Jun 30, 2013

Never stop playing!/The Parkour Park


- I want to thank the City for believing in us and the obscure art of Parkour, which no one had heard of, impossible to explain. Today is truly a big day, thank you so much! And remember: never stop playing!

I am late, but the opening is late too and I am walking up the green slope just as Trouble 1 is holding his speech. I am so happy to be here. That I am able to be here this very moment. This, to my son and his friends, historic day.

Trouble 1 climbed before he could sit and walk. Trouble 2 was more cautious about his body, but of course tagged along with his older brother. And boys from the villages around the lake had a similar mind set, some more adventurous than others. The older they grew, the higher they climbed and jumped. The swings, tree tops, roofs, sandpits, big rocks, summer and winter, a lot of body and very little brain.

Nine-ten years ago they moved their physical activities from the rural place where they were children to a more urban setting. They had found the French extreme sport Parkour, which was just the perfect match and a natural development for their skills and urge.

Now, this was when my concerns about their intense extra curriculum PE stepped up to worries. The woods and sandpits are, after all, kind of soft. City alleys and parking garage aren’t. The ER visits became more frequent and I taught them not to run when someone called the cops because of their odd behavior, but to educate the Umeå police about Parkour and their doings.

Yesterday, the first of three planned redesigns for the downtown city parks was finished and opened to the public. Broparken (The Bridge Park) is a green rolling terraced slope facing the Umeå River and at the bottom there is the Parkour Park. The finest in the world. And I am listening to my oldest son inaugurating the park, thanking the City of Umeå for believing in him and his crazy friends, making their impossible dream come true.

It was about seven years ago when they first started making their initial sketches for a Parkour park. They were leaning in bunches over my kitchen table, sighing about the dark future for their new love. I encouraged them to move forward and they did. They very much did.

They started a Parkour association, which has grown to be one of the biggest and most vibrant in Sweden. They have tons of classes and courses, winter and summer, and their students are from pre school age and up. Suddenly I could here them talking about meetings in the City Hall with top names within the City. They had no idea of course about the dignity of all this, only frustrated about the slow pace of the proceedings within the power of democracy.

Yesterday Umeå Parkour association UPKF and the City of Umeå opened the first outdoor park in the world specially designed for the art of Parkour. The early climber Trouble 1 and his adventurous friends have grown into young men, very responsible when it comes to everything connected to their precious baby Parkour. They have developed the initial park sketches at my kitchen table to a unique place in the world, and the City trusted them with an absolute prime spot for it, right at the river in downtown Umeå.

-       I want to thank the City for believing in us and the obscure art of Parkour, which no one had heard of, impossible to explain. Today is truly a big day, thank you so much! And remember: never stop playing!

   I arrived just in time to hear my oldest son, confident and natural, glowing of happiness, holding a
   speech at the opening of a City park. Broparken is the first achieved goal out of many planned for
   Umeå, The European Capital of Culture 2014. A bunch of crazy kids have accomplished an
   impossible dream and provided Umeå a cutting edge culture and a beautiful and functional place
   for it to happen. I am not sure that they completely comprehend the greatness of their achievement, 
   but I hope they will. Because it is extraordinary.

Jun 23, 2013

The family reunion


I am a bit overwhelmed. By the intense wind swirling in my hair and around my body all day. By the constant sound of the running river next to us. And the company of cousins I haven’t really met for a very long time.

Well, we actually did meet twice these last five months, saying goodbye to two fathers and uncles. And that’s how we came to decide on getting together not wearing black and enjoying each other in a different setting.

I wonder when we last saw each other on a festive occasion. I am guessing a New Years Eve in the mid seventies.

I think it is now statistically proven that people in general socialize more with the family on the female side than the male side. That’s true for my family too. I’ve spent most every Christmas, Easter, Midsummer, vacation and spring break with my mother’s family. My father’s family was bigger and didn’t get together as often on a regular bases. Except for New Years.

On New Years Eve our sixties brick house in the small town Nordmaling south of Umeå was filled with nine cousins, ten parents and a grandmother. My father’s ice lanterns bidding everyone welcome, his daughter’s nicely set table with silverware, mom’s festive food and us kids running up and down the stairs in the three story house up until the clock made us greet the new year and we exhausted were put to bed.

Four boys and five girls in the span of ten years. Today we met in the white wooden house at the beach of the wild running Öre River where my father and his five siblings were born and grew up. Now we are middle age. And only one of our parents is left, my dad’s baby sister Barbro, turning 80 this year.

So, we were sitting in the windy sun on the front yard enjoying our potluck and sharing our stories. Getting to know each other again. My dear aunt Barbro was the honorary guest of course. She was very quiet, unusual for us to see. Barbro lost her beloved husband not even two months ago. And being at her childhood home with all her nieces and nephews was I am sure very emotional.

It is sad knowing that most all our parents are gone. Us girls have promised each other to keep in touch and stay together although we are spread all over Sweden. It feels good. It feels really good. I feel enriched having connected to my childhood cousins again, and we are already planning for meeting again next summer.

It is late, this Sunday at the Midsummer weekend. It’s been a good one. My mother’s family on Midsummer Eve, dear friends Midsummer Day, and then today my father’s family. And the weather has cooperated for the most. The night is white and the blackbird is singing its summer song. It’s been a good one. And I am happy and grateful.

Jun 16, 2013

Chilly day/Warm neighborhood


-       Can we sit outside?

Now that’s probably the most common phrase in Northern Sweden during the summer. Combined with glances at the sky, looking for a crack in the clouds for the sun or worries about rain showers. And since we are directed indoors by the climate at least seven months of the year, the optimistic and brave answer for that question is often: we’ll give it a try! And then we put the fleece jackets on and wrap ourselves in blankets and shiver in the wind for a couple of hours while having our fika (coffee/tea with a little something), but hey, we are sitting outside!

I just had one of those moments this afternoon. My village is basically three parallel roads running north-south. I live on the upper road, at the foot of Dry Mountain. On a about a quarter of a mile (500 m) stretch there are seven houses, and I am at the south end. Next to me are Alida and her family who have been there since 1939, and of course all my life. Change of ownership of the homes on my road are very rare, but during this winter two new families have moved in, last time we had that kind of circulation was twenty years ago!

So, new neighbors are a big thing. Big thing! Will they be someone who I feel comfortable asking for a breakfast egg if I am out of it? Someone who merrily assists me when the car battery is dead? Someone to once in a while have a fika with? Or, will they even be someone to enjoy and have fun with?!

And I have to say, this time around, my road has scored! Next to Alida now, there is Ondina and her late teenage kids, and next to them Jenny and Hannes in their early thirties. They are all very much into gardening and nursing, so Ondina will take care of my hops babies growing like weed around my front porch and she is offered rhubarb from Alida’s prosperous beds.

Jenny and Hannes on the other hand are committed to trying out alternative farming and are interested in the overabundance of rocks around my place and the piles of sticks in my groves! Ondina’s son turned out being a gem washing and waxing my cars all shiny (I am paying him of course), and the other week when a splinter in my foot made me limp, Jenny was my nurse taking it out with a tweezers! As a neighborly service in return I was able to provide her oatmeal and cacao the other day when she was in need. Love it!

Today everyone at the road was invited to Jenny and Hannes for a getting-to-know-each-other fika. The regular Swedish very windy summer has arrived with temperatures at maximum 59° (15°C), overcast and rain. So, the question was, could we sit outside? Yes we could. It was pretty chilly, but the burgeoning warmth between people who not yet know each other but in good spirits are making an effort to start building something together made us stay a lot longer than the weather was telling us to. And we had so much fun!

Our new neighbors have dreamy plans of keeping chickens and beehives. What about Alida’s old chicken coop, would it be possible to move? And did anyone know if there were ever livestock in Jenny and Hannes’ old barn?

Alida knew, of course. Alida turned 96 this Wednesday. This last winter has been hard on her. She has lost more of her sight and her hearing is failing her. She enjoys company on-one, but groups are difficult. Last night her family of four generations and I celebrated her birthday and she was very reluctant to joining the neighborhood fika today. She told us she felt uncomfortable and old, outside and a burden. We tried to make her understand that she had a very important role though. That her job as the senior of seniors was to bid her welcome to the young newcomers.

And so she took her walker to her new neighbors. She sat at the table in her lovely red woolen sweater, tanned from all the hours in the sun this early summer. Her eyes a bit dim from glaucoma. Her mind wandering. So what about the barn, were there ever livestock in there?

Of course! Alida’s eyes are full of life again. The old lady Wahlqvist kept one cow and a pig in this barn, probably built 1927. There, we got our answer! And it seems very appropriate to put some kind of life into that barn again.

So, will my new neighbors be someone to once in a while have a fika with? Of course! Or, will they even be someone to enjoy and have fun with?! Absolutely!! We are already planning on our next occasion; a summer potluck, probably at my place where the sun lingers until it sets in the late evening. I am so happy. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I actually think this will change my life. And I am looking forward to a long summer, rain or shine, with my newfound friends building our little community at the foot of Dry Mountain.

Jun 9, 2013

The Light Box


I can picture it perfectly. It’s a rectangular box with sharp edges, even the top. It’s transparent and shiny and mirroring the surroundings. The longer sides and the back are convertible so that there is no inside and outside on a sunny and warm day. I am not sure how big it is, maybe 500-700 people, but with the sides and the back open allowing everyone who wants to join whatever happens in the front, it’s unlimited. I am talking about The Light Box!

We all know what a Black Box is. A dark room for theater and concerts. In Umeå there is also a White Box, a kind of gallery. The Black Box is of course perfect for it’s purposes. Total control of the light on stage and in the room. And during the dark parts of the year it’s nice and cozy to slip in to a warm and dim place to be entertained for an hour or two. This time of year, on the other hand, the Black Boxes feel like a gloomy sack, and you have to be really motivated to trade the precious early summer light outside for hours in the dark.

I am talking about living on the 64th latitude. Right now the day gets 40 minutes longer every week! Well, that is true for two more weeks, then it starts going the other direction and we are all panicking. Tonight the sun is setting 10.47 PM, rests for a little while beneath the horizon and rises again at 2.29 AM. No one in their right mind spends one minute more of the day inside than they have to! Trying to get people to pay money for being inside, no matter how interesting it might be, is like thinking you could get anyone to purchase time outside in January… good luck with that!

So, I frankly think my idea is brilliant! No more no less than a stage in a glass room! Letting us be inside and still not missing out of the rare and short-lived light that allures and haunts us.

To be honest, usually this time of year is only about the light. May and June can be disappointingly chilly, even cold, and a lot of times rainy and windy. So no matter how lovely it sounds, outdoor concerts and theatre is a very risky business for everyone involved. Now, imagine having the advantages of the light and the safety of a closed room! And when the light is combined with warm weather: an open room! Isn’t this just the perfect example of eating the cake and having it too?!

OK, so: a rectangular glass box with sharp edges. Transparent and shiny reflecting the surroundings. Walls convertible, erasing the lines between inside and outside. I was initially thinking the waterfront as the location for it. I still would like that, the closeness to the blue river and the new building for cultural arts, Väven, is attractive. But it’s filling up down there. And the whole idea of making the Light Box accessible to a lot more people than the 5-700 who can be seated inside requires a pretty big area. I am not done with the exact planes here as you can tell, but give me some time and I will!

Now, you might be thinking, what about the winter? Fair question. But not to worry. Glass nowadays is a very durable material and can be energy sufficient too. The box will get a winter coat on the roof though, an extra layer on top of the glass. 

And I can picture it perfectly. A lit up glass room surrounded by white snow, frost and alight torches. Winter and summer a diamond cut for eye and ear, adding a missing piece to the scenery and the scene: The Light Box!

Jun 2, 2013

A setting for dear memories


I am not sure if they are some kind of cherry trees, paradise apples maybe. Those in front of the church in the small town of Nordmaling south of Umeå, where my sister and I grew up. My childhood memory is those trees being absolutely covered in white at Midsummers, our celebration of summer solstice. I have been thinking time has made them more shimmering then they were, as our Midsummers are an unsullied sunny rare memory without dark edges or shadows.

But they are actually for real, those trees, we are noting in amazement at our arrival. It is still only May, but an unreal 80° (27°C) summers day on Friday when the family on my father’s side was gathered for yet another funeral. My dear uncle Lennart passed away some weeks ago only a few months after being diagnosed with cancer. Lennart was a tall, strong, handsome, elegant, well dressed, vital man who loved his senior life at the family beach house, and although he should have turned 82 just a few days ago, his passage was unexpected and much too early. And as Lennart was the last male in my parent’s generation we had to say goodbye to, it was a milestone to reflect and remain on.

He was an in-law, married to my father’s baby sister Barbro. They had 60 happy years together, and up until the end they still looked at each other with the glittering eyes of a couple who just fell in love. On Midsummer Eve 1956 they married in the white medieval church in Nordmaling, and now it was time for Barbro to say farewell to her husband, friend and life companion at the altar where they promised each other a life together in sickness and health.

I am thinking, the setting for the days of the wedding and the funeral might have been identical. This year’s spring was cold and at least three weeks late. Then the warm weather came over night about two weeks ago and has stayed with us making the nature explode and now we are three weeks early! Apple trees, cherries, lilacs, red campion, buttercup, cranesbills, cow parsley, globeflower and forget-me-not, meadows and groves becoming clouds of those precious early summer colors that are Midsummer to us. So my dear aunt Barbro had Midsummer in the white Nordmaling stone church once again, and the circle is closed.

During the ceremony I found myself thinking, living as a single person has an unexpected advantage; you don’t have to be the one left by yourself at the end of your life. If my ex husband and I had stayed together and lived until the now average of 80-90, we would have shared life for 60-70 years. Now we said our goodbye half way. It was painful. And the grief and emptiness from a divorce has its similarities with being separated by life’s ending. It’s an odd feeling appreciating a bittersweet gratefulness that my farewell has already happened. But deeper down also an embarrassing reaction that there will be no one missing me the way you are missing the one always carried in your heart, until the end of time walking beside you.

I am sitting outside my childhood church looking at the characteristic red bell tower. Note to Americans: Swedes in general don’t have a “childhood church” as we are one of the more secularized countries in the world. But I do. My mother used to sing in the church choir and so that’s where my musical life started too. Spending uncountable boring hours listening to sermons in this beautiful building constructed in the 15th century, I know every corner of it. Every painting has its fantasy story, the sculptures have been imaginary touched by my girl hand and the light from the colorful church window has played on my skin.

Being surrounded by this part of my childhood I feel like I am looking at myself. Every little bit of this picture I am sitting in, is so familiar it’s incorporated deep down in my body and soul. This is the core of myself. This is where I come from. This is me.

Afterwards in the late afternoon my sister and I are picking a bouquet of meadow flowers behind the old vicarage, just as we did every Midsummer with friends and family throughout our childhood. And we are giving this early summer symbol to our parents, visiting their grave at the creek, telling them that Lennart is no longer in the world where we all used to be. And we are walking in under the blossoming apple trees, letting them make a white roof above our heads.

Usually our early memories fail us in a reality check. Leaving us disappointed and in question of ourselves. Discovering the scenery and the childhood paradise apple trees being even more amazing than we remembered was overwhelming and truly wonderful. And I hope and trust that my aunt Barbro will have one more beautiful memory from the church where she married the love of her life.