Taste of Tea

I've known my boyfriend, Kelly, for many years now, but sometimes he still surprises me. Somewhere around five years ago, when we both worked at summer camp, we had a tradition. At the end of our ridiculously long work day we would meet in the kitchen and choose the biggest bowls we could find and fill them Golden Grahams, and then we'd heat up a cup of tea to drink on the side. As we ate we would sit on the floor of the kitchen and talk for hours.

Yesterday he tackled the task of cleaning out the kitchen cupboards in our apartment and found some 14 boxes of various teas. As he told me about the tea he said, "So you should drink it, because I hate the taste of tea." I looked at him, bewildered, as we had shared dozens of cups of tea that summer. He smiled and said, "I hated it then, too. I was just trying to impress you."

Contributed by Aryn.

French Roast Guatemalan

A man came into my coffee shop today and asked for a fill of French Roast Guatemalan in his travel mug. As he began to speak I could tell instantly that he was a person that I would encounter for a very brief time, but will remember until my neurons fail me.

Taking advantage of the moment, he told me a story about his travels to South America. He remembered a seemingly insignificant experience in San Pedro, Guatemala, where he watched a few young boys play soccer in a yard. On the edge of their makeshift field there was a pile of coffee beans drying in the sun. One of the boys kicked the ball out of bounds and the three of them went running barefoot across the coffee beans, completely oblivious to them. At that moment he thought about the fact that those beans would likely wind up in the grinder at a small coffee shop just like ours, with customers consuming their juice with no realization of the journey they'd encountered.

An hour or two later the same man lingered at the counter. As I poured a cup of beans into the grinder I apologized for the loud noise about to curse his ears. He looked at me and said, "You should never apologize. When you say 'I'm sorry,' you're not just saying it to me, but to everyone around you, to the universe. You're giving birth to words that shouldn't exist. If I were concerned about the noise, then I shouldn't have chosen this spot to sit. My friends and I play the pinching game, and every time one of says 'I'm sorry 'we pinch each other as a reminder that not one of us really has anything at all to be sorry for."

Contributed by Aryn.

Awareness

An older man came into the coffee shop today wearing a camouflage jacket and a baseball hat with a moose on it. He came up to the counter with his white five o' clock shadow and asked for an ordinary cup of coffee. I asked him what size he would like, and he replied, "I need awareness, not an epiphany, so small please."

Contributed by Aryn.

Eyepatch

This guy that I work with at Brewberry's decided to celebrate National Talk Like a Pirate Day a few weeks ago. When he saw a woman wearing an eye patch he approached her, leaned over, and let out a "Yarrrrr." Her unamused expression revealed that her eyepatch was not being used to celebrate National Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Contributed by Aryn.

Hand-Holding

I'm spending a week at a camp for people with physical disabilities in California. Today we took a group of people who are blind to a movie theater that offered headphones and gave a play-by-play of everything you see during the movie.

I was seated next to an 88 year old man named Tom who lost his sight at the age of 19. Tom is a brilliant man, successful in business, has several patented inventions, and has been married for almost forty years. About 45 minutes into the movie, Tom leaned over and whispered, "Would you mind if I held your hand for a few minutes?"

I decided, what the hell. So, for the remaining hour of sappy chick-flick, I held the hand of a sweet old man. I'll always wonder whose hand he pictured himself holding, but regardless of what he saw in his mind's eye, I was flattered.

Contributed by Aryn.

From "The Unbearable Lightness of Being"

"It is a completely selfless love: Tereza did not want anything of Karenin (her St. Bernard); she did not ever ask him to love her back. Nor had she ever asked herself the questions that plague human couples: Does he love me? Does he love anyone more than me? Does he love me more than I love him? Perhaps all the questions we ask of love, to measure, test, probe, and save it, have the additional effect of cutting it short. Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved, that is, we demand something (love) from our partner instead of delivering ourselves up to him demand-free and asking for nothing but his company."

--from The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera.

Contributed by Aryn.

Perspective

A few years ago, I was driving down Hewitt Ave, and trying to make a left turn into one of the all-too-small parking lots on Hamline's campus. I waited patiently as a car came towards me in the opposite lane. The opposing car inched along, barely moving. With each nano second I became more and more frustrated with his pace.

I was running late, knew I would likely not find a parking spot even here, and just wanted to make my damn turn. As the car came nearer, the driver rolled down his window--I was nearly irrate now, ready for whatever he might say to me. He leaned through the open window and shouted, "You're beautiful!"

I've never felt my perspective on an incident change so quickly.

Contributed by Aryn.

Joy's Laundromat

I've been completely out of it lately. I've felt like I'm inside of this bubble where I observe everything around me, but in no way feel the interactions I have with other people. I haven't tasted the food that enters my mouth and I've simply generally felt numb.

But today, for the first time in weeks. I felt genuinely happy, and for no real reason. This intense feeling grew inside me as I drove home after an 11 hour shift at work. And just as I realized the word that inexplicably defines such happiness, "Joy", I simultaneously drove by a sign that said "Joy's Laundromat." It was as if it reaffirmed the fact that I was right. I rediscovered my Joy. My happiness came back.

Contributed by Aryn.

At Night in Chang Mai

At night in Chang Mai the streets are flooded with young children selling flowers and palm leaf crickets. They run around to gain a few more cents of income for their impoverished families. As you can imagine, it's quite hard to turn them away. By the end of the night I am always covered in Orchids.

One night a little girl around three years old tottered up to our table and silently lifted her flowers. I smiled at her and asked, "Sabai dee mai?" (How are you?) as Kelly handed her 10 bht. She responded with a huge smile and then proceeded to stick the coin in her mouth as she walked away. She was so excited she forgot to give us the flower.

Contributed by Aryn.

Undies

My boyfriend, Kelly, came to visit my new locale in Fountain, MN, and met my Grandpa for the first time. That night we went to my cousin's house for a bonfire and returned around 10:15 to find my 87 year old Grandpa sitting on his walker in the living room, watching the baseball game and eating a single serving cup of ice cream in his underwear.

"You caught me in my undies!" was his response and then he stuck around and chatted for another 10 minutes before retreating to his room...in his undies.

Contributed by Aryn.

Boat Driving

Another funny random camp moment came after one of my first speed boat rides. We unloaded the boat at the dock and as we walked to shore, one of the women who has schizophrenia turned to me and said, "You're a really good boat driver we were going 35 miles per hour that's about half as fast as a cheetah goes I have to go to my cabin bye!" It was all uttered in one deep breath.

Contributed by Aryn.

Translation

[My friend, Aryn, works at a summer camp for people with special needs. She sent me the following story.]

One of my favorite campers holds that position because of the sheer dichotomous nature of his personality. His cerebral palsy affects his speech making him fairly hard to understand, but after several years of working with him I am fairly accustomed to it.

He is one of the most polite young men I know, always saying "Thank you," "I'm sorry," and "Please" emphatically. However, if you listen carefully, in the very next sentence he will utter "She's a f-----g b---h" or "That scared the piss out of me."

This puts me in an awkward position as to whether or not to interpret his phrases verbatim when other staff ask for translations.

Contributed by Aryn.

Stranger Lefty

I realized today that I love making left turns. When there is someone in the opposing lane of traffic who is also turning left, an entire conversation takes place.

First, you make eye contact with this complete stranger, looking for the sign in their eyes that they are indeed making a left turn as well and not just playing with you or being annoyingly forgetful. Then, you realize they are doing the same thing to you. Finally, in less than 30 seconds, you make a nonverbal agreement with Stranger Lefty, and rely on each other to proceed and turn your respective lefts safely.

Contributed by Aryn.

Aiden

A few summers ago at camp I discovered a rare little boy. Though he came to our deaf and hard of hearing session, his disabilities went beyond physical limitations. Aiden was severely neglected for the first ten years of his life, leaving him with no form of communication beyond clicks and gestures.

One day, Aiden ran half a mile to the water front, grabbed a fishing pole, and waved it in the air dramatically. I got the impression that he wanted to go fishing. He and I must have waited on that dock for nearly an hour until, finally, the only living fish in Lake George bit our hook.

Elated, Aiden pulled back on the pole and sent the fish flying into the air. I finally got a hold of the fish and pulled the hook from its mouth. I watched as the boy’s expression changed from excitement to regret. He felt bad for hurting the fish. I held the little sunny up to his face and Aiden grabbed my hands, gave the fish a soft kiss, and then slowly helped me put it back into the water.

That little boy who had never known affection felt driven to show compassion to a fish.

Contributed by Aryn.

Getting Old

On the rare Tuesday afternoons when I find myself motivated enough to immerse my body in chlorine for half an hour of breath control and shoulder pain, I find three inspiring women. All in their early to mid 70’s, these ladies pull on their pink floral bathing suits and 1980’s swim caps to invigorate their sagging bodies every week, twice a week. They flirt with the lifeguard. Each take a separate lane because they can’t quite swim straight enough to share one, and then keep a fairly even pace in the water.

I find one of these women of particular interest, primarily because she is more toned than Madonna (even with her progressed scoliosis), but also because I over hear her in the locker room talking about learning French, her upcoming vacation to Europe, her qualms with the public school system, and “why the hell’d they change daylight savings time.” I hope I’m like that when I get old.

Contributed by Aryn.

Buying the Pie

One late night my friend Charlette and I decided to make a run to Perkins for pie and coffee. Upon arrival we realized that 2 slices of pie would be $7, but it was only $10-12 to buy a whole pie. So we carefully chose some kind of crazy berry concoction of a pie...and it was horrible.

We found ourselves stuck with six extra slices of horrible pie.The moral drawn and henceforth applied to all issues of suspect in life from relationships to commitments and obligations is: "You don't always have to buy the whole pie."

Contributed by Aryn.

Pedaling Backwards

About a year ago I was driving down Snelling--a street that some might consider an unlikley place for small, stupid, and beautiful things, but a prime locale in my mind--and listening to The White Stripes. As I cruised through the intersection of University and Snelling, I saw a man, in-between two zooming lanes of traffic, on his bike pedaling backwards, completely stationary. The effect was mirage-like; moving yet unmoving, safe amidst a dangerous flowing mechanical river. Beautiful.

Contributed by Aryn.