eskilstuna: its name

Forskyrkan, the oldest church in Eskilstuna (i'm still trying to figure out how to move and caption a photo)

Some of our friends have asked about the name of the Swedish city, Eskilstuna, where we lived last year. at first it did seem comical, as if it refers to the fish, but “tuna” here means “town.” If you mention how happy you are living in Eskilstuna to a Swede from another place, they usually have a sort of puzzled look. Yes, they’ve heard of it, but their reaction is similar to what an American’s might be, if you said in excited tones “We’re having a great time, living in Akron for six months.”

But of course there is a story (with a few variants; please don't footnote me) that explains the name. In the late 11th century an Anglo-Saxon monk named Eskil was one of several sent from England to central Sweden to convert the heathens to Christianity. The Vikings had been especially reluctant to get on the bandwagon of the monotheistic desert sky religion that the faithful had been trying to spread in the wild, watery, snowy northlands.

The locals weren’t specially interested in Eskil’s message and one day were celebrating a lively traditional festival, perhaps that of Freya, the Viking goddess of sex and fertility. when Eskil tried to break up this blasphemous heathen event, the folks promptly stoned him to death for his trouble. The year is recorded as 1080. His companions buried him in a quiet spot near the river. Soon the Vatican saw fit to elevate their brave martyr Eskil to sainthood and sometime in the next centuries when Christianity finally prevailed, the town came to be called Eskil’s Town, or Eskilstuna.

At some point—sources differ substantially on this—Eskil's body (now the potent, valuable relic of a saint) was exhumed and stolen by monks from Strängnäs, a larger town nearby, with its imposing cathedral, the seat of the bishop. So all that is left in Eskilstuna besides the saint's name is a modern bronze statue of him in a park. (in six months i never saw this, except on a post card).

Tim, the Lutheran pastor of Forskyrkan, the oldest church in town, built more or less where Eskil was buried, just happens to come from Ortonville, Michigan. He told us that he was given a relic of Eskil, a finger bone that had been handed down the millennium through an old local family. Whether Tim believes this is the real thing or not, I’m not sure. Sweden officially became Protestant in the early sixteenth century and remains nominally Lutheran today, though surveys suggest that only about four percent of Swedes attend church and eighty-five percent do not believe in god.

aristotle on friendship

i need to figure out how to put captions on my photos. this one could read "friendships of the good."

aristotle answered a question i sometimes thing about: what about the friends that you make in certain situations? your entertaining colleagues at work, or business associates whose company you enjoy as they treat you to meals in good restaurants? what about people you meet sharing a table in a trattoria in siena who then call you when they turn up on a trip to detroit? what about cute guys sitting in the back of philosophy class with me? he divides these into "friends of utility" (e.g., colleagues), and "friends of pleasure" (e.g., folks you chat with in your tai chi class, also romantic liasons). these friendships have their moments, but will probably pass as the occasion passes.

i've heard them called, "friends along the way," lumping aristotle's two categories together.

but the more important type of friends, according to the philosopher, are "friendships of the good." these are based on mutual respect, admiration for each other's virtues, and a desire to aid and assist each other. these friendships may be few, but they will last. they require time to develop: "according to the common saying, it is not possible for people to know one another until they use up the proverbial amount of salt together." (nicomachean ethics, 1156b 26).

marcia, oded, and i have used up a lot of salt together. first at college in massachusetts; then cleveland, paris, on the kibbutz in israel, detroit, virginia, georgia, tennessee, maine, jerusalem, wadi rum, even new york, where oded first stepped off the boat from israel. this weekend we spent a couple of leisurely days together here, chatting, eating, drinking some surprisingly good red wine from virginia, watching the woodpeckers at the feeder and the possum cleaning up underneath.

there's no citation from aristotle on the possum per se, since he couldn't have known about marsupials. they evolved in the southern hemisphere only when the continents there were joined--think kangaroos and koala bears. the local opossums migrated up our way from south america. theirs is an ancient lineage; possum fossils have been found from the jurassic period, the age of the dinosaurs.

marcia, a philosophy major, is still devoted to plato but i'm all for aristotle: "friends seem to be the greatest of external goods." (1169b 10).

aristotle on possums

"In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous" aristotle

possums have opposable thumbs on their hind feet. they eat virtually anything, including snails, slugs, mice, stale popcorn, and carrion. this one has been cleaning up under our bird feeder. the opossum society of america calls them "nature's little sanitation engineers."

pogo was a possum and i love pogo.

korean festival

the new york philharmonic is playing in pyongyang; penny is working for GM in seoul; judy interviewed three koreans for the wsu graphic design position at at caa in dallas; and marcia, oded, andrew, and julia had mekchu, pajun, bulgogi, and kalbi last night at the new seoul garden restaurant in southfield. so we are all appreciating korean culture in our own ways.

and penny has a photo to show for it. she took this dancer sunday night at San'chon, everyone's favorite restaurant and performance space in seoul. a traditional vegetarian menu, said to be buddhist, lubricated with the potent traditional drink soju, followed by traditional folk dances on a small central stage. i hope penny joined in the final circle dance, as i did. i hope she didn't spin around and around and then fall down like i did. could it have been the soju?

i said i wouldn't be making this blog into a boring family newsletter, but while we're on the subject of korea, i can't leave out a recent photo of tamara, can i? but i would like to move it down to end this post but can't figure it out. still learning how to blog.

fading barn, fading sun

here's the collapsed barn. i know it will make M feel especially sad, given her knowledge and love of architecture. if you look closely you can see Snowflake, one of Scott's old hens who, together with Blackie, has somehow avoided being a coyote's lunch.

and a glowing sunset for a more cheerful ending. notice how high the frozen pond is, over its banks already. that usually happens in march.

winter sport at FBF

well, the blog seems to be getting good reviews so far, but one enthusiast (who wishes to remain anonymous, we'll call her M and only say that she lives in a densely populated area in the northern hemisphere) would like to see some current photos of the quaint rural life we lead here at FBF.

the past week has been great for x-c skiiing. JM has much more fashionable clothes for this activity. it's annoying that she can still wear her wool knickers from college. i can still wear my baggy gray sweatpants from the '90s.

a sad note is that just before christmas the roof on the old barn opposite collapsed. we knew it would happen sooner or later as the landlord had totally neglected it. now i can worry that the five horses are still wandering around it, and the chickens too. [it seems that i can't add another photo here; not enough storage space...i'm still trying to figure this thing out.]

soon i will write about how JL and i got locked in scott's chicken coop and learned the meaning of "nest egg." never a dull moment, always entertaining to those from that same densely populated area where she also lives. i hope this isn't giving too much away.

will see if i can "post" more photos on another "post". it is also interesting to know that our field is "posted," meaning we have those rather old-fashioned signs nailed up on trees to notify the deer hunters that no hunting is allowed.

overheard in ann arbor

how quickly today came up. we've been out skiing around the field but i've promised myself i'll post something here on fridays. so here it is, blog friends.

a few nights ago, i went to zingerman's cafe with my friend corinne. we were talking about--what else?--philosophy. she mentioned something about kant's demanding, inflexible standards for morality. a middle aged, down-coated, bearded guy passed by our table and said, "i couldn't help overhearing your conversation. thank god immanuel kant is dead."

this made me think of an exchange i overheard on the street between two white american female graduate student types:

"have you read his poetry?" asks one.

"no, i haven't. of course, i would have to read it translated into farsi."

"oh, i understand. nothing is worse than reading kurdish poetry in a farsi translation."

and, since i don't get out much, may i say that i was taken aback that night when corinne ordered a green tea latte? i didn't realize that there was such a thing. east meets west? japan meets italy? what would tony soprano say? well, if green tea ice cream is good, why not green tea latte? i've tried it now elsewhere and it was pretty good, maybe a little too sweet.

who was Sallie Minor?

who was Sallie Minor and why am i interested in her?

i am interested in her because i am transcribing her journals from 1910/12 and one from 1949. every day i spend a little time with Sallie. i too write a journal everyday. like a good country woman, she started almost every entry with the weather, and now so do i.

i like history to be personal. i transcribed my grandfather's journal from 1907/1910. he and Sallie were cousins and lived on country estates no more that a mile apart. virtually the same cast of characters appears in both. would i be as interested in the exact same material, had it been written by an unrelated neighbor? yes, because they describe the same world, and complement each other. no one in my grandfather's journal ever cooks, cleans, washes,irons, sews, or puts up pickled peaches.

and i am interested in her because Sallie raised one of my favorite cousins, Bill Minor, from the time his mother died of tuberculosis. Sallie moved to Kentucky to care for her nephew when she was fifty-six. Bill was eight months old. now he's eighty-two. probably he is the last person alive who remembers her.

i am interested because i live in the country myself, and have a casual interest in farming.

why should you be interested in her? you don't have to be, it's okay. stop reading. i'll put different kinds of things into this blog.

Sallie Cook Minor lived from 1868 to 1949. by chance, her nephew Bill found three of her journals and i've offered to transcribe them. i have begun to feel quite close to Sallie. i try to imagine her life. what she doesn't say is often more interesting than what she records.

Sallie and I would have been distantly related, but kinship among the Virginia clan of Minors is hopelessly confusing. for example, i am doubly Minor related because my maternal grandfather, Henry Minor Magruder, married his second cousin, Sarah Gilmer Minor. that's enough to stop you right there. they were both Sallie's second cousins. they and many other family members all lived near each other, in separate estates on the Stony Point Road outside of Charlottesville. They were very much involved in each other's lives, constantly socializing. the men helped each other on the farms, sharing teams of mules and dynamiting stumps together. the women sewed for each other and helped "put up" sausage when the hogs were slaughtered in november.

in 1910, Sallie was 42, unmarried; her mother had died a decade earlier. Sallie was running the rural household. her father George was 71. he had fought in the Confederate cavalry "from the first Bull Run all through the bloody war," as his grandson Bill puts it. George's brother was killed in Pickett's Charge at Gettysburg in 1863, as was my great-grandfather's brother. i imagine they were in the same 57th Virginia Regiment.

Sallie had a mysterious apparently invalid older sister Ann; a younger sister Mary who was married; and another unmarried sister Eliza; and three younger brothers, Peter, Frank, and Tom, who mostly lived at home. they had no electricity, no running water, no heat besides firewood and a coal oil stove, no phone, no radio, no car. Sallie walked to church and to visit the nearer cousins almost daily and drove a horse and buggy to see others in the neighborhood a few miles away, or to go the six miles into town.

Sallie must have been educated at home. she wrote in pencil with a strong, clear hand and never missed a day nor made a single spelling mistake. she mentions that they read to their father in the evenings, but never mentions a book. probably they read the bible. they did have a subscription to "The Southern Planter," an agricultural monthly offering practical advice. i've looked at some issues in the University of Michigan library, as my great-grandfather (the above mentioned Henry Minor Magruder) wrote a series of strong letters to the editor in the early 1890s, arguing for a hands-on approach to teaching farming at the new state agricultural college.

the family made almost everything they used or ate. In the early journals, Sallie bought only salt, pepper, sugar, vinegar, "western meal," oil for the stove, a pair of rubber shoes for 75 cents, a hat, and some "outing," as cotton flannel was called then. once she noted that she lent Peter 40 cents to buy a curry comb and brush. Peter was often riding off to see some young lady or other, so i suppose he wanted to keep his horse looking spiffy.

that world seems so very far away, as i sit in Michigan, writing my blog on my laptop in 2008.

yet, on August 9, 1949, Sallie wrote "Elizabeth Henshaw came to call and brought ice cream." My mother. i would have been eight. i remember going to the house on Park Street where Sallie then lived with her sister Mary, so i'm sure i must have met her. my mother used to drag me around to call on many ancient lady relatives; usually i would be sent outside to play while they chatted on and on about their ailments and passed along endless uninteresting family and neighborhood news and gossip.

i can't say that i really remember Sallie, but Sallie wasn't so distant after all.

check the blog for more on Sallie and her world to come. i promise to post a few of the most interesting entries of her journal.

searching for stoneflies

this is an attempt to get a photo into the blog. in late january, the Huron River Watershed Council organizes a search for stoneflies at about 70 sites around the watershed. stoneflies only live in clean water, so their presence is an indicator that a stream is not polluted. stoneflies in michigan have developed a strategy of mating in january when their predators are absent, so that's when they are easy to find. we go out in teams: a "collector" who wades in the stream with a net and collects samples from the bottom, "pickers" who pick through the muck to find the stoneflies, and a "team leader" who stands around doing nothing (that's me). this site is on 8 mile, close to where we live, and we found lots of stoneflies. our other site, near new developments on pontiac trail north of 11 mile had almost none.

ice harvesting

last weekend the Kensington Farm Center had a special program on ice harvesting. selling ice was a big commercial venture in this part of Michigan, where there are many small lakes to supply the ice and good access to the railoads to ship it to cities as far away as St. Louis.

a couple of years ago, the Farm Center staff would hitch up their team of percherons to the hayride wagon and take visitors out onto a small lake where they could try sawing through the ice first-hand. the ice used to freeze to at least 12 inches thick but recently it has only been about 7 inches thick, not enough to hold two 2,000 lb horses and various spectators. so they set up a demonstration at the Farm Center itself, having harvested some big long blocks of the 7 in. ice. they had antique saws with special teeth to cut the ice and pikes to move it and simple pullies set up to lift the heavy blocks onto wagons.

i wanted to see how this was done, as i'd just entered several entries from Sallie Minor's 1912 journal referring to getting ice. each family of my Virginia cousins was getting ice for their own use, but they all helped each other out with this major chore:


Jan 6th Saturday 1912

Cloudy and cold. I got up rather early as Frank was going to help Uncle John get ice. Aunt Jimmie came over to see Frank about getting ice. Peter got Hugh to drive the team. Tom left this morning. Peter took him to the train. Frank cut wood most of the day. Frank found a hen with young chickens at the cabin. I washed two pairs of curtains. This has been a very cold day. Peter speaks of getting a position in the insurance business.

[on Sunday the Minors went to church when the circuit riding preacher was there, or sunday school when he wasn't, and had a quiet day without work.]

Jan 8th Monday 1912

Cloudy and snowing all day. Coz. Albert Holladay borrowed the two mules to have ice. Willie took Peter’s trunk to Proffit about 4 o’c. Peter rode to town, he expected to get home in time to get off too, but did not do it, so will go in the morning. I ironed four pairs of curtains today. Mr. Lang came over and helped Frank to move the two wardrobes. i killed and dressed the old rooster to make chicken salad.

[apparantly i can't have itals in my blog: sorry, editors]

Mules were the preferred equines for hard work in those days in Virginia. i know from my mother that ice was cut from the ponds and stored in an ice house. the one at edgemont was a deep large pit in the ground lined with stones. the ice was put in and covered with sawdust as insulation. it lasted into the summer, when it was used for making ice cream, a very special treat. its more critical use was in ice boxes to keep milk, butter, meat, and other perishables from spoiling during warm weather. i'm not sure when refrigeration became more common but i remember my father coming home with a big block of ice and chipping off pieces with an ice pick. does anyone sell blocks of ice anymore?

more about sallie minor's journals and life to come.

welcome friends

dear friends here and there,

my two most trusted literary advisors, alice peck and dan minock, each suggested indepently that i should create a blog. this came in part from my comment that i am tired of the things i have written in the past few years and want to write some new material. so i am planning to post something short every week, or perhaps more often if there's something worth writing about.

i've thought of updates on life at frog bog (where is the mink now?), comments on aristotle's Ethics (philosophy class readings), entries in sallie minor's journals of 1910-12 (i'm transcribing these written by an obscure cousin in rural virginia), some unpublished travel notes (israel, sweden), the ice harvesting festival at the kensington farm center (who knew what a big enterprise ice harvesting was?), and whatever else comes to mind.

i do not want it to be the equivalent of a chirstmas card letter. however, i will start with the scene here at home.

there's about 6 inches of snow on the ground and among the many birds at the feeder is a red-bellied woodpecker, an individual who we can easily recognize. he crashed into the long windows in our 'new room' in december of '06 and landed head first deep in the snow and didn't move. i went out to rescue him and in pulling the bird out, i pulled off some of his tail feathers. he was alive but stunned. judy rushed him in to bird rescue in ann arbor, where they kept him most of the day and sent him back to us before nightfall in a brown paper bag held with a clothespin--the official best way, they say. we released him and he flew off fast into the woods. so now when we see a red-bellied woodpecker without much of a tail, we know exactly who he is. today he is drumming hard on the electric pole, establishing his territory and hoping to atract a mate. a sure sign of spring approaching.

we've had three power outages in the past week, due to high winds and falling ash trees, victims of the emerald ash borer. no electricity means no heat but the wood stove, no lights (ok, lots of candles), no water (there's snow to melt, ice on the pond but no ice saw), no electric stove so no cooking (though i can boil water and cook rice on the top of the wood stove), no tv (i'm hooked on "in treatment"), no cd player (my spoken swedish lessons) and of course, worst of all, no internet, no e-mail. we do have one of those crank radios so we can listen to npr.

the wood stove works well enough if it isn't too bitter cold and the outage doesn't last too long (13 hours the most so far) and the wood is dry and burning well (not always the case). and now there's a new problem: the ground is so saturated with all the snow and rain we've had that the septic system is flooded, so waste water can't drain out fast enough. therefore, while we have plenty of water and at the moment the power to pump it out of the well, we can't use too much of it. quick showers, limited toilet flushes and dishwashing, no washing machine (i tried a load of laundry and flooded the basement).

what all this points out so clearly is how dependent we've become on both these necessities and these frills and how unprepared we really are for michigan in the winter.

enough for now. i hope you'll come back to the blog and send comments. yrs, as always, julia