you were, where you’ve been, and who you’ve shared your life with. Sitting on my mantle right now are two Oscars that I purchased in Denmark several years ago. To some folks, they might just be useless souvenirs, but to me they are a reminder of how much I want to be a screenwriter and of that fun and funky trip when I just decided to drive from Bremen Germany to Denmark for a day just because I thought it might be cool. Looking at those little trinkets, I’m reminded of driving around looking for the castle, calling one of my best friends to tell her I was in Denmark, and of how all the stores downtown were closed, but the mall was open.

My desk is full of trinkets that some might call useless doodads, but every one of them has meaning for me. There’s the wooden plate that says “Making a Life Comes Before Making a Living.” I purchased that the week after my dad died at a little store in Iowa and it serves as a reminder to slow down and enjoy life instead of being in fast pursuit of the a buck. There’s another one on my desk that says Life is about moments and not milestones. They both serve as a reminder that I only get one life to lead and I had better make the most of it. The wooden Buddha on my desk was purchased in China. I’d gone into this little curiosity shop (China is full of them) and found this hand carved Buddha that had amazingly good energy. The price started out around $20, but we negotiated it down to $9. Buddha is a reminder that there are good things in the world and that I need to have patience and grace.

The artwork on my walls is also full of meaning and memory. The paper scrolls of the seasons were purchased at the Humble Administrator’s Garden in China. At the time, I didn’t know where I would put them because I lived in an ordinary ranch house. However, two years later, we purchased a split level that had the perfect place to hang those scrolls. Over my desk hang prints of Mt. Fuji that I purchased at Mt. Fuji over 15 years ago. In Japan, they are just cheap throw away souvenirs, but they look beautiful when hung in a group and when I look at them, I remember watching the sunrise on top (okay at the base camp) of Fuji.

My objects de’ bliss don’t cause me to live in the past and spend all my time reliving old memories, they remind me that there have been good times in life and there will be again and they inspire me to go out and create more happy memories.

Balancing Evil

Eight years ago, the world stood still as the planet stared transfixed as the images of jumbo jets flying into the World Trade center played over and over and over on every TV in the nation. I still remember where I was that awful day as the worst attack on our nation’s soil since Pearl Harbor played out. I know it’s a cliche to say that we lost our innocence that day, but I felt as if my heart and soul had been ripped out as I realized that terror could come to our doorstep.

That day and the weeks that followed were filled with heartbreaking moments:

The photos of doctors and nurses waiting outside hospitals for patients who would never come because there were few survivors.
The walls of photos of family members putting up pleas for information on loved ones who would never come home.
The rescue dogs who couldn’t find anyone to rescue.
The sight of people jumping out of buildings because the alternative was to burn alive.
The sight of firefighters rushing up the stairs when everyone else was rushing down.

However, even in those darkest moments, there was overwhelming evidence that for every act of evil there are moments where the goodness of humanity shines through. There was evidence in the smallest gesture that we as a nation were still a nation of heros, still a nation of people who cared, still a nation full of people who were and are “Proud to be an American.”

In the hours after the horror, firefighters drove hours from around the country to pull shifts in the pit that was Ground Zero. They worked around the clock in dirty, grimy, and dangerous conditions hoping against hope that they’d be able to pull out survivors. Rescue dogs and their handlers descended on the site in hopes of finding life.

Ordinary people who weren’t allowed into Ground Zero passed out sandwiches and water to the rescue workers and held up signs to let them know that their efforts and sacrifices were appreciated. Thousands attended memorial services for the grief of one was the grief of all.

The story of Flight 93 gave us all heroes and hope for these were ordinary citizens who had a choice: they could go quietly to their deaths or they could fight back and maybe save others from becoming victims of hate. They chose to fight and in doing so etched their story in the annals of history. They gave us hope in that terrible time when everything seemed wrong with the world and when we, as Americans, were hated simply for having been born in America.

The days after 9/11 were filled with horror, with hope, and with patriotism. I never felt more fully an American than on the Friday after 9/11 when I stood outside with my family, lit candles and sang the Star Spangled Banner. As we stood together outside, we saw the first planes flying out of O’Hare and we knew America would recover.

Two years ago, my family traveled to the field in Pennsylvania where Flight 93 flew nose first into the rich dark soil and 4o innocents lost their lives. Humans are comforted by memorials and in the absence of formal statues and shrines, we visit the places where tragedies have occurred and leave tokens of remembrance. It was dark the first time we saw the Flight 93 memorial and the cool evening air seemed tinged in sorrow as we looked at the hundreds of tokens people around the world had left in memory of the greatness of ordinary citizens.

Eight years doesn’t change the awful events of September 11, 2001, but the evil that destroyed our innocence has been balanced out by the heroics of those who chose to make their last few minutes on earth matter and by those who stepped forward to help heal the wounds.

Air Bliss

Air travel and airports have fascinated me most of life and I fell in love with the whole idea of flying off into the wild blue yonder long before I took my first flight. When I was a kid, my dad would sometimes take us to O’Hare to walk around and see the planes. I was fascinated by the thought of getting on a plane and a few hours later being someplace else.

I loved walking the corridors and imaging where all the people were going. The people dressed in business suits were obviously traveling to important meetings where the fate of world commerce would be decided (it was only later I realized that the most important thing decided in some meetings was what kind of donuts to have). The families were traveling to exotic locations to see grandma and grandpa. The teenagers were traveling to meet their friends. I created stories about everyone I saw and loved imagining interesting and exciting lives for all of the folks that could afford to travel by air.

Fast forward about 10 years and I took my very first flight from St. Louis to Memphis and I finally felt that magickal feeling that comes from taking off and slipping the surly bonds of earth to ride upon the clouds. Despite my best efforts to be sophisticated and worldly because after all I was a junior in college, inside I was a little kid excited about her first time on a plane. I’d heard about what it was like to look down on the earth from 30,000 feet, but nothing prepared me for how incredible it was to be above the clouds and to look down and see the checkerboard fields laid out below you.

The Air Force called me right out of college and I want to work at Scott Air Force Base as a civilian auditor and planes became a part of my everyday life as I got to see planes, planes, and more planes every day at work. We had everything from huge cargo planes to fighter jets grace our runway and I’d often spend my lunch hour watching the planes come and go.

I transferred to Kadena Air Base after a year and a half at Scott and the flight over almost killed my love of flying. Imagine flying for two days with a husband and four month old. Then imagine getting stuck in Anchorage, Alaska for two days with no winter clothes and a sick infant. That was the hellish beginning of my trip to Okinawa and my first exposure to the darker side of flying: delays, lost luggage, and really cranky flight attendants.

The thing about being stationed on a small island in the East China Sea is that if you want to go anywhere, you have to fly and you get to fly in some pretty interesting aircraft. I got to fly in net cargo seats in C-130s and in the very top of C-5’s where you’re actually seated backwards. I loved those flights as they fed my sense of adventure. I also got to fly in a small luxury Lear jet that normally ferried generals. If I wasn’t flying in cool planes, I was out on the flight line looking at them. I got to see the avionics in an AWACS plane and see the inside of a fighter.

I hung up my traveling wings for a few years when we returned to the US, but then in 2000 we took the family to Disney and the magick started when we got to the Indianapolis Airport and the kids realized we really were going to Disney. It was that trip that I discovered it wasn’t only the planes that could be pretty interesting, but the Airports as well. The Cleveland Airport has giant paper airplanes gracing their terminal and we had fun seeing what different ones we could spot.

Since that trip, I’ve found myself in lots of airports and I always try to look at them as interesting places in their own right versus just places I’m passing through and I’ve discovered the beauty and grace that some airports exhibit. The United terminal at O’Hare has long corridors filled with lighted globes that add sparkle and dazzle to the trip.

Heathrow is one of the grandaddies of them all when it comes to airports: it is huge, it is confusing, and it has the best shopping. I was fortunate enough to have a layover at Heathrow once and I spent a couple of hours wandering the corridors shopping the world. Burberry’s and Harrod’s offered traditional British shopping, Bally offered goods from Switzerland, and the resturants offered cuisine to suit even the most discerning palete. There was sushi, sandwiches, and traditional British fare.

The Atlanta Airport is an art museum in its own right. I ended up stuck at the airport for a six hour layover and I took the time to explore all the concourses and I found some amazing artwork. There were delicate glassworks whose undulating shapes seemed alive, there were stone sculptures mimiking traditional Afrikaan American art, and traditional folk art from the south.

As blissful as traveling the world is, there’s nothing quite so blissful as getting on a plane knowing that you’re flying to the most blissful location of all: home and family.

Fish Bliss

Growing up in the Midwest, there was no way I could escape being a meat and potatoes kinda girl. The meat of choice was beef and the only time we had fish was when we went to Missouri and indulged in fried catfish. We didn’t eat out that often and and when we did it was family restaurants that served the same kind of food we ate at home. The one memorable fish experience I had growing up was after my first semester at college when my dad took me out for lobster saying that everyone had to have lobster at least once in their life.

When I was 23 and working for the Air Force Audit Agency and word came from headquarters that my transfer to Okinawa, Japan had been approved, my coworkers took me out for sushi to celebrate. It was the first time I’d ever heard of sushi and when I discovered it was mostly raw fish, I grimaced and tried it, but quickly retreated into the safer realm of tempura.

I discovered lots of amazing foods during my three years in Japan, but still never fell in love with sushi. Teppan yaki thrilled me for both its flavor and the showmanship of the chefs who made cooking over a hot grill an art form with their running commentary, thrown eggs, and artfully sliced veggies. I’d never been a big fan of squash until I discovered tempura and I was amazed at how wonderful the humble vegetable could taste when battered and fried. Then there was Mongolian. I still remember the first time I had Mongolian at the officer’s club on Guam. There was something about picking your own veggies and meats for stir fry and then watching them cooked on the big grill that made them taste amazing. Our favorite Mongolian place on Okinawa was this wonderful restaurant called Genghis Khan that had a waterfall in the window. However, the lure of sushi still escaped me. I went out with coworkers a few times and stuck with the shrimp sushi, which was cooked so I considered it safe.

Sushi and I didn’t cross paths again until last year when a team came from Japan to review the status of my project and they took us out for sushi. Apparently they’d been warned ahead of time that I wasn’t very adventuresome when it came to food so one of my Japanese co-workers ordered me a steak so that I would have something to eat. It was a little embarrassing to be the only one at the table not eating sushi, but the embarrassment still wasn’t enough to convince me to try sushi again.

It was a comment by my boss and a trip to Miami that convinced me that maybe there was something to this raw fish thing. My boss made the comment that I played it safe when it came to food and that ticked me off just enough to make me want to prove to him that I wasn’t a culinary clod. Seafood abounds in Miami and it was there I discovered cerviche. Cerviche is raw fish that has been “cooked” in lemon juice. It has the most amazingly delicate flavor and I realized that if cerviche was this good, maybe I should give sushi another try.

I dabbled in sushi for about six months, periodically testing the waters to see if I really liked it or I just liked the idea of having a sophisticated palate. It was during a trip to Chattanooga a few weeks ago that I realized I really did like some aspects of sushi. A really good friend of mine from our Memphis facility had gone out for sushi the day before with some coworkers from Miami and was raving about how good it was and how she wanted to go out for sushi again. We packed up the van and headed to another sushi restaurant to indulge. There was something about her enthusiasm that made me want to really explore sushi. It also helped that our Latin American friends were very knowledgeable about sushi and were able to order things they thought we’d liked. We ended up eating our way through two sushi boats and then some and I came away with a deeper appreciation for sushi. I also learned that sushi doesn’t necessarily mean raw fish. Sushi actually refers to vinegar rice topped with other ingredients and since that trip I’ve been exploring various types of sushi.

Since I came home from Chattanooga, I’ve been craving sushi and heading out to Sushi Station at least once a week for lunch. The cool thing about Sushi Station is that they are a rotating Sushi bar that lets you see what the various rolls look like before you purchase them. My favorite is Philadelphia rolls (cream cheese, salmon, and avocado) and I’m not sure what it is about that combination that makes them so yummy, but I seem to crave Philadelphia rolls.

One thing I’ve noticed since I’ve been eating more sushi is that I seem to have more energy and am feeling better. That makes sense since even Philadelphia rolls are fairly low in calories and both salmon and avocado are good for you. I also think fondly of my friend from Memphis every time I eat sushi and maybe that’s part of the reason I enjoy it so much.

Bliss Mountain

I’ve spent quite a bit of the last month traveling, but the best traveling was the three days my daughter and I spent wandering around the South. I spent a week in South Carolina for work and she flew down to Atlanta to meet me. We had no set agenda, except to see the sites and enjoy each other’s company.

Her flight landed right on time and I was thrilled to see my so-grown up daughter get off the plane. Even though she is 17 and has flown several times before, I was so nervous about all the things that could go wrong between when her dad put her on the plane in Chicago and I picked her up in Atlanta that I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw her get off the plane.

We started our adventure with a trip to the Pendergrass Flea Market, which bills itself as Georgia’s Largest and the World’s Largest Flea Market. I can’t speak for it being the largest, but it was certainly a change for a girl who grew up believing flea markets were grungy affairs where people sold left overs out of the back of their trucks. There was an amazing array of goods at the Pendergrass Flea Market from necklaces to pigs. We spent a relaxing hour or so looking at stuff we didn’t need before we decided to head on our way.

I’d given Caitlin the option of mountains or the ocean and she chose the mountains. We headed north toward North Carolina. As we passed through the tip of South Carolina, we decided to stop at Oconee Station to see what was there. Deep in the SC woods we found a small ranger’s station and two old buildings. One had been a house in prior days and the other an outpost. Although it was a beautifully sunny day, there seemed to be a chill in the air when we stepped into the dwellings and it was as if the ghosts of the past were speaking to us and urging us never to forget the atrocities that had taken place in the peaceful hills of the South.

As we were about to leave the station, we saw a sign for the Station Cove Falls. Inquiring at the guard station we were told the falls were an easy 30 minute walk. The hike was easy for my very in shape daughter, but very out of shape me struggled with the ups and downs of the mountain hills. Caitlin walked ahead and it took me over an hour to catch up with her and by then she was walking back from the falls because she’d gotten worried about me. She told me that once I got there I would have to walk down and over hills and she advised me to turn around because she could see I was already pretty worn out. I heeded her advice and started walking back, dreading the long and hilly walk back. However, my sweet and brave daughter knew I was physically exhausted and dehydrated and she walked all the way back and got the car and then met me at a way post. I was so proud of her because even though she is 17, she doesn’t have her license and has less than 10 hours experience behind the wheel. She explained to me that she drove very slowly and watched the road carefully. I’m just glad this happened in the backwoods of South Carolina and not downtown Chicago.

After this adventure, we stopped at a fruit stand and bought some of the best nectarines and blackberries we’d ever had and called that lunch. We spent the next few hours driving through the mountains and talking about life, college, and a host of other things. It was refreshing to listen to my daughter talk about her goals and realize that her dad and I had done a pretty good job raising her. We stopped for dinner at a quaint little restaurant overlooking some falls. I had trout and Cat had what she declared was the best veggie lasagna that she’d ever had.

We also stopped by a little shop selling crafts from local artisans and we bought some beautiful glass jewelry. After we left though, Cat and I talked and we both realized that we’d gotten a really bad vibe from the lady running the store as if she was taking advantage of the local artists. Neither of us is sure why we felt that, but it was interesting that we both had the same feeling.

We rolled into Asheville, NC around 8 pm and there wasn’t a hotel room to be had unless we were willing to pay $150 a night, which we weren’t. I pulled into the parking lot of the local Chik-a-filet and started surfing the net and making calls to find us a room. I finally found one in Greenville, SC so we got back on the road and drove for another hour before bedding down. I spent some time before we headed to bed figuring out where we’d be the next two nights and making reservations so that we didn’t hear “no room at the inn” again.

Breakfast the next morning was a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. The Krispy Kreme by us closed

about six months ago so we were both ready for our donut fix. Driving around Greenville we came upon this beautiful park built around a waterfall. There was a magnificent suspension bridge and an amazing park full of people running, playing, and enjoying life. We got out and spent some time enjoying the serenity before we headed north to Asheville and the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The Blue Ridge Parkway is known as “America’s Favorite Drive and I can see how it got that name. It is an incredibly beautiful parkway through the Blue Ridge Mountains. We drove up mountains, down mountains, and through tunnels all the while enjoying some sweet bluegrass music and the amazing scenery. The first hour or so we stopped at every scenic overlook to take pictures, but then we realized we’d never get to Johnson City, TN if we kept stopping so we vowed to only stop when we got to the top of the mountain. Mount Mitchell was definitely worth stopping for as it is the highest peak east of the Mississippi. I felt as if I could see forever. We made Johnson City by 6:30 pm and after a meal at Caitlin’s favorite restaurant, Waffle House, we turned in early so we could drive back to Atlanta the next day.

Our last day in the South we spent driving through TN, NC, SC, and GA. We got to the hotel by 7 and after a quick meal, Caitlin turned in and I went to return the rental car. All too soon our journey was over and it was time to return to the mundane world of work, bills, and the like, but I know I will always carry memories of this special trip in my heart as I felt like I had three wonderful days with my daughter outside the bounds of everyday life. I’ve always loved my daughter, but in those three days I learned what an incredible, independent, vivacious, and wonderful young woman she really is.

Freedom in the Balance

Freedom comes with a horrific price tag: blood, sweat, tears, and lives. What is it about Freedom that we’re willing to put our very lives on the line to fight for it? It is the essence of humanity and it is the only thing worth fighting and dying for. Freedom is the right to choose your destiny, it is the right to choose where you will work, how you will worship, and who you will love.

Freedom is the right to speak your mind. On July 4, 1776, fifty-six men committed treason by speaking their minds and declaring that all men were created equal and endowed with certain unalienable Rights. The signers of the Declaration of Independence could have hung for their words, but they were willing to take the risk because they knew that freedom was greater than any one human being.

On June 4, 1989, thousands of Chinese protesters peacefully gathered in Tienanmen Square to ask for the same rights our founding fathers had fought for centuries earlier: the right to self government, the right to a free market, and the right to speak their minds. Ordinary Chinese citizens knew that the government might–and did–take lives for the protest, but they knew freedom was worth dying for.

Time has given World Wars I and II a glossy patina and when we think of those “Wars to End All Wars,” we romanticize them and think about the flying aces, the cute songs, the dances at the USO, and the heroes. We don’t think about the blood, the death, the stench. We don’t think about what it must have been like for young men to step past the bodies of their best friends in a game of hide and seek with the enemy. We don’t think about the hunger, the pain, and the fear.

The heroes of WWII get saluted, get thanked, and get respected; but the heroes of our most recent wars are often forgotten and left to wonder if we do appreciate their sacrifices. Time has not given the wars in Vietnam, Korea, Iraq, and Afghanistan the glossy patina enjoyed by the great wars of the past and we often forget the sacrifices being made today by young men and women who believe that freedom for all mankind is worth fighting and dying for.

Next time you see someone in uniform, take the time to thank them for making the sacrifices that let us enjoy beer, barbeque, and fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Strawberry Bliss

The best meal I ever had wasn’t in a fancy restaurant, but was strawberries and chocolate eaten as I strolled through the streets of Amsterdam. I had one magickal day in Amsterdam and I didn’t want to miss a minute of it sitting in a restaurant. I found a small grocery store and purchased some fresh strawberries. They were smaller than the berries we have at home, but they were much sweeter and I walked the streets of Amsterdam eating those incredibly flavorful berries.

A few blocks from the grocer, I found a chocolate shop and I could tell it was good because there was a queue of people (mostly women) lined up outside. Taking my place in line, I patiently waited for my turn to enter the store and take my place among the chosen few who were already inhaling chocolate nirvana. The chocolate was incredibly pricey, so I chose only a few small pieces. The chocolate was well worth the price and the wait as it melted in my mouth and perfectly complimented the blissful strawberries I’d already eaten.

The serotonin high from the chocolate and strawberries had me floating through the streets of Amsterdam (or maybe it was the buzz from the coffee shops) for the rest of the day. The Amsterdam Flea Market was a treasure trove of art, antiques, crystals, and more. I found a beautiful print of Cafe Terrace at Night by Van Gogh and another watercolor by an obscure recent artist. Both now happily adorn my walls to always remind me of that blissful day.

More bliss was to be had in the Amsterdam Flower Market where I wandered the fragrant streets sniffing the tulips, the orchids, and a host of other flowers. It is absolutely impossible to feel sad, angry, or uptight when you’re surrounded by so many sights and scents.

I haven’t been able to recreate the strawberry bliss I felt in Holland at home, but I did recently discover Devonshire cream and mixing that buttery thick cream in with fresh strawberries and sugar is a blissful treat in its own right.