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)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Greeting card chaos solved!

Last summer while we were home in the States visiting family, my sister and I went crazy buying greeting cards on sale. (I love Papyrus!) And at $1 per card, even my husband seemed to understand we could not resist. However, when the huge box of gorgeous cards arrived, he did look a little shocked that, as he put it, "we needed SO many?" But I have a love of cards, passed on from my wonderful grandmother, the true master of correspondence, and buying things when they are reduced to a mere dollar is... common sense!

However, our office has been quite disorganized as of late, and tonight I realized we needed to do something about it. An hour later I had acquired a great storage box with a clasp (from EM, Europa Möbler, in Sweden--obviously, any nice box will do) and my card chaos was a thing of the past.

I have seen that some pinners on Pinterest have been much more ambitious than I was, inserting category dividers and so on, but I am quite happy with my very simple, inexpensive (yet attractive) solution. I do not send cards so often that I have to divide them up, so I simply organized according to height. (Baby thank-yous and Christmas cards are now in a separate box, however, and boxed note cards are also in a separate box). Not organizing cards by category will also give me the pleasure of a moment of flipping through each of them to find the perfect fit for my next friend.

Since we have created an open office from our walk-in closet, now I have my handsome box on the shelf and it looks nice as well!

Three Years Old!

Happy birthday to my special little three-year-old, Yaminah!

Yesterday (Jan. 19) was her actual birthday, but we had her party a week before. Now that the floor has finally been cleaned of all of the tiny, colored sprinkles that had fallen on the floor, and the birthday is over, it is time for a report!

Yaminah has been so excited for her birthday (for all kinds of celebrations, really), so last night when she asked us happily, "Will you sing Happy Birthday to me tomorrow too?" and I had to tell her that her birthday would be over then, that it only lasts for one day, she burst into tears.  But I think that she has had a great birthday and party, and here are some of the hightlights to share with you.

First, we celebrated Tomas' birthday, which is on January 8. I know that Yaminah has a hard time keeping a secret, so this time I did not tell her exactly what Tomas would be getting as a gift. I did, however, inform her that I was buying a cake from a café, but I told her to keep it a secret. A little later, while I was at choir, I saw that Tomas posted this conversation on Facebook, and I will translate it here:

Yaminah: "I am not supposed to tell you that you are getting a cake."
Tomas: "But why are you telling me now then?"
Yaminah: "I am not telling you. I am just telling you that I am not supposed to tell you!"

With her quick mind, Yaminah sure keeps us on our toes. Some of her favorite activities now include doing puzzles and counting objects. She also loves her Duplo Lego, books (we read a lot), singing, Curious George, and her dolls. She knows all of the letters now, and is starting to understand that a few letters put together can make a word. Much to Tomas' annoyance sometimes at the supper table, she loves being quizzed. If I say a word, like "Birgitta," then she thinks it is great fun to guess what the first letter of the word is. She thinks for a moment, then yells, "IT'S B!" at which point Tomas usually says, "Good! Now no more quizzes, let's eat supper!" which Yaminah and I think is funny.

She has also started to understand some of the more serious aspects of life, such as death. Since her Grandpa Morfar (my grandfather) was seriously ill during Christmas vacation, and we were all worried about him, and since she knows her great grandma Hildur is now in heaven, she now understands more about what it is to die. When the tulips from her birthday party had wilted, she told Tomas during breakfast, "We should not say that the flowers have died. We should say that they are no longer living," she explained.  All in all, not a bad way to look at life, I think.

What is it about birthdays, and other milestones, that can make us nostalgic? I keep a birthday book for her, where I took notes from an interview I conducted with her (asking questions like what does she want to be when she grows up, when was she last sad, etc). In this book we also keep birthday cards. It is so much fun, but sometimes bittersweet, to look through old cards and letters. I especially want to revisit the handwriting of someone I miss. Here is a very special card Yaminah received when she turned one. Inside is a crisp one dollar bill, that we will of course save. My grandma Hildur, a real master of cards and correspondence, sent this to Yaminah was she was 100 years old. As we looked through these cards together, Yaminah said, "We should send Grandma Hildur a card!" and I looked at her and said, "But Yaminah, you know that she is in heaven now," to which she responded, "And can't we send her a card there?"

 

Named after her great grandma Hildur, I feel very privileged to be a part of watching Yaminah grow up, to see who she will become. I know Grandma would be so proud of her.

 

The day for the birthday party finally arrived. Yaminah's animal and Curious George-themed party was a hit! We decorated with colorful balloons, Yaminah chose her dress and jewelry, and two hours before the party, Yaminah went to her friend's party with Tomas for one hour. Sending them out of the house was a stroke of genius: while they were gone, and no one in my way, I was quickly able to set the table, put out the food, and add the final touches. The "fika" was great; this time we served two kinds of miniature cupcakes, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, Brie cheese and crackers, and fresh fruit. (This amazing chocolate frosting recipe and cupcake recipes can be found on my "Recipes" page, here).

Then we had her awesome Curious George cake, and before everyone went home we served pancakes with lingonberry jam and cream. (A few friends were impressed that in the midst of the chaos, Tomas just stood there completely unaffected, happily making his pancakes! This is how he is--sometimes I want him to get more excited about something that is going on around him, or participate faster, but if you want someone to make a huge stack of delicious pancakes in the middle of a crazy, loud birthday party in an apartment, he's your man). Here is a glimpse of the excitement, as the kids danced and danced together.

 

All in all, it has been a nice birthday week. Yesterday on her actual birthday she woke up to her presents in the living room, and we heard her yell, "PAKET!" (presents in Swedish).

"Prinsesstårta", adorable cake hand-made by Yaminah's grandmother, her farmor

Then we had a nice breakfast of her choice (American pancakes with blueberries, fresh mango and fresh-squeezed orange juice). Then while I was away singing with my choir, Tomas and Yaminah went swimming. Yaminah had a blast. Later, our friends Rachel and family came over for birthday fika. When they had to go home because it was getting late, Yaminah asked, "Who is going to come over now?" and I explained that now it was time for bed soon, she was very sad. She wanted the party to continue!

And now she is sleeping peacefully as I share these words with you. Wishing you all the best from us here in Uppsala, from a happy three-year-old, and her tired, but proud, mother.

From a Mother's Heart: It's Time to Amend our Constitution

It’s Time to Amend our Constitution

Rachel Stenback

Statue made from weapons, symbolizing nonviolence, in Cambodia

As the Christmas season beckons, only a week away, our country has been horribly reminded of the seriousness of our gun problem, as we all read horrifying accounts of innocent little children in Connecticut who were murdered, shot multiple times. As a parent, I can hardly even think about this incident without feeling sick; I desperately wish my own little daughter would never need to learn about such horrors. At soon-to-be three years old, she knows nothing of this evil in the world yet--guns. I wish I could protect her forever.

And so these are my credentials, why I am writing this: I am a mother, a parent; I will also be a teacher, and of course I am a concerned citizen. However, I am not a lawyer, nor am I a politician; perhaps that is why I am not afraid to share these thoughts, even though I know that many people would initially disagree.

I strongly feel that the only way to enable this country to evolve into a land where every man, woman, child, and visitor is safe is to amend our founding document, the Constitution. Why do I feel like the only one who is saying these words—“amend the Constitution”? Why are people so terrified of these words? It’s time to speak them. It needs to be said, because the time has come to amend the Constitution. I realize that my international experience has probably influenced my way of thinking (about 10 yrs in Sweden and 3 in China); but I am glad that it has. The fact of the matter is, I felt safer than anywhere else when I lived in China, much safer than in the US, and I think an international perspective is necessary in order to view the problem of gun violence objectively. (See articles, below).

Countless people cite their Constitutional right to own a gun based on this document, as if they believe it is set in stone. It is, however, a living document, one that has been amended several times throughout our country’s great history. Women now have the right to vote, for example, and slavery is now prohibited, thanks to changes throughout the years. When the Constitution was written in the late 1700s, and the 2^nd Amendment, the United States was a very different place than it is today. Peter Bergen, CNN National Security Analyst, writes: "The Second Amendment is, of course, very much part of the American fabric. But the intent of the founders was that the amendment protected the rights of citizens to bear arms in a militia for their collective self-defense. Today, we are not likely to need to organize local militias for our defense now we have something called the Pentagon." (See link to his excellent article, below).

 

Also, the guns to which the Constitution refers were much larger, simpler weapons; there was no police force for protection and the people wanted to ensure they could protect their families by themselves. This was a noble thought, but one that has since been twisted as desperate people cling through ignorance to their belief that only a gun will bring them security. Who can honestly believe that our Founding Fathers would be happy or proud if they knew what had become of our country now—the country with the most deaths by guns in the entire world? Compare, for example, to Japan, with almost no gun deaths at all, in the interesting article below.
In this current situation, there is no way to keep guns out of the hands of those would use them to harm others, such as the mentally ill or criminal. The shooter in Connecticut, even if he would have been deemed mentally ill and therefore not been able to purchase a gun, simply would have done just as he did, taken the two weapons that were already there in his own home through his mother, and used them.

Once and for all, amend the Constitution.  It has been done before to better our nation, and it is time now again. Amend the Constitution so that guns may only be found in military and law enforcement, except clearly registered hunters with hunting rifles, who must keep them much more carefully locked up (such as in Sweden).

Only when this happens will desperate parents finally be able to breathe a collective sigh of relief, because finally they will be able to send their little children to school again without the pain of fear in their hearts. Finally, malls, streets, nursing homes, street corners, and all other public places will be free. No more will convenience store owners be terrified every time a person opens the door at night. I do not mean that violence will magically disappear after guns are confiscated; of course not. We need to work to deal with long-term solutions to poverty, hunger, isolation, depression, mental illness, and drug and alcohol use that can lead to violence, since violence will still be present. But without guns, the desperate, angry, or mentally ill people will not be able to so swiftly and horrifyingly slaughter so many people. Had the killer in the Connecticut shooting only had access to knives, for example, he certainly could still have managed to kill his own mother and perhaps injure a few people at the school, and that would have been very sad. But certainly many of the precious lives lost, those of the “beautiful children” as President Obama tearfully stated, would have been saved.

~~~~~~

I recommend these interesting articles: Here is an excellent opinion article which brings up the fact that the US gun problem is actually a national security issue with a lot of thought-provoking statistics. Read it!

 Article comparing Japan (with almost no gun deaths) to the US (countless deaths)

And also this one, simply a chart over gun-related homicides in the developed world, also through the Washington Post

And finally, an opinion article from the NYTimes