You haven't missed some new recipes, have you?

In case you are keeping up with this blog by e-mail, you will not automatically receive all updates, only letters (posts). Therefore, I want to suggest you check out my other pages as well. For example, I just uploaded a new, delicious, pumpkin pie recipe. It is delicious!

  Here is a link to the recipes page!   http://www.lifeandacupoftea.blogspot.se/p/recipes.html

Fall family photos

The last weekend of September (2013) we were happy that Tomas' brother, Jonny, could come for a visit. We spent the weekend hanging out, and one bonus was that Jonny brought his nice camera (a similar camera is right on top of my list of things to purchase when I get a teaching job!) He graciously agreed to take fall family photos for us, and here I have chosen some favorites to share with you. (Those of you who know me well know that I love love love taking/looking at photos! And I tend to get a tad obsessive about it as well. When it was time for these to be taken, the weather kept changing, causing a lot of yelling "the rain is coming!" and general running around. But in the end it worked out. :)

In these pictures Yaminah is 3 years, 8 months old. No wonder she is looking so grown up... Thanks again, Jonny!

I think this one should be called, "Trust the Stenbacks for all your banking needs." :)

Taken in town with Uppsala's beautiful cathedral in the background

13 months and counting... if I could go home. This is what I would want.

13 months. 13 months, and counting.

That is how long it has been since I have been home in the US, and unfortunately I do not know when I will be able to go home next time. I think this is the longest time I have ever been away from home, even when we lived in China. Hopefully we will be home next summer, but that means it will nearly have been two years since I have set foot on American soil, since I have seen my friends, since I have been home.

Luckily, thankfully, all of my family came to visit this past summer here in Sweden, and we had a great summer! (I will post about that soon).

Today a classmate in my Ancient Chinese course asked me what it is that I miss about the US, since I told him that right now I feel homesick for home. I could not explain it. What do I miss? And so I started thinking. Except for family, which is a given, little things are on my mind. I would answer my classmate's question with a string of examples of things that "I want:"

• I want to spend two hours (at least) in Target. I would check greetings cards, the grocery department, toys, frames, organic vegetarian toaster pastries, affordable children's bubble bath, (unlike the prices in Sweden) etc. I just want to go to Target. On the phone I just joked with Danell that perhaps Target should sponsor me to come over and shop there.
• I want to sit in a Starbucks, drink a latté, listen to the music, and watch people go by.
• Although I LOVE my local English Bookshop in Uppsala, Sweden, when I go home I always go to Barnes. I love looking around Barnes and Noble--I love the smell of the books, the educational children's toys, the calendars, and again, the coffee shop inside.
• I want to go to a movie with my sister. (And yes, if there is nudity, I will probaby cover her eyes like when we went to Sex and the City).
• I want to go out to eat at the Olive Garden with Danell and Stephanie, because we had so much fun last time we went.
• I want to see my godson Erik, and see how grown up he is getting (Kindergarten already?!)
• I want to visit Dave and Erin and hopefully try some of Dave's homemade pumpkin beer and otherwise just hang out.
• I want to go to my tiny hometown of Fertile, MN, where people wave when you walk down the street and where people know me. I want to go to my home church.
• I want Yaminah to play with her cousins Kiera and Colin, because I know they would have a blast now.
• I want a bagel with cream cheese, vegetarian taco pizza from Happy Joe's, and everything pumpkin.
• I want to go out to the Inn at Maple Crossing for a nice supper with Mom and Bruce, since we always dress up and make an occasion out of it.
• I would want to see the brilliant fall colors when we visit Dad in Duluth (and go to the Scenic Café for lunch and of course, a camping trip!)
• I want to visit my friends Marisa and Kelly, to reminisce about living together in college, and to catch up.
• I would want to go Christmas shopping at home, including at the Mall of America. I would spend a full day there.
• I want to sit at Sarah and Scott's and read lots of magazines, and have a fun get-together like we usually do with everyone, including Beth, Rachel, Josh, Dave, Erin, Sar, Scott, and whichever friends could attend (Travis, Marshall, Marisa?)
• I want to take a walk around Augsburg, my college, and hear my old choir sing a concert.
• I want Yaminah to spend time with her godparents Darin and Brandi and Sarah and Scott.
• I want to go out to a restaurant for a traditional American brunch. Bring on the maple syrup!
• Etc.

In short, I wish I could go home now. But, we are busy, and normally I don't sit around and think about the things that I want. We have a great life here in Sweden, and like I said, normally I do not spend time sitting around, thinking about what I would want to do.

But tonight I did. So there it is; to answer my classmate's question, this is what I want.

A letter to Starbucks

In light of the recent news about Starbucks, including the image on Facebook where a child is right next to people carrying huge guns, pictured here, I just sent off this letter to Starbucks' web page, through Customer Service. Here is what I wrote. Feel free to share, and write your own letter too.



Dear Starbucks,

I have always been a Starbucks lover--I own mugs, love the coffee, love the fall drinks. Starbucks has always been like coming home to me. I love the scents, the friendly people, the chairs... everything. My friends and family have teased me for this. I even wrote a blog post where I longed for your PSL, last summer. http://lifeandacupoftea.blogspot.se/2012/08/fall-friends-home-and-pumpkin.html 

But I am shocked, saddened, even OUTRAGED at the way that Starbucks has changed, to become a cowardly company refusing to simply take a stand against violence, by hanging "No Guns Allowed in Starbucks" signs. By "following local laws" and allowing guns in your stores, you actually take no ethical stand.
I have seen--and the word is SPREADING--that you are even allowing open gun rallies in your stores. Have you seen the image on the news, from a Starbucks, with a little baby in a stroller next to men in jeans, all carrying huge weapons?  If you haven't, trust me--I have. I have shared it on Facebook and it is going viral! A little baby, in a stroller, suddenly met by such a show of violence.

What has become of my beloved Starbucks? :(

As a mother, as a citizen, as a person with a brain, I find this disgusting, and I am starting to wonder: how much is Starbucks being paid off by the NRA? Why else would you allow gun rallies in your company, a company where women, men, students, tourists, elderly, and children are also welcome?

Change! Change now! So I can go back to loving my Starbucks. :(

Sincerely,
Rachel Stenback

A postcard from 1924

Recently we were invited to have lunch at my father's cousin's house in Dalarna. (One great thing about having company is that we are also invited out for meals and "fika" more often!) After lunch at Tralla and Lisa's we went out to look at the old house in the yard, the house where my paternal grandfather, Oscar Westhed, was born in the year 1900. There we found a postcard which Oscar sent home to his family in Skålö, Dalarna, to say that all was well after they had emigrated to the United States. I loved holding the card, and as always I love looking at the handwriting. Of course I also loved looking at the image of the magnificent ship that had carried my grandfather over the seas. I wish there were more pictures from the ship, and more personal stories. What was the journey like? What were its passengers thinking, and which dreams did they have? Once they were halfway across the ocean, did some suddenly regret their decision?

Here are the pictures I took of the postcard. Do these images set your mind to work as well?

The postcard says: "Dear home, all is well. Kalle and I are together here in northern Wisconsin. Will write again after I have an address. Best wishes to all of you, Oscar and Kalle."

 

In Grandma Hildur's own words, written at age 87

A while back I uploaded the personal, handwritten history of my beloved grandmother, Hildur Westhed. Many peope have been in touch and said they enjoyed reading it, which I am sure Grandma would have been very proud to know! But that history was in Swedish, and now Dad has found another handwritten personal account from Grandma, this time in English.

Hildur Westhed, 100 years old

I love looking at this document. When I see her handwriting, it feels like she is still with us. She wrote this personal account in 1996, when she was "merely" 87 years old. But as those of you who had the privilege of knowing her personally, you know that she lived to be 101 1/2, and she was one of those people who managed to be young their whole life long, no matter how they may age physically. Despite spending her last years in a nursing home, she was forever interested in other people, in the details of their everyday lives, and was always quick to laugh. Also, despite being legally blind, she continued to write all through her life as well, including letters and cards in both English and Swedish.

Here is her own story, picking up from when she married my grandfather, Oscar, in 1943. (Scroll down to a previous post if you can read the Swedish, since that begins from when she was very young!)

Grandma's History Westhed Branch by Rachel Stenback

A very special meal, with two very special girls

Recently I had the privilege of sharing a meal with two young girls, during which would have been an hour spent wandering around town, just waiting to go to choir rehearsal. The meal was certainly nothing special--it was at McDonald's--but the girls are special.

And they are homeless.

Last week, on an surprisingly warm, lovely day in May I decided, at the advice of a classmate, to spend an hour relaxing before going to choir. My days are usually quite stressed with studies, dropping off or picking up from daycare, etc. So I was relaxing by the river in town when two young girls walked in front of me. I thought I recognized the little girl so I said hello, and sure enough, it was Maria (I am calling her Maria here for her own integrity's sake). A few weeks before I had met Maria, 5 years old, in our church, where she attended Sunday school with her father, even though she does not speak either English or Swedish. Her family, her father had told me, comes from Romania, and they are in Sweden hoping for help.

I waved at Maria and the older girl with her, whom I will call Sabrina, were struggling with plastic bags of what I then saw were recyclable bottles and cans they must had been hunting for in garbages. I noticed that Sabrina was bleeding so I dug into my backpack for a tissue, and as she dabbed at the blood on her hand, certainly from a sharp can or who knows what in the garbage, she sat down and we started talking. I was happy that she could speak a little English so we could understand each other, and she could pass on what I wanted to say to Maria. Sabrina is young--only 16, and in the 7th grade--but her bright eyes told me that she is already wise beyond her years. We spoke for a few minutes, and one of the first things she asked me was, "Are you Christian?" We didn't talk much more about that, except that she said that her family is also Christian. After just a few minutes of matter-of-fact speaking, she mentioned that her mother made her collect the bottles, and that they had not eaten anything yet that day. It was 5 PM.

To meet a two relatively happy, bright-eyed girls, aged 5 and 16, with dusty clothing, collecting bottles and cans in order to make enough money for food, affected me. (As I am sure it would affect anyone). For just a moment I considered to myself, what do I do now? but then I just said, "Come with me." Without any hesitation, they followed along. "Let's go to McDonald's!" I suggested, since it was close by.

When we stood in line it felt perfectly natural, as if we usually go there together. I asked what they would like to eat and Sabrina asked for a cheeseburger for each, and then I also added fries and milk for each, in a Happy Meal for Maria. Then we sat down together and began to eat, smiling at Maria, and listening to Sabrina. And then she began to tell me about their lives.

Sabrina is Maria's cousin and they are from Romania. Sabrina is only in Sweden for a month, and then she will be returning to Romania to go back to school. I understood that her family had taken her out of the 7th grade to come to Sweden to help make money. To this I tried to play my friendly-teacher card and urged her to do her best to finish up her schooling, that if she finishes school she can get a job and make a better life for herself and her family. None of the adults in their family has a job, she said; unemployment is apparently very high and they have a very low education level. She told me that where she comes from women get married at about 18 and then they quit working. Right now they are sleeping in a car. They receive some help from a nonprofit mission in Uppsala, where they can go for showers and other things. But they are sleeping in a car.

Then for a little while I think we both forgot who we were, and soon we were chatting about little nothings--about makeup, hair, and school. We laughed and had fun, and all the while, Maria was playing with the little toy from her Happy Meal box.

After a while we were all finished with our meal. One had not finished their milk so I insisted they bring it with them. I gave them another plastic bag to help redistribute their bottles and cans better, and then it was time to go.

I am not sure, but I think the girls did not say thank you for the meal as we stood outside the restaurant. Instead, Sabrina gave me a big hug, and then Maria did the same. I waved them off, as I went off to choir, and they continued going wherever they were going with their load of cans and bottles, back to their family wherever they were at that time, back to their makeshift home.

Unfortunately I had been coughing during the week so I had to sit and listen at choir rehearsal, and not sing. One of the first songs my choir sang was Mendelssohn's beautiful "Herr, nun lässest du deiner Diener in Frieden fahren." As I sat in the church listening to the music, I couldn't help but think about my own life, and the life of Maria and Sabrina. Why were they sleeping in a car, unable to buy food, while I am not? This a very complicated question, but even though I have met many financially poor people in our travels in Asia, it feels different at home. So close. So young!

Generally when Tomas and I have travelled we have always tried to support organizations who promote sustainable solutions to poverty, such as some wonderful ones we encountered in Hanoi, where a restaurant helped get young people off the streets and educate them through training and service. In Cambodia we were frequently surrounded by groups of little children, who would leave their game of soccer or whatever they were doing as soon as tourists approached, beg for a few moments, and then go back to their game. And I still strongly believe that it is good to support reputable nonprofits who are helping with sustainable solutions.

My own short-term, nonsustainable solution when I met these bright young girls recently was, however, to throw sustainable right out the window and deal with the problems at hand. Hand is bleeding? Tissue: check. Not eaten all day? Supper at McDonald's: check. I realize this was not the best solution, probably, nor do I have any answers to the bigger issues at hand.

But I ask myself, if it were my little daughter who was hungry, what would I want? I cannot even imagine this, as a mother, as a parent, to be unable to provide food for one's own child. I am sure that if we would have been in this situation, I would have said something like forget sustainable! My child is hungry!!

I am saddened to think about the situation that many of our world's young children, and adults, are in: hungry, while at least we have plenty. Recently we have been talking more and more at home about this, trying to always remember to be grateful for the food that we have, and our home, and trying to find some way to help those who do not. What can we do?

I don't have any solutions, only my own thoughts and questions.

Herr, nun lässest du deiner Diener in Frieden fahren...

While the husband's away...

Today Tomas was off with his friends from late morning to late at night, so Yaminah and I had a mommy-daughter day. The weather couldn't have been better: it was warm and sunny, with just a slight breeze. The trees and grass are finally bright green. In fact, since this is Sweden, who knows--there is a chance this is the best weather we will have all summer long! So Yaminah and I decided to enjoy it, and go on an outing to town. Here are some pictures from our day. And yes, as my friend Rachel once wisely mentioned to me, people post pictures on their blogs about what they want to portray. This is true. For example, I did not take a picture of what nearly happened at the very end of our long afternoon in town, when Yaminah was very near a meltdown when she was quite tired and really wanted a balloon. But she didn't lose it, just cried a little, and since that was actually the only near-incident, I am very happy. Nor did I take time to snap a photo when Yaminah spilled the sea salt all over the floor after supper (salt is surprisingly hard to vacuum up!)

But we had a great day. After all, while the husband's away, the girls will...go shoe shopping (yay! we both found shoes and hers were even half off!), take a long walk just to photograph flowers, and eat smoked salmon and asparagus quinoa risotto for supper.  :)

Waiting for the bus

 



Ice cream after a long afternoon of shopping in town

While I made supper I realized it was quiet in her room... guess we really shopped till we dropped!

After supper we went on an expedition to photograph Uppsala's Provincial Flower, "kungsängsliljan" or Fritillaria meleagris. They are lovely!

Running in the park behind our house. Yaminah was so excited to wear shorts for the first time this year!

"You're good at running now!" I said, as she ran down the bike path home. "Yes, I am!" she yelled back, and just kept running.

 

Stopping to swing a little in the grove of apple trees near our place.



Now I am happy Yaminah is (finally) asleep and I have a little time to myself (and a little Ben & Jerry's). That will be a great ending to a good but very busy day. :)

Why celebrate birthdays?!

April has arrived again, and in fact, as I write this there are less than two hours left of the month. Generally I love April, because it means spring should be around the corner if it has not arrived already (this year spring in Sweden was late), the days have grown longer so biking in the evening is much more pleasant, and then there is the little matter of my own birthday.

I have always loved having birthdays (although, as I have now hit the big 3-5, I confess I would like to have birthdays without actually getting older). As a child in Gary, Minnesota, I remember fun parties with classmates, and looking for presents that had been hidden somewhere in our living room. But unfortunately, since then, I have actually forgotten a lot of birthday celebrations. (A sign of age?!) This is why I dutifully take notes in Yaminah's birthday journal I have bought, to help her remember her birthdays in the future. But for myself, I have not gone to those lengths. Why? I might just have to start to call up people to reconstruct a type of birthday journal, after the fact, asking detective-esque questions such as, "What do you remember from the event? Do you know what the suspect was wearing?" etc, etc, since I am useless when it comes to remembering details when it is about myself.

One could ask what the point is of celebrating birthdays every year, now that I have most definitely left childhood behind. I think there are many reasons. First of all, birthdays are a great excuse to get together with good friends. For the last few years I have invited over a group of girls and we have had a great time together, talking and laughing (and Tomas has had to witness this as the lone male presence). Birthdays are a time for eating good food (including the beautiful birthday cake Tomas made this year, Birthday Cake Recipe). I also know that I love being able to celebrate my friends' birthdays. But this is not the only reason I find birthdays important. I think that in our stressful lives, and in this world that seems to be more and more violent and dangerous (with people close to us struggling with depression; with Boston bombings; unrest in the Middle East; another China earthquake, and a tragic loss of life in the Bangladesh building collapse recently in the news--the list could go on and on--), stopping for a little while to spend time together and focus on celebrating life is more crucial than ever. Because as the years go by, and our eyes are opened to more and more struggles that our fellow people around us, both near and far, the blessings in our lives also become (or should become) illuminated. Yes, there is sadness, but there is also joy; yes, there is tragedy, but there is also friendship and family. There is also even death, yet we can choose to celebrate life.

And so I celebrated another birthday. It was great, and I realized I am blessed with my own family and friends, both near and far (and of course I missed those who are too far away to be here for such events).

I hope you also have a good year, and when it is time for your birthday, I hope you have a wonderful celebration, no matter how you choose to mark the occasion. :)

Grandma's story, in her own words

In the middle of writing a final paper for my teaching class, I suddenly remembered something that I have been meaning to do, and what better time than in the middle of an important paper? :) In any case, I needed a break, and it feels both fun and important to share this with you. These are my grandmother's own words, written by her own hand in 1996. She was always great at writing, (but with very poor vision) and her even when she was over a hundred years old her memory and mind were clearer than any bell I have ever heard. I think Grandma would be very happy to share these words with you (and I also asked Dad, who agreed with putting them out on my blog). This is her story, written in Swedish--a language she never formally studied at all, which makes her abilities astounding--and in this tale she tells of the family history, of people born, and died; choosing names; spilling chocolate on dresses; moving; attending school; the Spanish Flu; attending Sunday School and fishing as a child, and World War I. I know this is truly epic, so I am going to try to find the version that she wrote in English and I will share this with you as well. But this one is for anyone who wants to read it in Swedish. I have simply photographed the papers, since I want you to be able to read it in her own writing. Feel free to comment in the "comments" field below (as anonymous is easiest, I think). Enjoy!

My grandmother's story, in Swedish.
by Hildur Margareta Westhed (1909-2011)