Thread: tea addicts
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McLemore
 
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Default tea addicts (long response, part one)

Once upon a time, (Joseph Kubera) wrote:
>Hi, everyone. My name is Joe, and I'm a tea-holic.


Following Joe's example, I'll go next.

My name is Martha, and I, too, am a tea-oholic.

My mother started me on the road to addiction. I don't blame her
for my problem,though, because I've known for some time that I
have this addiction and it is up to me to quit. I can, too; any
time I want to do so, I can quit cold-turkey...not a problem,
really.

Wait a moment...the kettle is whistling. I'll be back in a
second or two...just want to take it off the heat. Well, okay,
make that about 5 minutes. I've got my teapot waiting with some
Extra Fancy Formosa oolong in the infuser, so this will take more
than a few seconds.

I was drinking tea by the time I was 18-months old. I grew up in
the South (US) where summers can be so hot that milk will sour on
its way between the carton and a baby's bottle. Mother fed me
tea throughout my childhood, either iced or as cambric tea (with
crackers) when I was feeling poorly. When I was 8, or maybe 9,
she started letting me have a cup of grown-up tea with her in the
morning. (That's a cup of hot Lipton with sugar and just a
splash of milk.)

My addiction was in its early stages throughout childhood and
into my teen years, despite a lapse when I got sidetracked in
junior high by Coca-cola. This was in the days before canned
tea, when it wasn't cool to bring a thermos of tea to school.

When I was seventeen-almost-eighteen, though, my love (need) for
tea was taken to new heights--or dragged to new depths, depending
on your point of view. I had skipped school to go down to the
French Quarter, where I visited a fortune-teller. (She lived
around the corner, a few doors down and one flight up from where
Blaise Starr used to do her strip act.) This fateful day would
be my undoing as a tea addict, for it was the day I was
introduced to the good stuff. I remember it like it was only
yesterday, instead of nearly 40 years ago. I'll bet all of you
have had such a life-altering moment in your addiction that you
can recall with such clarity, haven't you?

The fortune-teller held court in a one-room-with-kitchenette
apartment which was tricked out in heavy velveteen drapes, beaded
lampshades, watered-silk on the walls and thick Persian rugs
underfoot. There were a couple of deep pillows on the floor, one
of them covered with what looked like tiger skin. The other one
was a tapestry-like material. She motioned for me to sit on the
daybed, in front of which was a tray set on low stacks of books.
She pulled up a chair from beside a marble-topped dresser and sat
across from me. She handed me a deck of cards and told me to
shuffle them while she made some tea for us.

I had been feeling a little spooked by the surroundings and the
intense way she looked at me, but when she said "tea" I knew the
afternoon would go well. I even believed my mother would never
know I had skipped school. I was wrong, on both counts.

Pardon me, the timer just buzzed. I have to go take care of my
tea. Back in a moment.

(c) 2003 Martha McLemore