Sweden in Euphoria!

We are the same age The Eurovision Song Contest and I. Born the same year. When I was a child this event was a black and white thing, as it’s medium was television, broadcasted by The European Broadcast Union. It was a quiet, serious and grand event, all in the same. The songs were accompanied by a symphony orchestra, each country brought their own conductor. The contestants were grown up men and women standing up right before the microphone stand dressed like for a black tie dinner. And as I remember it, there was this rule, saying that the songs were to reflect it’s country’s musical tradition. France or England usually won, so it was either a French chanson or a British pop making history.

Every Swedish family gathered in front of the TV set with a bowl of snacks and a soda. And it’s interesting cause tonight, about 50 decades later, Eurovision Song Contest brings out the same pattern. The TV sets and the snack bowls are bigger, the event is an explosive party of colors, fire, smoke, wind, water and creative outfits. But it sure still is a camp fire, not only in Sweden, but in most of Europe.

There is also one more difference. Europe is so much bigger today then 56 years ago. Tonight 26 countries are competing in the final, the semi finals were 42, which is an all time record. ESC was a sleepy thing for a lot of years, but all the eastern countries, which are now a part of Europe, have infused the competition with tons of energy, and France and UK are rarely the winners anymore.

2012 the final of The Eurovision Song Contest is taking place in Baku, Azerbadjan who won 2011, another country we are getting a chance to peep into for a moment. The entries are a mix of pop-folk-house-power ballads-ethnic-rock and cross over. And I am thinking that the original idea of the countries expressing their cultures is actually more alive now the is was during the sleepy years. The Eastern European countries have strong traditional traditions. Although they frequently are working hard to act western, the songs are often transparent from history and pride.

And the Eurovision Song Contest 2012 just took a nerve wrecking turn for my home country. The vote started minutes ago, and leading right now by 14 points is Sweden! Loreen, a Swedish dervish with a wall of long black hair floating with her fluttering outfit in her house-inspired song Euphoria is in top of the 26 countries. And things are progressing, now the lead is by 38 votes!

Is Sweden going to take this?! Winning ESC is huge, and it brings consequences, it’s a bit like getting the Olympics. Azerbadjan had to do quite a bit of cleaning up and build a new super arena in no time. Last time Sweden won this event I was a journalist working for Sveriges television, the national Swedish public service television network. Wow, Loreen is in top with 56 points now! Anyway, last time the show I was working for back then was canceled together with quite a few other shows, because… Wow again, Sweden is 94 points ahead of the game! Anyway, because the money was needed for the ESC broadcasting.

Did I already say nerve wrecking? Four countries left voting. Now Germany, one more 12 points, and it looks like Sweden is winning this! Russia puts in one more 12 points, and yes, the game is over. Irland is the final country voting, 12 points to Sweden, and the Swedish dervish Loreen is winning Eurovision Song Contest 2012 this very minute! See you in Stockholm next year!!!

 

The art of bringing it together

-       It will age like our red cedar.

We are looking at the exteriors of The Umeå Arts Campus, Harold, Trouble 1 and me. It’s the opening day of the new Bildmuseet (Art Museum). The campus is a free flow of buildings and people celebrating this new focus point for arts and culture, sitting right at the Umeå River traveling towards the Botnia Bay.

The Umeå Academy of Fine Arts, The Umeå Institute of Design, The Umeå School of Architecture, HUMlab-X, and now Bildmuseet. It’s all there, brought together. The origin of the campus is two carefully renovated industrial red brick buildings. These older structures are now joined by four boxy buildings designed by Henning Larsen Architects, characterized by the as well boxy and irregularly placed windows. Bildmuseet is rising high above with its six floors of exhibitions space, and the campus has a yellowish look from it’s façade covered with skinny sticks of Siberian larch tree.

-       It will age like our red cedar.

It’s Harold contemplating the exteriors as we admire this new sight in Umeå. And he is right. The Siberian larch will turn from yellow to a silvery grey in a couple of decades. Just as the Red cedar does in the Beautiful Northwest in US.

This is a very special moment for Harold, Trouble 1 and me. Harold is the reason to why my family and me first came to Seattle, as he and my sons' dad worked together and Harold at that time lived in Seattle. Harold and his wife Annie right away adopted my sons as their grandchildren, and from that day they have been their American grandpa and grandma. They became our guides and benefactors in a foreign city and country, and the places they introduced to us are uncountable and unforgettable. Drives to in the middle of nowhere as well as stops at all the must see places.

And the picture I am carrying inside me is two little boys, 4 and 6 years old, holding tight to their art kits, purchased at Seattle Art Museum, SAM, first time Harold and Annie took us there. Two little boys, Trouble 1 and Trouble, 2 safe under the wings of their American grandparents. Always respectfully encouraged in their artful expressions by Harold, being an architect with an eye that appreciated every drawing the little boys proudly stuck under his nose.

And life is such an artwork. Because this spring Harold is teaching as a guest professor at the Umeå Institute of Design. And at the big day of the opening of Bildmuseet Harold, Trouble 1 and me are meeting up in the foyer to share this moment. Trouble 1 and I are so happy and proud introducing Harold to this new art piece of Umeå. It’s pay back time, finally! Well well, what do you know? As Harold has been at the campus for about a month now, and spent the day listening to student presentations at Bildmuseet, he already knows the place! Harold is guiding Trouble 1 and me from top to bottom of this new Umeå landmark and everything is just as it used to be; Harold knowing his way around in the art world and Trouble 1 and me tagging along!

I am looking at the two of them, Harold and the boy, not 6 anymore but 26, and physically it’s now Harold who is under the boy’s wings. The young man is starting up his business as an illustrator and right this day picked up his new laptop designated for work and purchased with art money. I am moved by memories listening to Harold’s questions about his artwork, the nodding “aha” that’s always been paying such great respect to whatever those little boys came up with. I am realizing Harold has such a great deal in the self esteem and confidence my sons have in what they want to do in their lives and with their lives.

And I am so grateful. To the art world that Harold introduced to us in Seattle way back. To Umeå that provides such a creative atmosphere and environment. To Harold who has been and is the most wonderful and significant inspiration to my family. And to life, that brings it all together.

The chosen ones

It’s a big thing. It’s a really big thing. Browsing the former names of the title I’m thinking it’s kind of hard to grasp how big. Athens was first, then a line up of iconic places: Florence, Paris, Madrid, Luxembourg, Prague, Liverpool, Istanbul. To name a few. A few of the chosen ones.

 It was the Greek actress Melina Mercouri and her French counterpart Jack Lang who came up with the idea of designating an annual Capital of Culture to bring Europeans closer together by highlighting the richness and diversity of European cultures and raising awareness of their common history and values. To start with, one city a year was picked out, it later changed to two and sometimes three. More then 40 cities have been designated this far. Sweden has carried the title once; Stockholm was the European Capital of Culture in 1998. Who would have thought the next Swedish city to make it to the finals and win this desirable title would be… Umeå?!

But that’s the case! Umeå, a city of about 116 000 people on the 63^rd latitude is going to be the European Capital of Culture in 2014! A group of persistent politicians, officials and enthusiasts played the game well for a lot of years and Umeå was designated in September 2009. We will hold the title for the year in companion with Riga in Latvia.

So, five years to get ready for the big party. Seems like a pretty long time. But Seattle, you have done this once, right? Arranging the Worlds Fair must be something along the lines of what European cities are going through realizing the expectations being a Capital of Culture. A big thing. A very big thing.

Actually two things. It’s content, and it’s surface. A Capital of Culture has to deliver. Melina Mercouri’s intentions were high. The Commission of the European Union hasn’t lowered the bar, and the international panel of cultural experts in charge of assessing the proposals of cities for the title according to criteria specified by the European Union, is a serious bunch of people. So, when it comes to content expectations are high from the people who believed in us in 2009.

And as for any big party the hosts want their place to look nice when the guests arrive. Umeå is a young city, rebuilt after the great fire in 1888 and remodeled in the sixties and seventies, not the most exciting time for city planning and architecture. To be honest, Umeå isn’t that pretty. It isn’t special. It looks like most Swedish cities with a similar story. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a nice town. It’s a really good town to be a part of. But you need to be here some time to find out, the surface won’t make you fall in love at first sight.

So, the big party is coming up, the guests will be arriving in about 1,5 years, and we are sweeping the floors, cleaning up the kitchen and building a new front porch. Glasgow, Lisbon, Bologna, Graz, Cork, Essen, Brussels, I guess they all did the same thing, in their own way. As Seattle did at the Worlds Fair 1962. We want to do our best, be our best. We are stretching to live up the expectations, to succeed with the assignment we have been given. It is quite a responsibility being the chosen ones. And it should be.

Big day deadlines

Oh how I wish I was there today! One more big day in Seattle coming up! One more important deadline to reach and keep. Over the years there are some big occasions in Seattle that I missed out on. The implosion of the Kingdome (the late baseball and football stadium) in 2000, yeah, that’s a big one. The demolition of the southern part of the Alaskan Way Viaduct 2011. Sounds like it’s a lot of going down in Seattle. Yes, but things are coming up too! I missed the opening of the Seattle Central Library 2004. But I was actually there for the opening of the new opera house, the McCaw Hall in 2003!

And I watched Bill Gates mythical building site for a lot of years in the mid nineties while driving east on the 520 Bridge crossing Lake Washington – there is a deadline that was postponed so many times that we stopped waiting for his new super digital home to ever get done. And yes, I missed the Light Rail finally starting to run after a century of discussions in 2009. On the other hand, I was in Seattle when Botniabanan, the new and very much looked forward too coastal railway in northern Sweden made its maiden voyage 2010.

Anyway, today it was. The Next 50’ World’s Fair Celebration Opening Day! While the space shuttles are now definitely retired and Space Age has come to an end, Seattle’s former future fair grounds are moving forward. The Jetson rocket Space Needle from 1962 isn’t a rusty and worn down embarrassing relic, but a still star-reaching object with its roof this week freshly painted in a “galaxy gold” retro color. And I can tell from the forecast that it is going to be a beautiful day; 67°F (19,5° C) and sun! What a party Seattle, what a party!

And you know what. I am not even gonna try to give Umeå any exclamation marks today. Today I am going to be exclusively biased when it comes to my two cities. Because… it’s snowing. Yes, your heard me right. It’s April 21 and it’s been snowing all day. Don’t laugh, because I am not. I am giggling though at the rumor telling the roof of the Space Needle only got half painted for the Opening Day. Isn’t that funny? No matter what the deadline is: a story, a party, a home, a building, there is always something that’s only half done when the big day comes!

Fair grounds

Umeå mid January 2014. I wonder what it will be like. Only days before the grand opening of Umeå being the European Capital of Culture for that year.  Will those new buildings all be done? The redesigns of squares and parks completed? All the projects in place? It’s not even two years until we are there and most things are still up in the air. Will they have a smooth landing?

50 years ago Seattle was ready for take off. Century 21 Exposition – the 1962 Seattle World’s Fair was just days away from opening. What was it like? The intentions were bold and brave. A city at the far west that created a fair of, for and about the future. A transformative event that captured the imagination of the world and introduced Seattle as a global city. Wow. And an architecture that embodied that spirit, reaching for the stars! Yes, this was the era of optimism, of space age, of a handsome young media president.

The civic leaders of Seattle at that time had a vision that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Their dual purpose was to celebrate their city while stimulating its growth, and to create the enduring legacy of a permanent civic center, the Seattle Center. It’s amazing how well they succeeded. Being that bold and brave doesn’t necessary mean that the ideas will work. Not at that specific time and certainly not 50 years later. But they did, and they still do!

Knowing what Umeå is going through now, the city rapidly changing to be dressed up for 2014 and the emotional and practical turmoil the residents of Umeå are facing, I can imagine Seattle World’s Fair stirred up quite some feelings. 13 square blocks were going to be transformed for the site and more then 200 houses were demolished and passed into the past to make room for the future. Eddie Carlson, chairman for the Washington World’s Fair Commission conceived the vision of the Space Needle after dining atop of the television tower in Stuttgart, Germany.  People’s homes replaced by a Jetson rocket weren’t everybody’s cup of tea, so to speak. Therefore, how fortunate it is that those purposes from the civic leaders at that time came true. Seattle Center became and is the much loved and treasured center point of the city that they envisioned. 12 million people visit the Center every year, and 2012 the vision is The Next 50, once again looking into the future.

So, April 15 1962. The opening is six days away, April 21. What was it like? The monorail, the train into the future was already up and running. Were the arcs at the United States Science Pavilion (now Pacific Science Center) already striving white towards the sky, or was somebody balancing paint cans on that delicate design? Did the elevators in the Space Needle test run and how about the restaurant on top of it, did it already revolve? And I can only imagine the nerve wrecking assignment making the sound technique work for the opening ceremony. President John F Kennedy holding the opening speech from Florida. His voice heard by 12 000 people seated in the Center stadium and on the fairgrounds. It was an optimistic president talking about cooperation and radio waves, space age and peace.

-       May we open not only a great World’s fair, may we open an era of peace and understanding among all mankind. Let the fair begin!

Seattle Center is a place for everyone. The water of the International Fountain invites young and old, black and white, Americans and foreigners. The festivals gather the world in arts and food. It’s peaceful lying on the lawn watching the Needle and the arcs aiming for the sky. It’s a place for understanding among mankind. And I am hoping that The European Capital of Culture 2014 will create that kind of space and spirit in Umeå too. I am hoping for  a smooth landing and fair grounds.

Easter Day considerations

-       Are you sure this is what you want to do on Easter Saturday? The question came from my dear neighbor and relative Bertil, 91 years young. Yes, I am very sure, positive, I responded.

Bertil is my mother’s cousin and he lives down across the field from me, I can see his house from my kitchen window. It is yellow, with a beautiful bakers cottage, barn and well on the front yard, everything very well kept. This is the original family homestead, where my grandfather and Bertil’s father were born. Summertime we can take a short walk across the field to say hi to each other. But not now.

One foot. That’s how much snow we had that day a week ago. It was 14°F at my early Monday morning take off, and Trouble 2 had to come shovel me out from my snowed in fortress for my full day of fun at the hospital. Appropriate; that’s what my cancer winter was like, cold and snowy. Extremely cold and snowy.

Being back in all those waiting rooms is a trip back and down. This is what it was like. That fear. Breasts. Those nice nurses seeing things with their cameras that are hidden from me. Lungs. A couple of more pictures, we didn’t quite catch everything. Skeleton. Half an hour while the camera is working it’s way through my body. Half asleep to the sound of the nurses’ everyday small talk about this and that while I am screened hunting for death.

And then waiting for my oncologist. That waiting room. Wigs and naked heads. I used to be one of them. I was one of them. I had a great wig! I had never looked so good before, never gotten so many compliments in my life! And my naked scull was soft and even, I looked pretty cool, like one of those brave models. Only without eyebrows and lashes. And here I am today, preparing for the message if I am going to keep my hair this time, or if I am going to be one of them again. The wigs and the naked heads.

The walk through that waiting room after meeting with my oncologist is a weird thing. I was spared. Breasts, lungs, skeleton, all cleared! No cancer anywhere, everything clean and clear. I was spared. This time I was spared. I can go home. I am passing the door to the room where patients are lying on beds, sitting in chairs, fluids running into their bodies chasing for cancer cells, attacking tumors. I know that one of them is the wife to an old friend of mine, I met them in the cafeteria between the lungs and the skeleton. They are in there together. They are in this together. And I can go home. This time I was spared.

It’s white and bright and clean outside this Easter, from all that snow that fell a week ago. And it’s white and bright and clean inside me. I got a second chance. Again. My dear neighbor Bertil, 91, and I had a nice meal together in my warm and cozy kitchen on Easter Saturday. He told me stories about my grandparents who built my house and cooked the food in this very kitchen when Bertil was a little boy, his uncle and aunt. And we traveled the family tree together back to 1735, to Olof Olofsson who was a farmer here in the village and from whom Bertil and I descend. That’s the past that I am carrying within me. But what’s the future? I have been spared, and every time it happens I feel resurrected. Something that comes with relief, happiness, gratitude, strength and a great deal of pressure and responsibility. Some things to consider on an Easter Day.

Balancing an after life

 It’s snowing in Umeå today. April’s fool, it feels like. A tight, wet, sharp snow cutting into my face on my morning Nordic Walking-walk. The weather is appropriate for my assignment today though.

Three years ago at this time I was in the middle of chemotherapy. Pretty much exactly two years ago I was cleared from a terrifying scare; no, the dark spot that covered my right hip ball wasn’t a malignant metastases after all, only some degeneration. March 30 2010 my after life started, I got my self one more birthday and a second chance to live.

Tomorrow is my yearly check up. A full day of x-ray hopping fun at the University hospital. I feel like preparing for a long-trip divided into all these stops on a tight schedule. Yeah, the take off is even an early morning one, those I really do hate.

Three years ago. I’m reading my journal 4/1/09: “On the 7^th day from my 2^nd chemo treatment. Feeling sick. A soar throat and mouth, nausea, pain in my chest and body. Constipated. All I want to eat is salt.” A couple of days earlier I had received an email from my friend Elizabeth in Seattle: “Trouble 2 is sent from heaven. He took care of house, dog and daughter while we were in the hospital”.

The situation was bizarre. I was fighting the aftermaths of a tumor in my breast and hers was on a tonsil. I was three months in to my cancer journey when Elizabeth’s was discovered. My youngest son, Trouble 2 and his girlfriend, was only two weeks from leaving Umeå to spend spring in Seattle, staying with Elizabeth and her family. And so he did. With three months experience from a cancer sick mother, he moved in with another one for three months, this time one of his Seattle moms.

Elizabeth and I first met summer -95 when my family rented a house across the street from her family in Madrona. I had two young sons, she two young daughters. We became close friends and our lives have since then been interlaced. We have been dressed up in Las Vegas and dressed down in a cabin on the Olympic Peninsula. Her family has spent Midsummer in my little Swedish village, and we became ferry commuters when they lived over at Bainbridge Island. Our children went to school together, and all four of them are now in the start of creating their grown up lives. Over the years we have shared happiness and fear, hope and powerlessness, tears and laughter. And then cancer.

Today we share the experience of being survivors. Last September when I was flat down with my back out in Seattle, I woke up one morning with a bruise on my hand. Realizing that it was the second time in just a couple of weeks I got really scared. There is no fear like the cancer fear. There is nothing like it. Cancer is not negotiable. And if your old cancer shows up again, it will kill you. It’s as simple as that.

Well, that evening Elizabeth came over to my place. She sat on my bed and I showed her my bruise and she said: “You know, I get bruised so much easier than I used to.” And we talked about our poor scarred bodies and ate the comforting Swimming Rama she brought, knowing that what we share is something very special, and no one outside can never ever understand what it is like. Being a survivor. Been given a second chance, although always dreading that next check up. Balancing life and death.

It keeps snowing. Half a foot now.