Norway, Storytelling, Hearts and Roses

My Grandpa is a great storyteller. He is also 80-something (I'm not telling the exacts!) and not On The Internet, except for where other people have mentioned him, like on the Facebook for his town where he and my Grandma are nominated for a Lifetime Achievement in Community Improvement award. While I have photos, I'll not post any of him because Online Presence is a personal choice.

This week I had the luck of seeing my grandparents twice. It is only recently that I have considered this a blessing and not taken them for granted. They are tenacious travelers and former public school teachers, who favor experiences over possessions. Because of these attributes my father was born in Libya and my uncle in Germany. Their wedding anniversaries have taken our whole family to Australia, Sanibel Island, and most recently Hawaii. They were planning a couples' return trip to Tripoli this year, but decided against it once the revolution began. This does not begin to describe their globe-trotting ways.

As they are both the same age they have been through their share of health issues, but have always come out okay. My first memory of a hospital is visiting my Grandpa, following open-heart surgery. It seems that with age the stakes have gotten higher. This week they were "just passing through" on the way to get a part-cow, part-engineered sculpture heart valve. With something so new there's a feeling of approaching the unknown. I'm happy to report that as of today my Grandpa is doing great.

On their first visit this week, the bombing in Oslo and shooting at the youth camp had just happened. Grandma recalled their last visit to Norway & asking for directions to a popular tourist attraction. Everyone was really friendly, she recalled, and the directions they were given took them through family backyards, which they followed with no trouble from the residents. Grandpa told a story of walking through Oslo in the morning, in 1950. He passed a statue with roses at its base, to which a man was carefully tending. He greeted the man gardening, admired his work and continued on his way. A woman ran up to him in the street shortly after, asking if my G-pa knew who he'd just met. It was the king!

Can you imagine that happening? Here? Happening here in the 1950s, even? Imagine only your backyard and your neighbors'. Would you allow tourists from overseas to routinely traverse your property to get to an attraction? Would you give your neighbors' backyard as a route? It is so clear to me that Norway is a special place, even as I know so little about it.

This links to a mourning parade for Norway, which took place during the Molde Jazz Festival this last week.

Here is a beautiful photo-story featuring 150,000 Norwegians in a 'rose march' vigil supporting the victims of the recent violence.

Someone's home movie of a visit to Norway in the 1950s.

With image as sole indicator, Norway is strong, magical, and capable of coming back even stronger. Like someone I know.

Finally a video from VisitNorway.com:

Do you have a cherished family storyteller? Are you that somebody?

Where do you want to visit? How do you make travel happen?

*You can expect regular postings again. When I started this project I imagined being tenacious and planning ahead for anything and everything that could prevent me from achieving my goals, among them blogging 365. It seems I've gotten my reality check. Time to actually be, not simply desire.