THIS POST IS ABOUT WEATHER & WRITING & SCANDINAVIAN ROOTS & OLD AGE
First of all, very bloody big damn old first-of-all, it is September 16th, the second day of New Mexicans celebrating the advent of autumn: temperatures below 90, clouds, rain, hope that the blazing droughts of the future are not already here to stay. Honestly, I’d like to dance naked in the rain, drink champagne, march in protest against the bad guys of the world, have a job/a lover/bake cakes/write books…but then in rising slowly from my chair, it comes back to me. I am 87 years-old and none of the above will happen…and if they even approached I’d likely have a heart attack and not be around for another full-length rainy day, much less cake and sex anyway.
Moving On: Getting to the next post in the Decades series that I supposedly am writing is proving nearly impossible…blogging-bloc, occasional depression or aches&pains or just general world-weariness? Who can say? Me? Friends? Books? Counselor/Death Doula (yeah really, but I’m not dying soon…as far as I know…it’s a story to tell later). In fact, writing anything at all that makes sense hasn’t been happening.
What to do? This blog, Time and Place is my primary ‘big’ journal right now. In addition, I do utilize pens and actual paper for other jottings. But right here is where the important almost-professionally-written account of my and the world’s day are to be told. Where I can feel like a writer. Please god-of-writers let me feel like a writer. (I googled that but no appropriate god showed up. Some places said Hermes [communication] but that’s too handbaggy so—I move on.)
Here is today’s plan to defeat blog-bloc. I write stuff and then I post it by the end of the day. Whatever is written, I post.
Instead of starting from scratch, I’ll include what has been drafted for Decades sporadically over these last many weeks. It is/was intended to be an essay about my Swedish ancestry. The intention was to launch Decades with background about my Scandinavian ancestry before focusing on Minnesota life. I got through introing Norway, before my summer time up north—which ended over a month ago. Stabs have been stabbed, but not penetrated far enough to release any good solid writerly impulses. That’s over. The rain on my roof is fertilizing my brain as I type. Here goes more ‘moving on.’ And another ‘please.’ Let me get Sweden over with… One eighth of my DNA. Why a whole essay, or more? Well, it’s Grandma Magnhild’s story which becomes my mom Ovidia’s story which becomes my story. Perhaps the percentages get smaller with each generation, but there are always a few beliefs, customs, traits to get passed down. First though, it’s location, location, location for all of the grandparents.
Dad’s grandparents/parents (Neset): all Setesdal Valley, southern tip of Norway (to best of my knowledge).
Dad: born in Setesdal Valley, Norway; emigrated to northern Minnesota as a 7-year-old child.
Mom’s grandparents/parents: paternal side (Floren): Trondheim area, Norway. Maternal side (Strom): Harjedalen, Jamtland County, Sweden.
Both the Florens and the Stroms emigrated to South Dakota in the late 1800s (again…to best of my knowledge). Grandma Magnhild was a child when her father Per Strom and his family left for America.
Mom: born in South Dakota. Mom’s family on both sides established themselves in eastern South Dakota upon their arrival or soon after.
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Geography is one of my ongoing interests, so let me share a mind’s eye view of all of the places mentioned above, an overview for contrast and comparison since I’ve written a great deal about them before.
The photos above were taken traveling down the Setesdal Valley on train one very rainy day. What you’re seeing is all of the grand scenery and some of the bright gold buildings I’ve mentioned below. These are some of my absolutely favorite landscapes.
Norway’s Setesdal Valley is at the heart of my whole story, given its status as the birthplace of Grandma and Grandpa Neset and their son, Sven (Svein?). It’s in the south and center of the country (see map). Many stories and photos have been posted on this blog describing what is, as you already know, a magnificent spot of earth. Yes, Norway is one big scenic photo op: grand mountains; the distinct greens of forest and field; blue rivers, lakes, fjords and/or the ocean at nearly every turn. The buildings are usually of a deep gold, rust or maroon; dark green or gray; even black. The animals are all fat and glossy. There must be exceptions to all of the above but they are hard to find. The cities, of which there are few, are attractive and well maintained, but often plainer in architecture and trimmings than many European cities. The buildings are often of those same gorgeous colors I’ve mentioned in the countryside however. Again… areas with ramshackle housing, and poorly maintained infrastructure are bound to exist. It’s just that I’ve been around the country quite a lot and have never seen any so I cannot swear to it. I will only make one small joke about picture-perfect Norway, on a subject I seem compelled to mention oftener than necessary. Considering the popularity of Nordic Noir literature, TV, and film, we really could expect more bloodied bodies as we pass through the landscape. Jo Nesbo, popular Norwegian writer of northern mystery (sometimes adapted to film/television) has tried to rectify that lacking, but everything he does veers so far from ‘perfect Norway,’ imagery, it comes off as equally false; in fact, I’ve yet to witness a murder or drug deal going down anywhere in Norway. Okay okay I know it’s a genre, requiring a certain amount of gore, but much Scandinavian Noir has a distinct travel lit/doc component of a realistic bent, with a believable mixture of the good and bad of life. I reject Nesbo because his violence has an American bang-bang, tough guy slant to it (the murders not nearly as innovative as Henning Mankell’s for example). Oh yeah, there’s also the fact that Scandinavia has a far lower murder rate than the U.S. So Nesbo’s transfer of our gun-loving, he-man culture to the Oslo environs is false in this instance also. There. I’ve been wanting to say all of that about Nesbo for a long time.
Not through with beautiful Norway quite yet because my mom’s paternal family, the Florens, originated from the area around Trondheim. The city is farther north, on the coast, and from what I’ve seen is yet more scenic grandeur. One begins to long for a few miles of East Texas and a broken-down gas station or two just to break the gorgeous monotony (Just kidding). I’ve been to Trondheim twice, but very briefly both times, so I will only say that the Nidaros Cathedral is grand big European city-feeling, and the city of around 200,000 seems prosperous and livable (but I’ve never read a murder mystery written about creative serial killers in Trondheim so maybe not so interesting?).
Now for Sweden. I’ve been in and about Stockholm a few times, flying into, passing through, attending a dance festival, and to Ystad because it’s the site of my favorite Swedish Noir murder mysteries of all, Henning Mankell’s Kurt Wallander series.
And, finally we get to the place at the heart of this ramble. I traveled to Funasdalen, Harjedalen Municipality, Jamtland County, Sweden to visit my fourth cousins, grandma Magnhild’s people. Where the scenery changes dramatically. I took a train from Trondheim to Roros on the Norwegian Swedish border…yes, traveling through more of the grand geographic spectacle that is Norway. But from Roros to Funasdalen is 76 km partially consisting of rolling, more-open land, partly taiga (mostly coniferous)-appearing forest. It’s pretty without being grand. And that description might fit much of Sweden, not unlike northern Minnesota: fairly flat with, in northern areas, the deciduous taiga forest of pine and spruce and then, even further north, arctic tundra.
However, Funasdalen and Tannas, 18km away and Magnhild’s actual home, is on the edge of impressive skiing mountains, not at all a typical scene in Sweden. In fact, this area is important, winter and summer for hiking, fishing, and connections with the Sami culture nearby. According to the cousins, reindeer drives come near here, and I was fortunate to see some of the great creatures here and there along the roadsides, even what appeared to be an albino baby.
I began this essay thinking that if I talked about the geography of my ancestry it would explain certain traits and beliefs and perhaps how they vary between locations. The more I wrote, the less that seemed to be the case, other than in the historical sense. Here’s my excuse for including it: 1) Remember this blog is also my ‘whole life’ (as opposed to daily) journal; 2) I may want to read about visiting ancestral lands someday when my mind has pretty much sloughed off the reality of actually ‘being there,’ here…or anywhere, for that matter; and 3) The geography of the two countries has had an important influence on their worlds and political history, so maybe it’s pertinent after all.
More geography. More Norway and Sweden. Norway touching nothing but Sweden on one side and the wide wild Atlantic on the other. Sweden bordering Norway, Denmark and Finland directly just across narrow bodies of water from Germany, Poland, and the Baltic countries of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. Consequently, Norway was the ‘edge of the world’ while Sweden has always played an active role in Europe. As to the lay of the land(s), Norway’s terrain is almost entirely mountainous, and indented by deep fjords all the way up its full-length coastline, while Sweden is for the most part flat and forested. What follows is an aside, probably of interest only to cultural historians. And me.
While perusing my bookshelves as well as on-line sources (but never AI, I promise) for the perfect paragraph to share about the origins of the Norwegians and Swedes, I found information, new to me, that might be of interest to you. It is an interesting article from what appears to be a genuine organization with research and writing carried out by knowledgeable humans. The Conversation (The Conversation is “a nonprofit, independent news organization dedicated to unlocking the knowledge of researchers and scientists for the public good.”)—I believe in their authenticity based on checking with other known reliable sources.
Paraphrasing: During the last ice age (33,000 to 20,000 years ago) hunter gatherers in southwest Europe were isolated from groups further east. As the ice retreated, it appears that both sets of these early modern humans moved into northern lands. And here’s what’s weird. Based on extensive research, it seems hunter-gatherers from the Norwegian Atlantic Coast are more genetically similar to populations east of the Baltic Sea, while hunter-gatherers from what is Sweden today are genetically similar to populations from central and western Europe. A sort of west to east and vice versa . This could be explained by an initial push north from Germany and Denmark and then an additional migration from the northeast when northern Finland and the Norwegian coast also became ice-free.
The study goes on to say that the DNA of present-day Scandinavians are quite dissimilar to that of those early hunter-gatherers because of successive waves of migrants from various locations in Europe. (Site: https://theconversation.com/ancient-dna-sheds-light-on-the-mysterious-origins-of-the-first-scandinavians-89703) So maybe not so pertinent to my DNA, but fascinating anyway.
Since this is a rambling personal sort of essay I am going to add a somewhat connected note. I have claimed for years to believe I was best fitted to have studied cultural/human geography in college; my excitement over discovering the study reference listed above proves that (only to me…but still…). I couldn’t help myself; I did a search to find human geography programs at colleges and universities in the U.S., and then broadened it to check out English language programs in the subject anywhere. There are quite a number it turns out; when I did a similar search years ago, I remember there being only a few.
Therefore, I’ve added a degree in Human Geography to my to-do-before-I-die list, or the Before Death Bucket List (BDBL). Silly? Of course. But also, rather fun (and yes, a bit melancholic). The good news is I found an enticing textbook for one of the programs that I do believe I’ll order. Advice to old people is that we keep learning, problem-solving, challenging our dying brains so they last long enough. So, friends…if we are to maintain our super-ager(!) status, go back to college (figuratively) and never never succumb to AI slop in any form.
Now, I must do what editing I can, find some photos, and post this disjointed ramble. One more Swedish essay and then we move on to Koochiching County, Minnesota. Now are you excited?
I so look forward to your posts. I especially agree with your ending to this one. “Advice to old people is that we keep learning, problem-solving, challenging our dying brains so they last long enough. So, friends…if we are to maintain our super-ager(!) status, go back to college (figuratively) and never never succumb to AI slop in any form” !!!!!!!