fredag 20 januari 2017

The greatest people never get inaugurated



This is not my novel and not my true story, but I bring forth storytellers far more talented than me!
The swedish director Johannes Nyholm has created this touching and important little film about being an outsider, about societies standards regarding who is important and productive and Who is not. This is the story about a young man born with a severe handicap. This is the story of love, support and courage far beyond the presidential sight.
This the story about crossed boundaries and lessons learned. We sat there, overwhelmed, laughing, crying,  wanting to rush up and protect.  
We have a small filmclub at home in our town, I have told you about that great little cinema we have. Old and beautiful, handled carefully and lovingly by a family with a burning passion for good film and cultural events .

The film club is run by equally passionated people. That gives us a great opportunity to watch films we would not reach otherwise.

Is this world where one new leader after the other takes charge and points out a road to oblivion, leading their own people right into the voids and shadows, we need to remember that greatness has nothing to do with power really. But it has a whole lot to do with love, integrity and courage.  It's people who looks beyond , people who sticks to their believes and values, people who makes us come to a halt, breathing the air, noticing the scenery, listening to the voices of others, caring for the welfare of people we never met, people that makes us strong and clearsighted.  Some of them are great leaders in politics, most of them are not.
The film is shot with the aid of ordinary people, no great actors, just ordinary people and everyday life. The story could happend anywhere in the world, the image of the giant is an image of the greatness in the small and battered little man, trying to find it's strenght and purpose.  The Giant is an important film and I hope it will reach a filmfestival close to you.

And another one, a serious comedy : "A man called Ove", I'd love to bring you. It's directed by Hannes Holm and is heading for the Oscar!!
That film is really not about a man at all, it's about the surprise life offers when you actually thought everything was over . The greatness lies in what you can discover if you dare open your mind for just a brief moment, and invite kindness. I challenge myself to do this, with the courage my faith gives me.  Besides this important lesson, this film will make you laugh and think.

I'll add a trailer for that one as well, so you can have something else to think about in times of lunacy and demolition of common sense and compassion.


 The world shrunk with those 35 words spoken today, God bless us all.  May it come out differently than we fear.  May greatness be given a whole new meaning before it's too late!!!

söndag 15 januari 2017

What is a childhood, anyway?

The more I think about it, the more it strikes me, this childhood thing.

The streets of my hometown, 1964

Our oldest doesn't want to leave this house where we live, but we sometimes do! We rent it, it's getting old and worn out, falling apart here and there. If I ask her why she is so determined about this, she says: But Mum, this is my childhood, I grew up here!!! And yes, that she did.

Can't argue with that.
Living in the  countryside as we do now, I have learned to see things differently. Here people live for generations, often in the same village, parents and children being neighbours or next to it. I grew up in a larger town, well, its the third largest in Sweden anyway.
There is no place I could point out as my point of origin, no place that I can return to telling my children: Kids, this is where your mother grew up.  Well, there was the very first apartment, I don't remember that, was too small. Then my mother got married and the second apartment I can remember, one watertap, gas stove, no bathroom, no refridgerater, tv-set with a moneybox on the back, pidgeons and rats in the backyard, smelling dustbins and 4 storey houses all over.

Going out meant streetwalking, the town is rather large and famous for it's great amount of parks, and there is water present everywhere. The largest park we visited had it's origin in the Baltic Exhibitions 1914. The two great ponds where dug out several years earlier by the convicts in the city jail. In the centre of town was a castle surrounded by water, in the cellars the convicts spent their time. The castle is still there, today a museum. 
As an only child and a very lonely child, my idea of fun was to go to the playground, alone, and especially during rainperiods, dig canals and ponds, destroying the grounds around the swings and slides.  When I started school we moved to a larger apartment with bathroom, electric stove, hotwater taps and refridgerator AND freezer!! I guess I could call that my childhood home, I stayed there from the age of seven til' the age of 21... School was small, there were more grass and trees, we got a small dog and in the summers I was sent off to the country, spending 5-6 weeks with a family . I have written about them earlier, hardworking, earnest and kind people with cows, pigs, sheep,chickens, a dog called Pia and several cats. 

It was the kind of time many here call childhood days. But children grow up, we always say that we have to care for the children, giving them a safe and happy upbringing. But they grow up and become like everyone else, what is the childhood ? How does it affect us? I can tell of several incidents in my childhood that I remember vividly, but I couldn't say how they have effected me as an adult. Everything we go through effects us, in every age. We are never really grown ups, never is there a time when we can say: That's it, this is finally what I have become, this is me and this is the way I will stay my lifetime out.

So what is a childhood?  People write biographies and memoirs where they wringe and examines their childhood from the inside and out, often finding lots of things to blame their parents with. The only thing I have learned growing up is that I make the same mistakes and my children will probably suffer some bad memories because of me. The things I could blame my mother for, and others in my closest realm, I realize now are things that can be difficult and impossible for any person to deal with. Parents are no superheroes, they do their very best and often that is enough, sometimes not.
My time in the countryside however, HAS indeed made a difference, although I couldn't tell you what kind. Maybe it's just that I have an experience many other children in my neighbourhood never had. Me, a city girl, learned to milk cows, feed calves, pull out lambs from wombs and pick eggs. I learned what it's like to have your t-shirt sucked in by the calf standing behind you, and fall into the largest pile of shit imaginable . I learned what it's like to sit in the hay with a bunch of kittens in the barn, listening to the thunderstorm. I learned what it's like to walk the meadows shortly before milking time, calling in the cows. I also learned about the barndances and the difference between using the backdoor and using the fancy front door, only on parties.
My grandparents also lived in apartments, but the grandparents in this family lived in small villages and small cottages. Fireplaces, rocking chairs, you know.

So what is a childhood? It is, in some way, your preparation for the adult life, but only part.
The adult, as I see it, can be just as much in need of care and comfort, safety and love. We also need to meet life with bright eyes and happy hearts, we too need to be handled with care and welcomed and listened to.  Adults can be just as vunerable and tender as a child.
Still - the childhood will always stay on in our memory, true or not. If it's a bright and wonderful time, we aim to give our own children the same, if it's gloomy and bad we aim to give our own children something entirely different, a childhood of the kind we think every child needs. We compensate through our children, trying to give them what we didn't get.  Some times that can take disastrous forms , forcing the children into something they don't need.
And, honestly, children with happy childhoods, don't always turn out pleasant and secure people, loving and caring. Children with bad childhoods, don't always turn out villains and cruel persons or unhappy even.  

The streets of our childrens hometown, 2016

Even so, our childhood will always be important to us . My childhood have made me partly who I am, but the rest of my life keeps shaping me and reshaping me. Who I am deep down inside, only the Lord knows, and he keeps lifting me back on track when I'm lost. I hope every person and especially every parent will experience this, beacuse only then we can look at our own childhood and the one we give our children, with a forgiving and understanding heart. The frail life we lead will give us joy, comfort and horrors, but childhood will keep staying on in our minds as a very special time!!! So let us keep our children safe!!

tisdag 3 januari 2017

Deep in the woods I found a well

I normally never take the path north of the smaller beach this time of year.
Why? Well, the ground gets all suggy and moist and if the winter behaves as it should, the snow lies so thick that you can't even see the scrubbery beneath the trees.
For my part, being a wee bit out of order, it means risk of falling, spraining or breaking something. That's why.
Come to think of it, I hardly ever walk there at all, it has thickened, the scrubbery, I mean.
It's a lot darker than when we moved here. Nobody tends to this part of the forest, I'm not sure if anybody owns it even.
Most parts of the forest, the meadows and the dales here are private property. Or protected area. Some parts of the coastline are military and off limits, but that's another story altogether, let's stick to this one.
So I went out for a walk, a fine day it was, no fog or drizzle, sky not entirely blue but close. The wind had fallen the last few days and that made walking quite pleasant again. I went alone this time, being the only one with time to spare it seemed.

Down by the harbour the water lay smooth and clear. People went in and out from the store,
we are quite proud of this village, it's alive and kicking you might say, we've got everything we need, or almost.
I turned right and walked along the coastline, facing the sun. It was real sharp, I couldn't see much, but I brought my sunglasses. I speeded up my pace, thinking there would be some benefits in it, like burning of calories or at least excercising my tired muscles.
I met some people along the way, at least the first mile or so. Dogowners mostly. We used to have a dog, Alma, a Borderterrier. She loved both the beach and the woods. She got sick and died after a couple of years here. We speak of getting a dog every now and then. Especially when we are out walking. I stopped to look at a ridgeback galloping around hunting for a badly bruised ball.  Not a cute kind, those ridgebacks, but strong and alert. They moved on, dog and owner, giving way for a furry little thing, trying hard to keep steps with his jogging owner.

Sun was diving, I thought of turning home but something drove me on. I had passed the first of the small beaches, now I passed the second and looked up north. I didn't look so bad in the sunlight, perhaps I should try it. The soil was dry, no rain for a long time, no melting snow.
As I took the path my mind was wandering, I just kept walking, trying not to slip or get caught on the thorns. Blackberries all over.  After 15 minutes or so, I stopped. There was no one but me, I left my fellow villagers behind. It was darker too. I realized the sun was setting faster now, and there was a wind coming up. Or not? What was that sound? 

It was sort of a humming, wheezing sound. I hesitated . Maybe I should just turn and walk back?  I turned in every direction to locate the sound, it had to be further north. My ears were suddenly sharp receivers, I focused completely on that sound. There shouldn't be anything here, the path was nothing but a path, made up by dogowners and wanderers.  Nobody had lived here, I had never seen any traces of houses or stonefences or any kind of structure similar to those in other parts of these woods.  On the other hand, I was new to this area, generations of fishermen and farmers had lived here, but not in those woods. I had walked all the way up to the top several times years ago.

The sound was closer now, not very strong, but very close. All of a sudden, I almost fell right into ....a stream.  There are underground streams running from the hill and down. Taps and wells have been opened in several places.  That's what it was!  One of those small streams!
Only, as I followed it, the water dissapeared..inside a small structure of smooth stones.
It was actually a well.  A small, beautifully built little well, large enough to sit on the edge.
There was even a small roof held up by wooden pillars, and an arrangement with a bucket in a chain.  First I thought it must be summerguests building it for pleasure or leisure.
But as I looked closer I could see it was battered and overgrown, as if it had been there for a very long time.  Ivy on the roof, lavas on the stones.  I looked down and I could hear and smell the water but I couldn't see it. That was odd! Or was the water low in wintertime? 
I started to search for traces of a house, a barn, a shed, anything that could explain the well, but there was nothing. The trees and bushes grew thick, the scrubbery covered almost everything.

I noticed the complete silence too. Only the quiet mumble of the water. No wind, no birds, no villagers. I couldn't see the path anymore and began to regret my choice. 
The sun was almost down, dusk was my only source of light. I almost panicked. I had no torch with me, I must get back in time before darkness, I wasn't quite sure of the way. 
With my heart pounding hard I started walking towards what I hoped was the beach.  I soon left the sound of the water behind me, but it lingered in my head.
How I got back I don't know but after what seemed an eternity, I found the path back towards the village.  Strange, the sunlight wasn't gone. I looked at my watch.  I had been gone only half an hour!!  No! I turned towards the northern path. It looked innocent. Darker now. I wouldn't walk it again, not today . Not any day soon either.  

I reached the house while there was still sunlight. The wind had started whining a bit again and I noticed I was shivering. Hoping to find coffee ready, I entered the hallway.  I told my husband about the well. He looked puzzled, but he wasn't altogether certain about where I had been.  " You should go ask Walter" he said. "He knows these woods"

And so I did. I looked him up a few days later, telling him exactly where I had walked. He asked questions, looking more and more serious.  After quite some time he looked firmly at me and said: " You know, nobody have lived in that part of the woods for at least 150 years. I have never seen anything there, but my grandfather told me of a small cottage up there somewhere, that burned down completely in a fierce fire, taking everything alive with it, two people, some animals.  They had a small well built on one of the streams running from the hills, but when my grandfather was a boy, the well collapsed during a very harsh and long winter. Only a heap of stones left, perhaps some of the cattle got loose from the fields further down and helped out with the fall.  I have been up there several times , looking for traces but never found anything but a heap of stones, smooth, beautiful stones, covered with lavas.  That well is long gone, child, long gone"