Author: eskaftun

Think globally; gift locally

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Editor’s Notes: A message from Editor-in-chief Emily C. Skaftun

Cross-stitch in a Nordic pattern that reads "hygge as fuck" (though part of the word "fuck" has been blurred
Photo: Emily C. Skaftun
One of my craft projects that may or may not end up a Christmas gift and a pretty good expression of how I feel heading into the holidays—cozy but also grumpy and sometimes foul-mouthed.

Sitting here in my office, a week into into November, it’s hard for me to believe that the holiday season is upon us again. It is, though. In my local Safeway, Halloween candy was shunted aside on Nov. 1, with candy canes taking its place. Starbucks holiday cups are out.

And so, the holiday onslaught begins, at least corporately.

I mean, here I am producing a large issue full of things you can buy, things you can wrap them with, ways to decorate the tree you’ll buy (or cut?) to put them under. They’re available online! They ship right to you!

And yet, there’s a part of me that wonders whether buying and shipping objects to give to everyone on our list is the ideal way to celebrate the holiday that is the very essence of hygge. It’s not a radical thought. Many have bemoaned the commercialization of the holiday. But what can we do?

Continue reading “Think globally; gift locally” →

Fiction and empathy

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fiction and empathy - Dexter Morgan
Photo: Christian Weber / Showtime
Dexter Morgan, sympathetic serial killer of books and television fame. Fiction shows us the inner workings of characters different from us, possibly increasing empathy.

A message from Editor-in-chief Emily C. Skaftun

To me, summer is for fiction. It’s a habit deeply ingrained by summer reading lists and reading of my own that, without school, I finally had time for. What are days at the beach or pool for, if not reading? Reading for pleasure, which for me means reading fiction. Continue reading “Fiction and empathy” →

Postcards: Norsk critters

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Image of a woman sitting on a pig.
Dear Per,
Once upon a time you said you had ridden a reindeer, and oh, was your mother mad at you! “You’re lying,” she screamed! And you were, I bet.
She’s gone mad. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Just get me a reindeer.” She started to search for one. “Why not ride that pig instead?” I asked her. And on she climbed! “Take my picture,” she said. “Send it to my useless son.” And so I did.
And then the pig took off! And she held on somehow, even without antlers to grab.
And she is gone, Per. Come home and help me find her.
Your neighbor
Image of a cat drawn by Theodor Kittelsen
Dear Paula:
First we heard its ominous footfalls. Remember how Snowball used to STOMP her little kitten feet? That, times 1,000. We knew we were going to die, eaten by a cat the size of a schoolbus. Even if it was friendly, it would still probably kill us, just playing. The cat puffed up its haunches, opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth… and said, “Pleased to meet you; have you got any food?”
We were shocked, but sis managed to produce our matpakkes, and thank god for the herring. The cat was so happy she floomped over purring, and even let us pet her enormous belly.
Always pack a lunch! good advice!
Love,
Nancy
Image of Trolltunga
Dear Turid:
There is a lot of debate, these days, about access to Norway’s “geological formations,” as these modern folks see them. Hordes travel to them, and it’s becoming unsafe. People need rescue. It’s expensive. Some are never seen again.
No longer do we need to make up a song and dance to lure humans to the altars. We just call it a “tourist attraction.” With thousands visiting per year, some are bound to be virgins, pure of heart and body and soul.
The gods have never been better fed.
With devotion,
A humble servant
Image of a boy playing fiddle to a disinterested cat
Deer human frend:
I m riting from total normal vacayshun to say hello. I saw many sites. Did fun things. Ate gud fud.
Met total normal kat hoo challenge me to Fiddal contest. You no I m best at Fiddal, so wun easy and definat lee did not trade boddys with kat. Kant wate to play Fiddal for you wen I get home. Lerned a new song that will make you loos mind.
luv yor human frend

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On shitholes* and immigration

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Symbol of immigration: Statue of Liberty
Photo: Pixabay
According to our country’s most iconic monument, we are a refuge for “The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.” Taking in immigrants from “shithole” countries is central to America’s identity.

Emily C. Skaftun The Norwegian American As is I’m sure old news by the time you’re reading this, the world having moved on to another outrageous scandal in the two weeks between my writing this and this issue of The Norwegian American arriving in your mailbox, the President of the United States may or may not have asked, “Why are we having all these people from shithole countries come here?” about countries in Africa, Haiti, and El Salvador. Instead, he suggested that we could use more people from countries like Norway.

Sigh. Continue reading “On shitholes* and immigration” →

A tale of two Vigelands

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See both artist brothers’ work in Oslo

Emanuel Vigeland
Photo: Kjartan Hauglid / © BONO / Emanuel Vigeland Museum
Emanuel Vigeland’s vision for his museum, built on the property where he lived with his wife, was as a showcase for his paintings and sculptures.

You’ve heard of Gustav Vigeland. One of Norway’s most famous artists, he’s the one behind the intriguing, bizarre sculptures in Oslo’s Frogner Park. The sculpture park is an absolute must-see on any visit to Norway’s capital, no matter how brief or, in my opinion, how many times you’ve been there before.

But you may not be aware of the other artistic Vigeland: Emanuel, Gustav’s younger brother. His mausoleum, tucked away in a residential neighborhood in Oslo’s northwest suburbs, is one of the city’s best-kept secrets. Continue reading “A tale of two Vigelands” →

The white elephant in the room

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How to make gift-giving fun

A white elephant with a santa hat on.
Image: Pixabay

Emily C. Skaftun
The Norwegian American

For many years I thought the only way to make gifting possible for large groups was the Secret Santa approach. You know the drill: Everyone’s name goes into a hat and whichever name you pull out is who you buy a gift for. You hope your name got pulled by someone who has at least a vague sense of who you are and not that one coworker or family member who always gives bath salts. You know the one.

Then a few years ago I suddenly found myself in two groups whose holiday traditions included “white elephant” gift exchanges, and it blew my mind.

Continue reading “The white elephant in the room” →

Postcards: Travel woes

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Image of skeletons making love

Dear mom:
“Get a room” doesn’t begin to cover my roommates on this trip. They made out in churches, during hikes, on busses. They snuck behind statues and museum exhibits, and were constantly taking “bathroom breaks” together. And every night. I was only one bed over, but did that stop them?
We visited a temple that’s supposed to grant wishes. I didn’t believe it, and anyway what I said wasn’t exactly a wish. All I said (channeling your parenting!) was “If you keep doing that you’re going to get stuck that way.”
The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. Their mouths are stuck so they can’t eat (or even scream), but they do look happy, for now.
Love,
Sara
Image of swirly green northern lights over a fjord.
Dear Dani:
They lay in wait for eons. Silent, eerie, beautiful. Science said they were just some ionized something or other, harmless. But ancient people knew better. They knew they weren’t always silent. The noise is unbearable & alien, & though I do not know the language, the malice behind it is clear.
Nordlys observers in the mountains were the first to go. When it touched them they just dissolved. We saw it on their webcams.
It’s getting lower. Soon it will meet the sea and there will be no escape. Already I dare not fly home. You were right. Should have gone on a tropical vacation!
With regrets,
John
Image of an impressionist painting of a nude
Dear mom:
It started innocently: we took some LSD. Don’t pretend you never tried it; I’ve seen pics of you from the 70s. But maybe it was safer back then?
We had a great time! Everything turned surrealist, then impressionist. We finally understood the appeal of lava lamps and blacklight posters and “Revolution 9.”
When I woke and saw Ed he still looked all crazy. We thought we were still high, but the walls and the windows and the world outside were normal. It was only Ed—and my reflection—that remained psychedelic. You’ll see when we get home. Try not to have a flashback!
Your daughter
Image of crazy orange northern lights.
Dear crew:
I appreciate what you’ve done. You used my own vanity against me: I did think I deserved to be the first human to step foot on this new planet. A giant leap for me and who cares about the steps of mankind.
So I got what I wanted. Thanks!
I thought you’d be right behind me. I didn’t hear the hatch slam shut—sound travels differently here. But I saw it. I saw your faces through the portholes. And I saw the ion blast of the engines tear red wounds across the sky as you left.
Good joke. Very funny.
Come back any time now.
Your captain

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Crossing words with a crossword EDitor

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Filling in the method and madness behind Ed Egerdahl’s Norsk-Engelsk Kryssord Puzzles

Ed Egerdahl filling in his crossword puzzle.
Photo courtesy of Ed Egerdahl
All the EDs that are fit to print! To say there are themes Egerdahl returns to repeatedly in his puzzles would be an understatement.

Those who’ve been solving the crosswords a long time know a few tricks. First, look for a two-letter blank. In pencil, go ahead and write in the letters E and D. Now check the clue. Odds are it says something like “Norsk klasse skolebusssjåfør!”1 or “kryssord mester i sitt eget hode.”2 Continue reading “Crossing words with a crossword EDitor” →

Is hate a Norwegian (-American) value?

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Emily C. Skaftun
The Norwegian American

I want nothing more than to let this subject go for once and all, but I’m afraid I can’t resist getting in the last word on it first. We have received an unusual amount of angry messages about a recent article entitled “Today’s Islamophobia challenge,” an opinion article that I thought was pretty innocuous. It argues that the fear and hatred of our Muslim neighbors is overblown.

But over on Facebook I had people telling me that “Islam just wants to rule the world, but they still live in the Middle Ages so it won’t happen [camel emoji],” and “If they could stop killing people, that’d be great;” telling me to “Find better writers;” and asking whether the article was a paid advertisement. Continue reading “Is hate a Norwegian (-American) value?” →

Pride of country and journalistic integrity

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Photo: Kay Skaftun
Yep, that’s the steely-eyed gaze of your editor bringing you a very serious “gratulerer med dagen.”

Emily C. Skaftun
The Norwegian American

Another year has gone by, as measured in Syttende Mais. In this issue in particular we celebrate Norway, country of our ancestry. Hipp hipp hurra for deg, Norge!

But then, this paper celebrates Norway in pretty much every issue, doesn’t it? It’s no secret that our position is pro-Norway, but in what’s being called the “post-truth” era, when “fake news” and “alternate facts” abound, I’ve been thinking a lot about when a newspaper’s attempt to remain primarily positive crosses the line into propaganda. Continue reading “Pride of country and journalistic integrity” →