Om att hitta modet till att göra nåt


Tusentals människor räddade, människor på flykt från sitt eget land, människor vars valda politiker tycker att de är äckliga, smutsiga och besudlar stadsbilden. Människor som ska rensas från gatorna, spottas på, sparkas ned och brännas upp.

Dessa människor räddade Raoul Wallenberg. Raoul, en 30-ish-årig snubbe från Stockholm som pluggat arkitektur och kört några terminer i USA. Han ville göra nåt bra för mänskligheten, göra skillnad, och fann sig plötsligt i en situation där det blev möjligt. Raoul var otroligt modig. Samtidigt som han troligtvis inte tänkte på sig själv som ”Raoul Wallenberg – den svenska diplomaten som skyddade och gömde judar från koncentrationslägren”. Han var ju bara Raoul. Jag tänker på hur Raoul skulle ha varit om han var med oss idag, i sitt 30-åriga jag. Skulle han ha instagrammat nån snygg bild från någon mottagning på USA:s ambassad, för att få oss följare att fråga var han höll hus. Hashtag champagne. Hashtag diplomati. Hashtag toughlifebutsomeonesgottadoit, för att få oss att nyfiket ställa frågor. Kanske skulle han ha mappat sig på kartan @AmericanEmbassy så att han kunde svara att han hade en liten tête-à-tête med Generalkonsuln? Kanske skulle han ha postat en bild på Facebook av en tiggare utanför T-baneuppgången Östermalmstorg, ni vet där vid Friday’s, med den allmänt riktade frågan “Hur blev det såhär?”. Continue reading

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Snuvad på konfekten? Eller åtminstone kaffet som hörde därtill…


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Varje gång du betalar med kort i affären, vilket jag förmodar numera är regel snarare än undantag, gör du en liten förlust. Eller kanske rentutav en liten vinst. Det är det här som jag har gått och funderat lite på. Det förlorade kaffet kommer jag till sen 🙂

Sverige är nog idag ett av de få länder i världen som inte (längre) har mynt att representera ören. De flesta andra länder har ju någon form av cents, i vissa fall av betydande värde, i andra fall tycks de nästan bara vara symboliska. Dock har vi ju fortfarande priser som sätts i hela kronor och ören, varpå mängden av varor vi köper avgör hur mycket av de där örena vi faktiskt kommer att betala. Eller inte. Betalar vi med kort så dras ju den exakta summan från kortet, med precisa ören. Betalar vi däremot med kontanter rundas ju summan av till närmaste hel krona. Har summan hamnat på någonting med hela kronor och upp till och med 49 öre så slipper vi ju betala örena. Kostar det däremot någonting med 50 öre och uppåt 99 blir vi ju skyldiga att betala alla de där örena, och kanske några extra, till dess att det bildar en hel krona (grundläggande matematik: <49 öre rundas nedåt, >50 rundas uppåt).

Om en var riktigt noga med att spara pengar, och hade tiden och intresset nog, borde en ju alltid se till att välja betalsätt, kort eller kontanter, beroende på vad summan av köpet var: Kontanter vid köp av varor för <49 öre, och kort vid köp av varor för >50 öre. Men den tiden har en förstås inte, och är det så att vi förlorar några ören här och där genom att inte välja klokt så är det kanske ett okej pris att betala för bekvämligheten att slippa tänka på att alltid ha kontanter till hands och slippa behöva fatta sekundsbeslutet om vilket betalmedel som ska användas när en står där i Coop-kassan och är redo att attackera Kexchokladen i brist på färdigserverad middag.

Jag undrar dock, i slutändan, om jag gjort flest vinster eller förluster den dagen jag slutar handla. Och vilka summor det egentligen rör sig om. Kommer plus och minus i princip ha gått på ett ut. Eller är det en fråga om många bäckar små…?

Jo, kaffet! Bli du också snuvad på gratiskaffet på lunchen?

Äter du lunch ute så ingår ju ofta kaffe på maten. Även sallad, bröd, smör och ibland dryck brukar ju ingå. Men om du väljer att ta med dig lunchen som take away, inte brukar du ta med dig en kopp kaffe också? Det har i alla fall jag aldrig gjort. Hittills. När jag tar med mig maten bruka jag få en liten plastlåda att plocka sallad i från buffébordet, kanske lyckas jag klämma ner en brödskiva där också. Men aldrig har jag frågat om jag kan få en pappersmugg med lock för att också ta med mig kaffet som ingår. Jag tror inte ens att alla restauranger har sådana muggar om de normalt inte säljer ta-med-kaffe, t.ex. som min lokala indier… Men vad händer då om jag vill ta med mig kaffet? Säger de att det inte går? Kan jag pruta ned priset då?

Om en ska tillbaka till kontoret och den gemensamma kaffebryggaren så är väl det en sak. Men om jag ska hem till mig och jobba hemifrån, då måste jag ju göra eget kaffe, det är ju både tidsödande och kostsamt! Ja jösses. Men jag vågar inte fråga.

Min far är bra på att pruta. Han gör det allt som oftast. Och det är okej, faktiskt, även i Sverige. Priser på prislapparna är, faktiskt, oftast bara rekommenderade priser. På El-Giganten köpte han något för flera tusen, jag minns inte exakt vad det var, men en DVD eller en tv eller liknande, och frågade i kassan vad för rabatt expediten kunde ge. Expediten, något överraskad och lite besvärad meddelade att de inte var någon rabatt på varan. Daddy B svarade då trevligt att han mycket väl förstod det, men undrade vad expediten kunde göra för honom. Stackars lilla 90-talisten visste nog inte alls vad han skulle ta sig för när Daddy B lugnt och tålmodigt föreslog andra små varor som han skulle kunna få med på köpet, och det hela slutade med att vi packade ned den stora dyra varan i påsen, tillsammans med en fin potatisskalare á 49kr! Tackar!

Så låt höra! Brukar du ta med dig kaffet på maten? Eller vad var det senaste du prutade på? Inte var det i Sverige månntro…?

From nine to five – and the mystery of the mature greeting


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How do you write the number 9?

Starting in the top right corner with the anti-clockwise balloon followed by a straight line down? Or starting from the base line, working your way upwards on the right in one big mirrored C, turning in on itself toward the end? Perhaps you start from the very center of the figure, moving clock-wise to the left, upwards, reaching the top and continue down in an arrow shaped hand movement until you reach the bottom, as if drawing one circle – right, lower, left, up, right again and then finishing off with a long slide of the hand, getting off track from the original circle shape? That is how I do it. The latter. I write the number 9 starting from right to left, as if writing in Arabic, which I by the way have no skills in doing. But that is not how I was taught.

Only in 7th or 8th grade, after having followed the example of my maths- physics-, chemistry- and gym teacher Mr. Å, did I switch to this much more simple and swift way of writing a nine. I saw him do those nines on the white board and it made all the calculations look so much easier! I tried it. Being 13 years old I was no longer forced to use pencils in school, but was, much to my happiness, allowed to use ball point pens, and I figured no one would tell me off for steering away from writing protocol… Continue reading

THE ROUTINE


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WAKE UP – Toothbrush, toothpaste, cotton pads, nail polish remover, shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, deodorant, body lotion, eye cream, facial moisturizer, keratin treatment, brush, hair dryer, heat resisting spray, hair straightener, Moroccan oil, de-frizz hairspray, primer, large make up brush, foundation, small make up brush, concealer, medium make up brush, blush, mascara, mineral veil, lip balm, hand cream, nail file, cuticle oil, base coat, nail polish, top coat, perfume – LIVE – Cotton pads, eye make up remover, facial cleansing gel, cotton pad, tonic water, cotton ear buds, eye cream, facial moisturizer, lip balm – SLEEP.

And that’s just a regular day.

So add a little extra every now and then:

WAKE UP – Toothbrush, toothpaste, plastic gloves, hair colour, shower cap, body scrub, cotton pads, nail polish remover, shampoo, conditioner, deep conditioner, shower gel, foot file, deodorant, tampon, body lotion, foot cream, face mask, eye cream, facial moisturizer, keratin treatment, nail clipper, brush, hair dryer, heat resisting spray, hair straightener, Moroccan oil, de-frizz hairspray, primer, large make up brush, foundation, small make up brush, concealer, medium make up brush, blush, eye liner, dark eye shadow, light eye shadow, highlighter, mascara, eye lash curler, mineral veil, lip balm, lip gloss, hand cream, nail file, cuticle oil, base coat, nail polish, top coat, perfume – LIVE – Cotton pads, eye make up remover, facial cleansing gel, face exfoliation, cotton pad, tonic water, cotton ear buds, eye cream, facial moisturizer, sanitary pad, lip balm – SLEEP.

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FIFTY – Weekly Writing Challenge


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“Have another cookie!”, he said with that content smile of his, arms happily up in the air. But something in his raised eyebrows, tensed forehead and closed fists made me doubt his sincerity. Perhaps he wanted that last cookie all to himself? Was his belly not that satisfied after all?

 


For the original prompt which inspired me to write this post, please visit The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing Challenge, where guest blogger Vincent Mars introduces the challenge of writing a 50-words-story. No more, no less. Exactly 50. What a brilliant idea!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Reflections


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For The Daily Post‘s Weekly Photo Challenge I looked through my photos from Cambodia because I knew I had a great picture of the Angkor Wat temples at dawn, reflecting clearly in the waters between them and me with a bright yet soft peachy pink backdrop. But as I was about to pick the photo I had intended I browsed through these others photos that yet again caught my eye. I soon realized that this photo of the tree much more represented the meaning of “reflections” to me.

So for this Weekly Photo Challenge I chose to represent not the literal reflections of an object in say water, but rather the moment of reflection that comes to me when I look at this photo. How nature is greater than us all, and even though we humans directly and indirectly destroy nature, it is so powerful and has its course. These buildings are from the 1100’s, and trees which are older than those constructions completely reclaim their space which was intended for them, growing their roots as it was set out in their DNA, yet somehow manage to coexist with these man-made buildings.

A reflection upon mankind’s coexistence with nature.

Choosing the Perfect Blog Name: Paper and Salt


A bright pink picture with an embossed leaf.

This is the desktop of my mind

I love this interview below with Nicole Villeneuve, the author of the blog Paper and Salt. The name Paper and Salt is so pretty and that is what caught my attention to continue reading the interview. The name rolls nicely on the tongue and I see it, just like the ladies having tea in her picture, in black and white. It’s delicate somehow, it’s as if I can hear the crisp sound of a good quality old page being turned in a book… Beautiful!

A few months ago I started my own blog Stockholm Serendipity. I love the word serendipity, for its meaning and also for the way it sounds and look on paper. I knew I wanted my blog name to include a city which I identify with, which for different reasons would be Stockholm, London, New York City or Tokyo. Stockholm Serendipity was a perfect match! To my eyes, my ears and my tongue. And my mind 🙂

If you want to read my blog post on how my thoughts were going about the name serendipity, you can find it here https://stockholmserendipity.wordpress.com/2014/01/17/on-the-topic-of-serendipity/ I’d love to hear your comment, and perhaps an insight into how you yourself came up with your blog name?

Happy reading!

The Daily Post

From Talking Covers to The Importance of Being Serbian, we always enjoy hearing from bloggers about the clever names they come up with for their blogs. Today, we’re chatting with Nicole Villeneuve, who writes about food and literature over at Paper and Salt.

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Put a ring on it! No? Put a rock on it? – The story of engagement and what the Hollywood romcom never told you – PART TWO


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PART TWO 

The engagement is broken – what to do with the ring?!

The quandaries after a break-up can be plentiful. Take for instance the who-gets-to-keep-which-friends, that’s a tough cookie! Batter that up with a long-term relationship, perhaps a good portion of engagement or even a big slab of marriage, and you’ll have yourself quite a cracked biscotti to work yourself through. Luckily I’ve never had to take a bite of that myself, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been close enough to others to smell the dough turning burnt.

Another major quandary post engagement-break-up is what to do with the ring. I promised in my previous post PART ONE with the same title as this, that I would investigate the dos and don’ts with the engagement ring after a break up. Well, it’s quite an ethical question, for yourself and your partner, but perhaps sometimes stretching so far as to include the interest of families and friends. I’d say what to do with the ring all depends on the reason for the break up. I’ll write here from the angle of what I’ve nicknamed a Hollywood engagement, where a man proposed to a woman with a (quite expensive) ring, because this is the version that my very good friend Lady L just found herself breaking up from.

Her partner had, much to everyone’s surprised given the recent circumstances, gone down on one knee and proposed to her with an extraordinarily stunning Bulgari ring, price tag in the ballpark of 3 months’ salary.  Some months down the line they mutually agreed to break the engagement and separate, making it a clean and definitive break up this time around. During half a decade they’d been a couple experiencing a life that had taken them on many roller-coasters. We, their friends, as well as they themselves thought numerous of times that they had gone for their last ride, they even left the amusement park all together a few times, so to speak. But they kept on coming back for more rides, even costly ones such as moving in and out with each other, selling and buying etc. So, this mutually agreed break up from the engagement seems like a healthy way forward for both of them, separately. Now, what does Lady L do with the ring?

She is a lady of good taste and naturally she wants to keep it, because it is indeed dazzling. Though given the nature of the ring, an engagement ring to mark the bond between two partners aimed to marry each other, it is no longer suitable for her to wear it. She even asked me if perhaps it would be OK to continue wearing it, just as an amazing piece of jewellery, perhaps on the opposite hand? I bluntly said no. To me that is just immoral. Had your partner died, and you were left unmarried widowed, then yes, be my guest and continue wearing the symbol of your love. However in her case, after a break up from what had been a relationship full of not only complicated love but also various let downs of each other, continue wearing it is for me a big no-no. I mean, did she say yes to the guy or yes to a diamond clad finger…? But then what good will it do laying around in a box in her vanity? None, naturally.

I suggested a decent thing to do was to return it to her ex, given the non-conflict circumstances under which they separated. It would be a humble gesture and a suitable closure of their shared past. That way the guy could also sell the ring and keep the money for some other future expense. Lady L explained to me that she had indeed implied this option to him and he had insisted she’d keep the ring, saying she was worth it. I’m thinking she’s now locked in quite a quandrum. She’s not giving it back because “she is worth it”, and yet she can’t benefit from that worth by having the value boxed up in a drawer in her new studio apartment (apparently the ring’s value seems to decrease as soon as it left the store, much like a car, given it’s a brand piece). Now her options would be to trade the ring for some liquid asset! Sell it, even though at a decreased value, and do something fun or useful for the cash! Should she?

Selling it would be to let her ex down a bit, wouldn’t it? He meant for her to keep it, no matter what – well maybe not after say a case of infidelity – but almost no matter what. As mentioned in my previous post PART ONE, the ring used to function as insurance for the woman, but this was in the olden days when women were less likely to have an income. Now, Lady L makes good money and doesn’t “need” the cash, at least not more than her ex would. So there’s no “insurance” based reason for her to sell it. And even if she did need the cash, there’s always the, less profitable, option of pawning it until your economy becomes stable again and you could buy it back. Only to put it back in that box. I’m a big believer in thing’s functionality. It clogs my mind having tons of stuff around that doesn’t fill any purpose. The purpose can be pure visual enjoyment, like a beautiful ornament, and that’s fine. But to keep things just for the sake of keeping them, that’s not me. I grew up in a crowded 3-bedroom apartment with my other 7 family members. Nowadays I treasure clear open spaces… So I say, sell it, and turn it into useful money. And, no offense, his wishes are no longer her command. If he truly treasures her, he’ll be happy with whatever decision she makes about the ring. Am I right?

Now, lastly, could you ever throw it away? I mean literary getting rid of it by throwing it out the window, flush it down the toilet, or toss it off the cruise ship? I don’t think I would. We’ve seen it plenty of times in Hollywood romcoms, how a woman is wronged by her man and in desperation dramatically pulls the ring off her finger and throws it far away. Perhaps should I find myself in such an awful situation I would react beyond logic, but today, from where I stand, I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would do something so stupid. The ring is yours, the guy has done something terrible to you and all you wish is that he looses his job and never gets a new one, that he always forgets his pin codes even if he’s issued new ones and that his hard drives always and forever crashes (by the way, vengeance actions inspired by awesome Swedish rapper Timbuktu’s lyrics). So why not also turn that fake intended ring into some well deserved cash and spend it like there’s no tomorrow! Or invest it like there’s an even better tomorrow, without him. Hey, why not take that expensive watch of his and sell it too, and use to money to spoil yourself and people you care about, maybe go out dancing. Sort of like dancing on his grave.

Luckily, my friend Lady L needs to do no such thing. She is still in the blissful quandary of keeping a keepsake or turning it into party.

Put a ring on it! No? Put a rock on it? – The story of engagement and what the Hollywood romcom never told you – PART ONE


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PART ONE

Engagement. Not so easy to wrap your head around. And I am not even talking about Eritrean tribes, Maori society or Maya Indians that some people find oh-so-fascinating. I’m talking straightforward Western ways of getting engaged. Traditionally. As it’s done. As in the movies, with a ring and romance and the anticipated wedding. OK, yeah right. It is totally ambiguous this whole engagement business. And I really think it is, of course, just up to each and one to decide for themselves what they want to make out of it. That is – unless you are more interested in what others think of your engagement than what you yourself want it to be.

Hollywood tells us that all women are highly surprised when their boyfriends ask them to marry them. The girls had never thought the thought and it has never been discussed in the relationships. Ask me and I’d tell you it says something about their lack of conversation ability, and maybe thus their incompatibility for marriage? Anyhow, if the girl is lucky she gets a big expensive diamond ring showing the world she is taken and belongs to one man only. Her partner however is free of earmarks and readily available for any sort of, should I say temporary engagements, up until wedding ceremony when the wedding bands are exchanged. Where I come from however, and indeed in other countries and customs, the game goes a bit the other way around.

Couples in Sweden often make joint plans for an engagement, go look at rings together and set a date for when they are going to exchange the rings – yes, both partners get a ring. Many book a trip abroad or decide to do it on a, for them special place, such as a beach or in a restaurant. The rings are often simple bands in white or yellow gold, and are indeed often sold in combo. In the jewelry boutiques where they still label the rings “for women” and “for men”, the man ring tends to be a bit wider in style and the woman ring sometimes have an added little stone set into the very band, to differentiate them a bit. I haven’t done any actual research before writing this blog post, so alas I’m not updated on the development of gender awareness in the jewelry market. It is my hope however, that we have started to move away from the old women/men divide and that each individual in love can buy the ring they want for themselves and/or for their partner without being advertisement-ly pushed toward one or the other style. Getting engaged this way marks both partners as taken, equally devoted and obliged, and on the day of the wedding, traditionally the bride receives a second ring, which appearance’ could resemble her engagement band, upgraded in stones and value, or be a completely different looking ring, with a stand alone larger stone a la Tiffany’s. At the wedding, traditionally the man doesn’t get his finger decorated a second time. This way, the order is the complete opposite from that in the US.

As much as it’s true that not every woman in the US are completely surprised when their future husband pops the question (indeed many couples do talk about marriage and agree on a shared vision for their future!), it is also true that not every couple in Sweden are completely leveled in their life plans together (there have been known to be a number of surprise proposals even in that egalitarian country…!) Regardless of the order in which it is done, the gesture of giving the woman a ring is traditionally much more meaningful than most people in my generation seem to be aware of. It is two-folded really. The ring symbolizes a certain type of ownership, much like handcuffs on a slave. Yes, a bit shocking but true. We all know in the olden days that women were daughters in their family, under the rule of their father, until the day they got married off and instead became the wife of their husband. This is also further supported by the ceremony where a bride’s father “gives her away” to the groom, where she leaves her father’s name behind to become the Mrs. of her new master, the husband.  Wait, wait, wait – don’t’ tell me off as a man hater just yet. I am not. At all. I am very much into traditions and I’ve had the fortune of being to a number of absolutely wonderful weddings in different countries with people of a variety of traditions and faiths. Including the one just described. I love it all and I can see the beauty in it, and I am the first to say that traditions are alive and breathe and constantly change with the way we live them and recreate them. And what meant something 100 years ago could mean something completely different today. That’s what’s so amazing with culture and traditions. I do think it is interesting though to know and understand the root of a tradition, if not to base any serious decisions from them, then at least to have an amazing thought to ponder upon. I believe people try to do things for a reason, and if you or your partner decide to make your engagement or wedding a certain way, I believe it is desirable to at least know why you are doing it in that certain way. So, just to clarify, I am not a hater of weddings or rings or family building or men in general. I tend to love it all.

A little side note to the walking-down-the-aisle-part: The Swedish way of getting married, traditionally in a church, when Swedes were still Christian, was actually for the bride and groom to walk hand-in-hand together down the aisle to the altar. There could be a flower child preparing the walk for them, or an unmarried bridesmaid, only one, who would help the bride with the bouquet. But the ring would be presented by the priest who would give it to the man to put on the woman’s finger. Ring bearer, best man, grooms men, brides maids, maid of honour and father giving his daughter away are all quite new additions to the traditional Swedish wedding. Today it is also becoming increasingly more popular with the American way of going about the ring business with women receiving, expectantly or not, an extravagant engagement ring, and the couple exchange rings at the wedding. It might be a small IKEA-furnished country far far up in the north, but like the rest of the world it is no stranger to adapting American culture 😉

Back to the meaning of the ring. The second reason to give the woman her wedding ring is because it is her insurance. If her husband would do anything inappropriate causing her to having to leave him, she is guaranteed to set off with at least the value of the ring on her finger. That jewel is hers. Maybe more relevant a couple of generations back than it is today, but the married woman is also more likely to loose her income, perhaps because she becomes a stay-at-home-mom, than the married man is to loose his. As you see here the value of the ring is not only meant to cover that juicy tab you and your girls keep on adding to when ordering in Aperol spritzers whilst verbally puking over the memory of that unfaithful ex-husband. It is also intended to cover all those stay-at-home-years of pension saving loss.

So, ladies, either make sure you get a big solid expensive ring, just in case, or better yet, make sure you make yourself some of your own money so in case, universe forbid, you would have to separate from him you got your own two legs to stand own. Preferably in some kick-ass shoes.

***** Dear reader, if you enjoyed this post, check back for Part Two on the same topic! I’ll be investigating the dos and don’ts with the ring after a break-up. Under what circumstances is it OK to keep it, wear it, bin it or sell it? Or would you hand it back or pawn it…?

Vem är du, vem är jag? – Gamla, nya och tillskrivna identiteter


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Igår kväll var jag över hos min syster Mrs. I för lite häng och för att få min välbehövda hjärtedos av hennes barn. Efter en grundlig genomgång av de olika karaktärsdragen för hajar, valar och andra stora vattendjur (”späckhuggare låter för mig relativt läskigt och rovdjursaktigt, men de ser ju ut som gulligt pandafärgade delfiner…?”), och vad som för mig ter sig som en mycket avancerad nivå av Marathon-Schlager-scenombyte, men i Mini-Vs fall mest handlar om att hinna avnjuta så många som möjligt av sina klänningar, satte vi oss och åt tacos. Barnen sjönk så småningom in i fredagsmysläge framför en film medan Mrs. I och jag började prata om… Ja vad pratade vi om egentligen? Identitet? Självuppfattning? En individs olika roller och hur de förändras över tid, adderas eller ersätts?

Jag kastade ett öga på syskonparet som satt i soffan och för en millisekund stannade tanken, precis som den gjort så många gånger förut. Hur kom de hit? För bara ett par år sedan fanns de inte, och nu sitter de där som den mest självklara saken i världen. För dem finns ingen annan verklighet, ingen tidigare sanning än den som nu finns med dem i den. För dem är Mrs. I ”mamma” och det är omöjligt för dem att förstå att ”mamma” inte var ”mamma” för sex år sedan, att hon då var dotter, syster och partner, men inte deras mamma. Även när de blir äldre och förstås förstår själva konceptet av familjebildning och generationer så är det omöjligt för dem att begripa och känna den person som Mrs. I egentligen är, eller var förut, eller kanske är vid sidan om. För hur är det egentligen, behåller vi våra olika identiteter när nya skapas och rör oss emellan dem, eller ersätter vi gamla för de nya? Jag vill gärna tro att identiteter lagras och att mitt arkiv fylls ut allteftersom mitt liv berikas med nya upplevelser, situationer, personer och relationer. Att en viss identitet får ta ett steg åt sidan för att göra rum för en annan. Vad jag också tror är att den identitet jag kan identifiera i mig själv inte riktigt överensstämmer med hur mottagaren uppfattar densamma. Min syster vet att hon är mamma till sina två barn (doh!), hon intar den rollen med dem samtidigt som hon i sitt sinne bara är ”sig själv” så som hon alltid varit, hemma med vår familj, som min syster och som våra föräldrars barn. Det häftiga är att Maxi-V och Mini-V inte har nån aning om, och aldrig kommer att kunna inse, vem denna ”själv” egentligen är.

Medan jag fortsatte att på ett tämligen maniskt eller kanske slentrianmässigt sätt stoppa nachos med systers hemmagjorda guacamole i munnen, trots att magen redan var full av middag, ledde våra funderingar plötsligt in på nästa generation, eller snarare den tidigare generationen, våra föräldrar. Mrs. I utbrister att samma fenomen ju gäller för oss syskon, att vi trots vår vetskap om mamma och vår moster och hur de växte upp med våra morföräldrar, egentligen inte riktigt kan haja vem mamma egentligen, allt som oftast, genomsyrande och från början, känner sig som. Det är tanken, den som en har inombords som ingen annan kan komma åt, som är den enda som kan förstå den identiteten.

Snabbt hinner jag reflektera över ”tanken” och hur jag gång på gång fascineras över den. ”Tanken” som fenomen. Tanken är det enda som jag kan hålla privat, det enda som ingen kan komma åt, vare sig med våld eller genom min egen oförsiktighet. Jag kan välja att dela mina tankar, men trots min ärliga intention att förmedla ”sanningen” så tror jag att en stor del av min ”sanna tanke” försvinner i passagen mellan huvudet och den skrivna texten eller det yttrade ordet. Det vackra är att jag kan välja. Jag kan välja att inte dela min tanke, jag kan välja att förvränga den innan den yttras. Jag kan välja att behålla den själv, att gotta mig i den, avnjuta den och aldrig avslöja den. Den är min.

Jag förundras över de tankar och de identiteter människor går omkring och bär på. Det är fantastiskt. Apropå vår mor och identiteter spinner Mrs. I vidare på släktskap och visar mig hur hon påbörjat släktforskning på nätet. Familj, i alla dess skepnader, har alltid varit viktigt för mig och mina nära, och det är därför inte en nyhet att min far muntligen kan rabbla upp namnen på åtminstone tio generationer bakåt i tiden och ge en förklaring av vad deras turkiska namn betyder på svenska. Också på min mors sida har jag vetat att mormors släkt är från de Värmländska skogarna, med nåt inslag av Vallonsläkt, och att morfars släkt kommer från de Gotländska slätterna. Men min systers påbörjade forskning uppenbarade också ett väldigt frekvent resande över Atlanten under förra sekelskiftet. Med tanke på att resenären fick åtminstone en sisådär 8-10 barn här i Sverige med två olika damer under de åren han var hemma, och han var borta ett par år i taget när han var over there, anar jag att det finns en hel del värmländskt blod i Minnesota! Kanske är det dags att dessa utvandrar-ättlingar får besök av sin Gotsk-Istanbulska Stockholmssläkting?