Speed Dating 101

 

 

OK, I’m willing to admit I tried it.  I am a fan of the Sex and the City HBO series, and a particularly funny episode included Miranda giving speed dating a try.  It is also a scene in the Will Smith movie Hitch.   (Speed dating goes by several names, including Multi-dating and Pre-dating).  I went for three reasons, ok maybe 4, and with a friend.  The reasons:  it was a Wednesday, and I had nothing else to do; I was support for my friend and she for me; I thought it might be entertaining; and, I might actually meet someone interesting.

For $25 we met 13 people, and we had 6 minutes to speak with each person in rotation.  The gathering was supposed to be for professional singles aged 41 to 52.  I am right in the middle of that range, as well as my friend.  We arrived a little early and each had a glass of wine to loosen us up.  It was the first experience of speed dating for both of us.

The participants were quite varied, although three IT managers were there, and the ages were all across the board.  As a matter of fact, we estimated that one or two might have been outside the age range, and I’m talking the upper range.  As the evening progressed and I “interviewed” more participants, it did become easier.  Also, the second glass of wine really helped to loosen me up.  Possibly a bit too much.  I found myself throwing caution to the wind and saying things I probably wouldn’t have said had I been one on one with a single individual for the evening.  I had a list of questions in my head that I had planned to ask, but soon found myself off script.  Jotting them down for reference would have been helpful.  So here are my rules for Speed Dating, now that I have actually tried it:

1.  If you are still in the midst of a divorce, maybe you should wait.  One participant said he was going through a divorce, dated my friend, and it came out later that papers had not even been filed yet and he was still living in the house.  Give it a few months, at least.  That time alone can be valuable.

2.  Don’t say you own an Aston Martin if you don’t.  I ended up with a few get-togethers from the evening.  I come for a “gearhead” family and am a Top Gear junkie.  I know the difference between a Jaguar and an Aston Martin.  The Aston Martin DBS happens to be my dream car.  So don’t tell me you have an Aston Martin and show up for a date driving a Jaguar.

3.  If you are asked the question “Do you have children”, it is definitely a “yes” or “no” answer.  If you hesitate or have to think about it, you are lost.  Come clean, spit it out, and get it over with.  If you have kids and you aren’t willing to admit it or aren’t proud of them, then first impressions at speed dating is the least of your concerns.

4.  You should look the part, within reason.  One participant claimed to spend most of his spare time at the gym, but that was hard to believe as buttons were straining to hold in all his assets.

It turned out to indeed be entertaining.  My friend is very outgoing, sweet, and bubbly, and she of course left that evening with someone’s phone number, not even waiting for the event results.  I expected that.  I did not expect myself to end the evening actually interested in two people.  But that was the end result.  I have followed up on the two individuals, and can say with all sincerity, that one of them is quite interesting and I will pursue at least a friendship.  For myself, I think I should have stopped at one glass of wine.  The second made me much more chatty than I usually am with strangers.  Also, I would advise anyone attending an event such as this to take notes.  I truly believed I didn’t need notes, but at the end of the evening I was having difficulty putting names with faces and ended up using nicknames to refer to the individuals, such as “the shoe fetish guy” for example, and yes, there was someone there that fit that description.  I don’t think I will go to another event, but if you are curious, by all means, give it a try.  I was very glad to have support and would encourage attending with a friend.  We were able to compare notes on the drive home, between outbursts of laughter.

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A Dog’s Life

Getting ready for their walk in the woods.

At this point in my life, I find myself dogless.  The greatest dog in the world was my best friend for 12 1/2 years.  He passed away 5 years ago.  Since then, I have been without a dog.  I love dogs, so it is always fun to visit my mother and her two dogs, a Scottie named Rupert, and a Labrador named Chloe.  This visit to Oregon coincided perfectly with a sister’s vacation, so when I landed in Portland, I picked up her car and her Border Collie Phoebe and headed for the coast.  This would be a three dog week for me and a vacation in the country for Phoebe. 

A walk in the woods.

The dogs love their walks in the woods.  Each morning we headed out for a short walk in the fields, and on some days we did a longer walk in the woods. 

Rupert headed somewhere with a purpose. So typically Scottie.

Oregon is a dog friendly state, with most, if not all, beaches open for dogs.  We took a three dog trip out to the jetty near Astoria, where the Columbia river meets the Pacific.  It was a weekday and in one spot we had the beach all to ourselves.  It was typical beach day in Oregon, windy, and requiring and requiring a light jacket. 

Me and the dogs at the jetty beach near Astoria. Chloe is an older girl, but she does a great job of keeping up. We adopted her from the local animal shelter several years ago when her age was estimated to be 9 or 10.

A wide open beach near the South Jetty close to Astoria.  We had the beach all to ourselves.

The dogs love living in the country, and Phoebe loves her visits to Grandma’s place.

Rupert keeping an eye on the valley.

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Yes You Can Go Home Again (at least to visit and eat well).

My mother's home, our "homestead". Photo taken August 2011.

Luckily, I got the opportunity to visit Oregon again for a week this August.  If you live in Florida, a week-long visit to a cooler climate is highly appreciated in the hottest months of August and September, while August in Oregon is one of the few months that you can be guaranteed good weather.  I travel to Oregon to visit my family and our homestead.  My mother lives in the house that her parents bought on February 19th, 1927 for the amount of $3000.  The house on 10 acres was built in 1917 by a Norwegian, we think his name was Arndt Adolfson. 

My mother's home, photo taken some time between 1926 and 1937,

The original house had no bathroom and very few closets.  There were many outbuildings though, including a woodshed, a garage, an outhouse, and later, my grandpa built a smoke house.  My mother remembers her father doing some remodeling, including turning the back porch into a bathroom in the late 1930s, adding a new back porch, and a redo of the kitchen in 1941.   My mother grew up here, and later my siblings and I grew up here too.  There is an old school-house, built in 1899, on the one acre above our house where my mother’s older brother attended grades 1 through 6.  Recently, my mother had an unexpected visitor, the grandson of the people who first owned the house.  He was delighted to see the original deed and the old black and white photos my mother keeps. 

The upstairs southern facing room in the old house.

Looking into the valley from the upstairs window.

Most of the families in this area have been here for generations, and everybody knows everyone else.  My mother still sees the “kids” from her school class.  I love to visit this part of Oregon, and enjoy the memories that come back.  The valleys along the Columbia river are beautiful and green, and the Oregon beaches are wild and rugged.  It was a wonderful place to grow up.  My mother’s home is not far from the Columbia River, and as kids we would go to Aldrich Point and swim and play in the river.  The water feels terribly cold to me now.

Aldrich Point, a spot along the Columbia River, not far from my mother's home.

Besides visiting with family and seeing the homestead, another reason I travel to Oregon is my mother’s cooking and the very good local food.  Oregon is known for its wine country now too, in the Willamette Valley.  It is like coming home and being a kid again.  My mother cooks my favorite things, including;  salmon soup, Korva Puustit (Finnish rolls), open face shrimp sandwiches, applesauce from our own apples, artisan bread, and swedish pancakes.  We always stop at Josephson’s Fish Market for smoked salmon, and no visit to Oregon is complete without Dungeness Crab.

Dungeness crab.

My mother's salmon soup.

My mother’s Salmon Soup recipe (aka, food for the gods):

2 tblsp. butter

1 large onion, finely chopped

1 small leek, washed and finely sliced

1 stalk celery, finely sliced

2 tblsp. flour

3 cups water

1 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice

12 ounces fresh salmon fillets

2 cups whole milk

1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg

1/2 tsp ground ginger

salt and white pepper

1/2 cup chopped fresh dill

Melt the butter in a heavy, 4-quart saucepan.  Add the onion, leek, and celery and saute over medium heat for 2 minutes, stirring constantly.  Mix in the flour.  Add the water and lemon juice and simmer, stirring occasionally, until lightly thickened.  Cut the fish into thin slices if it is uncooked.  (My mother poaches fillets for a few minutes to facilitate skin removal, and then uses the poaching water for the  3 cups of water in the recipe).  Add the fish and the milk to the pot and heat through but do not boil.  Add the nutmeg and ginger.  Season with salt and white pepper.  Ladle into soup plates and sprinkle with lots of fresh dill.

There is still somewhat of a barter system between some of the locals here.  My mother makes applesauce from the Yellow Transparent tree in her yard, so we traded applesauce for the chance to pick blueberries from her friend Charlotte’s garden.

 
 

Picking blueberries in Charlotte's garden..Picking peas in Jon's garden.

 
 
 
Most of our acreage is hay fields, but we don’t have the equipment to make hay.  So we trade the hay for fresh vegetables and sometimes fish too.  One night for dinner we had fresh Ling Cod cheeks, Brownsmead peas, and potatoes.  The peas and potatoes we harvested at 4 pm from Jon Westerholm’s garden, a neighbor and long time friend of my mothers, and the brother of the man who gets our hay.   We were eating the peas and potatoes by 6:30 for dinner.  It was a locavore “farm dinner” for sure.  The peas were fabulous.
 

Picking peas.

Brownsmead peas.

Jon Westerholm in his garden in Brownsmead.

Digging potatoes.

Shelling peas.

Our local "farm dinner" of Ling Cod cheeks, brownsmead peas and potatoes.

We made a trip into Astoria one day, and had lunch at Pier 39.  Some of the old fish canning buildings on the piers have been refurbished into brew houses, coffee shops, and on Pier 39, a Fisherman’s Museum.  We had lunch at Coffee Girl right along the river.

This boat is part of the Fisherman's Museum in the old cannery building on Pier 39 in Astoria, Oregon.

Lunch at Coffee Girl on Pier 39.

Sea lions on the docks near Pier 39 in Astoria.

Local seafood, including my favorite, Dungeness Crab.

My mother belongs to the Finnish Brotherhood, and sometimes brings home-made Korva Puustit to their meetings.  She makes them for us kids when we come to visit.  We know Korva is “ear” in Finnish, but are unsure of the meaning of Puustit.

Here is the recipe:

2 packages active dry yeast

1 cup warm water

1/2 cup melted butter

1/2 cup sugar

3 slightly beaten eggs

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 – 3 teaspoons ground cardamom

4 1/2 to 5 cups flour

Filling:  1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

raisins, currents, apricots (whatever you like)

Glaze:  1 slightly beaten egg

2 tablespoons milk

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in the warm water and let stand 5 minutes.  Stir in 1/2 cup melted butter, 1/2 cup sugar, the eggs, salt, cardamom, and 4 1/2 cups flour until dough is smooth.  Cover and refrigerate for 3 to 4 hours.  Sprinkle board with some of the remaining flour.  Divide dough into 2 parts.  Turn out onto the lightly floured board, and roll each part out to make a rectangle about 12 inches by 24 inches long. 

Making Korva Puustit

 

Spread each half with butter and sprinkle with half the sugar and cinnamon.  Roll up, starting from a 24-inch side. 

My mom uses raisins, and sometimes dried apricots in her Korva Puustit.

Cut each roll diagonally into 12 pieces.  Each piece will be about 1/2 inch on one side and 3 inches thick on the other. 

With two thumbs, press down in the middle of the side of each roll.  In so doing the two cut edges will be forced upward.  The rolls will resemble two “ears”. 

Place cinnamon ears on lightly greased baking sheets.  Let rise until puffy.  Mix the egg and milk to make a glaze.  Brush rolls with the glaze. 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, watching constantly.

The finished product, Korva Puustit, perfect with coffee in the morning.

 
As much as I love to eat Korva Puustit, they still can’t compete with Swedish pancakes.

My mother's Swedish pancakes.

 
We also visited my favorite beach in Oregon, Indian Beach, next to Ecola State Park.  It is very near my favorite little beach town of Cannon Beach.  We were very lucky and had a gorgeous sunny and warm day at the beach.  Anyone from Oregon knows this is a rare occasion.  The water was still cold though, cold enough to make wading ankle-deep the extent of my water activity.  Indian Beach has wonderful tide pools on either end of the beach, and mounds of beautiful rocks.

Indian Beach, Ecola State Park, Oregon

The rocks and tide pools on the southern end of the beach.

  

 
 

Me and my mom at Indian Beach

My mother makes a truly delicious artisan bread.  We have become so spoiled with this fresh bread that ordinary bread is almost unpalatible.  We made open-faced shrimp sandwiches with the fresh bread.
My mother’s artisan bread.

Open faced shrimp sandwich.

Oregon wine.

I have to admit that it sounds as though my mother was chained to the stove and I was a glutton for all the fresh food.  I did however trade manual labor for her cooking, and I did do all the driving!

My 1946 Chevy pickup.

When I left Oregon for Florida in 1986, I was unable to take with me one large item; my 1946 Chevy pickup.  It was the first vehicle I ever purchased and had titled in my name.  So, 32 years later, it still sits in my father’s garage.  The sunny weather inspired me to wash and photograph the old truck.  It is a classic, and restored with original parts only.  With a few minor mechanical adjustments (a transmission and a battery), it will be running again soon.

This past year in Oregon was rather cool and rainy.  They didn’t get much of a Spring and Summer only just arrived.  August really is the best month to visit if you are looking for sunny weather.

Postcard of Cannon Beach Oregon (2008 NW Art Mall, Inc. Gresham, OR).

http://www.traveloregon.com/

http://farmtoforkevents.com/

Posted in Childhood memories, Family, U.S.A. | 2 Comments

Happy July 4th, from St. Petersburg, FL

I have left Michigan behind and am back in my adopted home town of St. Petersburg, Florida.  St. Petersburg celebrates two holidays with a very good fireworks show, New Years Eve and July 4th.  They did not disappoint last night.  I parked near the USF campus and walked past the new Dali Museum towards The Pier, a good vantage point for the fireworks.

The new Dali Museum is right on the downtown waterfront, next to the Mahaffey Theater.

The St. Petersburg Pier, a good spot to watch the fireworks. The Pier houses shops, an aquarium and several restaurants.

The downtown St. Petersburg fireworks, photographed from The Pier.

 

 

 

The Pier, at night. The exterior has an ever changing light show of its own, from yellow, to green, blue, red and pink.

 

The new Dali Museum at night. It is in a beautiful location with grass terraces and a grove of lighted trees.

The Dali Museum entrance at night.

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70 Years of Grace and Beauty

My mother in 1941 (left), and my mother 70 years later in 2011. The same bunny, Peter, and the same lilac bush.

During my most recent visit home to Oregon, my mother allowed me to recreate a photo taken of her on Easter Sunday, 1941, when she was six years old.  She stood in the same spot in front of her lilac bush holding the same Peter Rabbit of 70 years ago.  I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been raised by two wonderful people, my mother and father.  (Three actually, as my mother’s mother lived with us and part of her is in all of us).  My childhood memories are happy and full of love and caring.  My mother introduced us to music, art and literature.  She would argue this, but she is a talented artist.  She sends handmade cards of her own drawings.  Here are some of her original watercolors.

This was painted by my mother as a Christmas card, and sent to Norway to my father's parents. On the back of the painting my mother wrote: "This is the view from our window. I painted this this morning - Dec. 19th. The yellow house way up on the mt. is 'Silcox Hut' where Kaare operates the Sno-Cat from. Chair lift is to the right."

A portrait of my dad, painted by my mother.

 

My mother’s sketch of the Røldal Stavkirke in Norway.

 

This is one of my favorite photos of my mother when she was little, with her mother.

A portrait of my parents, taken in 1957. They were married in 1956.

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Happy Father’s Day, and I hope you like your elephant.

Milk Rush, by Angela Sheldrick; from the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust website.

There comes a point in many people’s lives where they don’t need any more stuff.  My parents, and myself too for that matter, have reached that point.  For birthdays and other gift giving holidays, they don’t  expect or want us to give them stuff.  Being told that you are loved and appreciated is a far better gift to receive than soap or ______ (fill in the blank).

One year for Christmas my family made donations to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary (http://www.bestfriends.org/)  instead of giving gifts to each other.  I have done something similar this year to honor my dad for Father’s Day.  A baby elephant, Shukuru, has been sponsored in my dad’s name, at a very special foundation, The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust.  http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/index.asp

Since 1977, the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust has been helping save the lives of baby elephants and rhinos as well as many other conservation programs in Kenya.  Their website has a list of all the elephants available for sponsorship, and a description of the other good works they do, such as the de-snaring program and mobile veterinary unit .  A recently released film, Born To Be Wild, shows much of what they do in an entertaining IMAX 3D story.

This is one of the elephants in the very first wild herd I saw in Tanzania.

I don’t know why, but I have always been fascinated by elephants.  The first wild elephants I saw were in Tanzania in 2007.  I was surprised by how silently they moved, covering a long distance in a short amount of time.  My sister and I were in a safari jeep on a dirt road, and we watched them appear on the horizon on our right, cross the road in front of us, and disappear off to the horizon on our left.  You could hear them rumbling and speaking to each other.  It was captivating.

Elephants crossing the road in Tanzania in 2007.

 

Elephant dust bath, Tanzania 2007.

 

Botswana 2011.

Me and Jabu at the "Living with Elephants" Foundation in Botswana.

Elephant closeup.

Happy Father’s Day Dad.  I love you, and I hope you like your elephant!

Tusk Bearers of Tomorrow, a watercolor by Angela Sheldrick; from The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust website

My dad, taken in Norway, I believe some time around 1940.

My dad, with early evidence of his lifelong love of cars.

 

My dad and my little brother on his first birthday.

 

My dad with the five of us, and our beloved horse Molly.

Me and my dad.

Father's Day celebration 2008.

Posted in Family, Seasons & Holidays | 5 Comments

Is it possible to love a car?

BMW Z3 with a 3.0 engine and 5 speed stick shift.
 I think the answer is yes, you can love a car.  The car I love is not new and exotic, and I didn’t really know I loved the car until last week.  I drove it to a car dealer with every intention of trading it in on a newer, much more exotic and truly iconic sports car.  One of the true super cars.  When it came right down to it, I couldn’t go through with it.  I couldn’t part with this little sports car that I have owned for over 10 years.  I don’t know if it is our history together, or just that it is such a cute and fun car.  I didn’t get the super car and will no doubt own this little BMW for another 10 years.

I drove myself to my USF graduation ceremony in this car.

 I come from a car family.  We did not have boats and didn’t go boating, but we did love cars and attend swap meets, car shows, and car auctions.  I inherited my love of cars from my dad.  I couldn’t say how many cars he has owned in the past 70 years, but he could.  He could tell you the year, make, and model of each car, and a story about each one too.  Like almost every family, we have some inside family jokes.  One of these jokes is “the pose.”  It started with my dad, years ago, when he was still in Norway.  Over the years we have photographic evidence of “the pose”, and it passed down to us kids from him.

First evidence of "the pose"

"The pose" comes to the US on a Timberline snocat.

My oldest sister modifies "the pose" in front of her truck.

Another sister shows her version of "the pose" with her 1953 Chevy pickup.

I adapt "the pose" to aviation, first with a helicopter...

...and later in seaplanes.

 

My brother really breaks with tradition here in this photo of his recent Jaguar purchase.

 

"The pose" endures, after all these years.

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Memorial Day Weekend in Oregon: Lessons in genealogy and a vineyard horseback ride.

Welcome to Astoria

With 5 days off from work, I headed to Oregon for the Memorial Day weekend and my sister Katy’s birthday.  It was typical spring weather in Oregon, mostly cloudy skies with brief moments of heavy rain, followed by patches of sun, and temperatures between 50 and 60 degrees.  My mother lives near Astoria, at the mouth of the Columbia River.

The Astoria Bridge, taken from the Astoria Column.

The bridge under construction. My uncle took this photo.

The Astoria Bridge links Oregon and Washington over the Columbia River.

 

For me, every visit to Astoria requires a stop at Josephson’s Smoked Fish store where you can purchase the best fresh smoked spring chinook salmon in the country.  It is truly food for the gods.  A very close runner up for the title of best local delicacy is Dungeness crab.

Josephson's Smoked FIsh store in Astoria, Oregon.

We made the required stop enroute to the Ocean View Cemetery in Clatsop County Oregon.  My mother’s parents and her maternal grandmother (my great-grandmother) rest in peace at this cemetery near the Pacific Ocean, and each Memorial Day we visit to place flowers on their graves.  My mother’s mother’s mother who lies here, Hanna Johnson, immigrated to the US from Sweden in 1890.  We try to keep the grave stones clean and decorated with flowers, and the memories fresh.  My mother’s brother is here as well.

The Oceanview Cemetary on Memorial Day weekend.

Ocean View Cemetary, Clatsop County, Oregon

My great-grandmother Hanna Johnson is remembered with rhododendrons and birch branches.  I have been to Ellis Island in New York and found the documents and passenger logs of her arrival in the US.

The following day we made another Memorial Day stop at the Prairie Cemetary in Knappa Oregon.  This cemetery is where my mother’s Aunt Hedvig lies (born here in the US in 1896, their first child) along with her parents Able and Katrina, my mother’s grandparents on her father’s side.  This is the Katrina for whom my sister was named, and whose birthday I had come to Oregon to celebrate.

Able Hepo-Oja  (my mother’s paternal grandfather) immigrated to the US with his wife Katrina.  He was born in Pulkkila, Oulu (the province) Finland, Sept. 12, 1863, 100 years before my own birth.  His wife, Katrina Sohviia Ranta-Junttila, was born in Vihanti, Finland, April 25, 1870.  Their children (my grandfather Oney and great-aunt Hedvig) were born here in the US.  Another child, born in 1900, died at the age of one year, and was buried in a small grave near their home.  My mother can still locate the gravesite and small marker in the woods near her home.  Katrina died on her 50th wedding anniversary, Oct. 20th 1944.  It was nice to visit their resting places and hear the stories my mother remembered.  They were my great-grandparents and I fear the memories will be lost if they aren’t written down.

My mother places flowers on the graves of her paternal grandparents.

The main purpose for my visit to Oregon this weekend was to celebrate my sister’s birthday.  She requested that we all join her in a Willamette Valley wine tasting tour and lunch on horseback.  The Willamette Valley is now a wine destination, which we have toured many times, but never on horseback.  She read about this experience in an article in Sunset Magazine.   The operator, Equestrian Wine Tours, and Jake Price Stables of Carlton, Oregon made it all very simple.  We arrived at the appointed vineyard at 11 am and met Jake and wrangler Sarah with the saddled horses.  The ride was short, but it was fun to arrive at the tasting rooms and then our picnic lunch on horseback.  Longer rides are available for those comfortable at all paces.  http://www.equestrianwinetours.com/

My brother, two sisters, my mother and myself on the vineyard ride.

The Big Deal, my stead for the vineyard lunch tour, a former 3 year old grand champion.

The lunch was fabulous and my mother’s return-to-the-saddle inspired grin made the entire day worth while.

The lunch is served outside at one of the wineries, with the horses in the background.

My sisters enjoy wine tasting at the White Rose Winery.

The White Rose Estate is located in Dayton, Oregon:  http://www.whiteroseestate.com/

My mother was happy to be back in the saddle,

It is a somewhat rare occasion that we can all get together for a family portrait.

Sure, it would have been nice to have warm sunny weather for the entire weekend, but then it wouldn’t be Oregon, and it wouldn’t be as green as it is.  The lilacs were in bloom, which was the icing on the cake for this visit.

Lilacs in bloom at my mother's house.

Posted in Family, Oregon, Seasons & Holidays, U.S.A. | Leave a comment

Spring Flowers

 

Unable to be with my family in Oregon this Easter, I took a walk around the neighborhood here in Michigan, where I saw the first signs of Spring.

Happy Easter
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Happy Easter, Happy Spring

 
Jesus painting, circa 1900
 
It is Spring in Michigan, at least by the calendar.  So far in April, we have had one day with two inches of snow, and one day of 85 degrees.  April in Michigan is unpredictable.  This Sunday is Easter, one of the holiest days in the Christian faith.  It is a day to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ.  But before the time of Jesus, at this time of year the ancient Saxons celebrated the pagan goddess of spring and offspring, Eastre.   The goddess Eastre’s earthly symbol was the hare.  Eastre’s hare became the Easter bunny.  The egg, in most early cultures, signified birth and resurrection.  The Roman’s had a proverb:  Omne vivum ex ovo, “All life comes from an egg” (Panati’s, 1987, p. 56).  The church and its missionaries turned ancient festivals and rituals into Christian observances.  Commercialism has turned these days of faith into sales opportunities.  Today you will see more images of bunnies and colored eggs than of Christ rising from the grave.

God Pask! card from Sweden.  Illustration by Jenny Nystrom.

I received a God Pask! postcard from my cousin Laila in Sweden, and an Easter card from my mother.  The Easter card my mother sent included a photo of her taken on Easter Day 1941.  She is standing in front of a lilac bush holding Peter Rabbit.  70 years later, the woman, the lilac bush, and Peter Rabbit are still in the same place.  We recreated this photo in the same spot a few years ago.  Peter Rabbit is a little worse for the wear but my mother looks just as good.  That same lilac bush blooms every year around Mothers Day.

My mother, Easter 1941

When we were little, in the 1960s, my mother would dress us in our Sunday best, complete with hats and gloves, and take us to Easter Sunday church service.  We also colored eggs and woke up to find Easter baskets full of candy.

Easter Sunday, 1966 or 1967. From left to right; my sisters Katrina, Kristine and Rebecca, myself, and my brother Nick.

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