Post Scriptum

Coffee at the airport

Oslo to Newark

in an aluminum tube at 30,000 ft at 500 mph

but first by way of a 2 hour refueling stop in Bangor, Maine

because of 150 mph headwinds

from a snowstorm on the East Coast

then a chance to make it because of a delayed flight to Denver

running through customs

then again through security

from one end of the building to the other, to Gate 103

running on adrenaline after 14 hours of travel

Newark to Denver

3 1/2 hours of smooth travel to Denver, but very late

missed my flight home for sure or so I thought

arrived at 10:30 p.m.

my delayed flight to Salt Lake City still at Gate 50

because of mechanical problems (the cabin door wouldn't seal)

it was still being repaired at 11:30 p.m.

then good news over the intercom

"We are boarding the flight to Denver."

Denver to Salt Lake City

Into the air at midnight.

Clear, smooth, silky black skies.

1:30 a.m. we glide down to Salt Lake City

an emerald of light in the darkness

I ask through the cabin, "Is anyone going to Park City."

One courageous soul responds, "I am."

"May I have a ride?"  "Yes."

He dropped me off in front of my door at 2:03 a.m.

Clear sky. Calm. 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

The kindness of strangers is the binding force of life.

Home.

+

Thanksgiving Day 17 years ago Emma was born to us.

I'll make it to the party at 10 a.m.  I am very glad.

Happy Thanksgiving to you, wherever you are, with whomever you celebrate this day.

A Final Note

A winter storm awaits me, probably, on my arrival to the USA.  As with all travel, there is always the unexpected. Oh well. Its out of my control. I will weather the weather, hoping for the best, prepared for the worst.  I'll see you (or not) on Thanksgiving Day.

J

Home

Anne's home in the frame in this frame.

Today, Tuesday, my last day in Norway, in Oslo and on the continent.  We walked from Anne's flat to the Holmenkollen, the "island hill", the ski jump. It was a beautiful day. The first sunny day in Norway. Maybe 45 degrees, no wind. We walked up to the Olympic jump, went all the way to the top and there had a stunning panorama of Oslo, its islands, the forests all around. Then we took the tram to downtown Oslo to the World War II Resistance Museum. They only had 15 minutes left until they closed, so we got in free. Resistance was difficult then and now. Widerstand is the name in German. So important to know what to resist and to what to submit. Then we walked in the dimming light to a wonderful restaurant on the water for a final dinner and conversation.  A bottle of great Portuguese wine, pasta, dessert, wonderful ambience, good table waiting. Our waitperson was a 21 year old man from Cuba who spoke perfect Norwegian, English and of course Spanish. A last supper I suppose. We took public transport home.

The Oslo Harbor Fortress in a reflecting pool

Home, its where they have to let you in.  Or maybe its where you someday want to return. Or maybe its a place you have constructed for shelter: emotional and physical. Home.

Emma's birthday is on Thursday, Thanksgiving. I hope to make it back for that. I am grateful for all who made this trip possible: my parents, my European friends Gustav and Petra in Germany and Anne in Norway, my American friends, John Fry, Jeff Beebe and Lyndon Nygaard who got me to the airports, my 2nd cousins in the Twin Cities, Linda and Carol and finally my daughter who said, "Go Daddy."

Peace to all who have joined me in this journey by reading this blog.

Jeffrey Louden

The Holmenkollen Ski Jump in Oslo

At the skiing museum a chance to be the explorer

A selfie at the Holmenkollen

Grey sky, 2 degrees and a light rain, Sunday still

I suppose that knowing someone from another culture, knowing someone for many years who has a different starting point, gives one a window into a different life.  Maybe. The window isn't large and isn't always open.  Its a window, not a door. To be a door it takes years and oftentimes learning a language, a culture, a history. Still a window is enough. The window not only lets light in, but lets light shine out. It lets one peer in to get a glimpse of how life is somewhere else.  This is one of the gifts of travel and of relationships between continents. There are many ways to be human.

Sunday Anne left for church and I stayed behind to write and just be. A half hour before worship I put on my jacket, locked her door, then began to walk down to her congregation, Voksen sogn, Voksen Parish, in a light drizzle.  The church bells rang, signaling many things: the beginning of worship, the role of religion, the call to community, the relationship here of church and state, perhaps simply a beautiful tone. The liturgy was instantly recognizable.  The place was packed.  Three baptisms that day.  Great music with piano and trumpet.  Proud parents in traditional Norwegian clothing (Bunad) Then she gave her sermon on Christ the King Sunday, the end of the church year, with the text of Matthew 25, "you did it to me when you did it to the least of these."

Anne is beloved in her parish. And she in turn loves them. Multiple people told me in very good English how much they liked and loved her as their pastor. Good.

After cookies and coffee and conversation we drove home, up the hill for a nap, then to watch a Swedish film, "Sa Som i Himmelen" (as it is in heaven) about a famous conductor and his small town, to which he returns after a heart attack, to recover, then to come to terms with his childhood and his life by teaching a small church choir how to sing, how to gain their voice.  We both cried.

Afterwards we shared a dinner of white fish, vegetables, aquavit, wheat beer.  A full good day.

Two days left.  I can already feel the "turn" to home.  Its only fitting that if the flights work, I come home on the eve before Thanksgiving, the day of my daughter's birth 17 years ago.

The baptism at the Voksen church

Sunday Morning in the dark

Sunday Morning. A light snow falls. Its dark and early. I'm up, alone. Daylight is only about 8 hours long here at 60 degrees North. The tilt of the earth's axis is well, real. Sunday. Anne will lead worship and preach at her parish, the Voksen Church, this morning. She'll go early and then later I will walk to church from her flat, about 30 minutes, all downhill. 11:00 a.m. Lutheran worship in Norwegian.

Yesterday we walked the Vigeland Park, a famous place with large statues depicting the stages of life. These granite figures made by Gustav Vigeland for a world fair seem almost alive. Their granite carries the tensions of life, its joys and sorrows, its beginning and end.

We looked at Anne's old albums from our first year at seminary in 1978! and then the various times we have met over the years, Albuquerque, Leoti, Glenwood Springs, Park City. We are no longer skinny young friends. Life has enriched and scarred us both, full good lives for both of us. Its fair to say that we are deeply grateful.

J

At the park on Saturday

Near Glenwood Springs, CO 1987

60 Years of Life + November 19

Anne and her mom Ellen in Drammen

My life has been rich by any measure. My parents provided for all six of us siblings. I grew up in the American west, had the opportunity to live for two years overseas, worked a job where my job was helping people ask questions about life and meaning and purpose, was blessed with a daughter, have had the privilege to travel, and now I am here.

Today Anne has taken me to her parents' home in Drammen on this my birthday. Born in Denver, I now find myself in this small Norwegian harbor town.  I asked Anne if we could do this. I was here 30 years ago to visit her, experienced hospitality from her parents then and again today. Arne and Ellen have prepared a midday meal for us, a typical Norwegian spread of meats, cheeses, breads, fish paste, coffee, tea.  I try it all except for the goat cheese.

The set table

After our meal and time with the Pettersens, we leave for the city center of Drammen, to meet one of Anne's friends. While we wait to meet her, Anne shows me the city's center, including this piece of art near the new city library, a sphere which reflects back, in distorted but beautiful fashion, a bit of who we are.

Reflection

Darkness descends early at this latitude and we head back to Oslo, 30 minutes away for a simple birthday dinner, just the way I like it, simple.  Anne is a happy woman, perhaps the happiest woman I have known and that in itself was reason enough to come visit.  Of course that is not the only reason. Her birthday, too, was 12 days earlier. She is also 60 and like Emma, a single child.

Happy Birthday(s)

So the journey does continue. Its all gift. Who knows what the future holds? Its hard enough to discern what the past holds and hides. 

German Life

"A life without celebration is a long journey without respite."

Gustav, Hilda, Hans and Petra

Sunday +  We left our hotel to drive home to Germany, but not before we hiked one last time in the Dolomites, near Brixen, to a high plain about 1800 meters high.  Snow lay on the ground from the night before, but only a little bit. The sun never quite broke through, but still, it was good enough for  a hike and a final glimpse of the Tirolean mountain splendor.  Then the journey back to Germany and specifically to Petra's parents, Hilda and Hans.  It was Han's 79 birthday, so we joined her parents for Vespern, i.e. a light evening meal of bread, beer, cheese, sandwich meats and a final toast with a liquor.  Honestly this was a highlight for me.  I tire of restaurants and "eating out." So it was so good to share a simple meal around a family event.  Happy Birthday Hans!  Now we are at Petra's in Schwarzach for a relaxed day of walking and talking in the forest, washing clothes, getting ready for re-entry into life in Regensburg tomorrow morning,  and my flight to Oslo!

J

"Vespern" for Hans' 79th Birthday

Innsbruck on the way back

The view into the Dolomites with the Etscher Valley

which flows all the way to Verona Italy

Mountains, Mist and Moving On

The Dolomites in very rainy, foggy weather on the way to Cortina

The sun fled us on Saturday, but we went out anyway to see if we might see the heart of the Dolomites, "die drei Zinnen" or in Italian Tre Cime di Lavaredo, but no luck. We drove to where we could see them if the clouds parted, but they did not. Still, to hike for a couple hours in the mist at the edge of the tree line, to know the peaks were above us even if we could not see them, was gift enough. We drove to Cortina, a famous ski town very similar to Vail, had lunch at a "working man's" restaurant, then drove back to our hotel, Sunnegg (Sonnenecke, or sunny corner) for a dinner and rest.

Now I write this on Sunday morning. The sun has come out. The church bells ring in this predominately Catholic area. We've had our coffee and breakfast. Soon we will drive the Brenner Autobahn, a famous roadway, on the way back to Germany, to Petra's family, to celebrate her father's 79th birthday in the hills of Bavaria.

Jeff

PS Because I am writing this in Italy, all the instructions for posting it on blogger.com are in Italian. Bon Giorno!

Messner, Mountains, Mystery

The Dolomites just above 2000 Meters

Friday + We drove from the Hotel Post East to the Dolomites. The Dolomites are a Unesco Heritage Site of stunning beauty. A range of sedimentary rock where mountain climbing began in some ways. On the way we stopped at the Messner Mountain Museum in Bolzano. Reinhold Messner is considered one of the greatest mountaineers of all time. Now in his old age, his project is the five museums he has created in Tirol. The one we visited was a former castle overlooking the city.  On the way in, there he was.  Bushy dark hair even at 70! I introduced myself (of course he didn't care and was in a hurry) and then shook his hand and said "thank you."  It was the second time I had met him, the first being in Salt Lake City two years ago at the outdoor retailer show. The museum explored the role that mountains and mountain climbing play and have played in human history, especially the role of risk, self-reliance and beauty. Missing from the museum was any mention of "thank you" to his family, his parents, his partners, those who had gone before him.

Of course this is Europe and Tirol so our journey to the Dolomites wasn't hurried. We stopped and ate a very good and expensive lunch on the way into the peaks. The weather was "gemischt", i.e. clouds and sun, but mostly clouds. But heh, this is the middle of November in the Alps.

We arrived at the base of the western side of the Dolomites, at the start of a trail. We were alone. So into the late afternoon light we hiked toward the limestone spires of the range.  Just Gustav and I. No wind. No rain. Maybe 5 degrees Centigrade. Silence and then snow above us.

I write this blog on Saturday morning.  More clouds. A light mist. We will drive to another part of the range this day, the Drei Zinnen, the three spires. The mountains remind me a little of Maroon Bells. Steep, crumbly and beautiful.

J

Sued Tirol, the mountains of Italy and of Reinhold Messner

So we left on Thursday morning to travel to Tirol, specifically Sued Tirol, i.e. South Tirol, which is in Italy. On the way we drove through Innsbruck and then after a steep climb we passed this ruin, in Lake Resia, where the ancient town of Graun, founded in 1147, was flooded in the late 1940's by a dam project. All that remains is this church tower.

Tonight we (Gustav and I) are staying in an old hotel. We are the only guests. Three kilometers away is the tiny alpine town of Sulden, with one of Reinhold Messner's museums, the museum of ice. It was near here where Messner honed his skills as a mountaineer on the Ortler, a massive mountain with glaciers and steep walls.

I hope you all are well.

To Tirol!

Gustav and Petra at their business, Fennobed in Regensburg

Gustav is taking me to Tirol, to the Messner Museum, established by Reinhold Messner, the first human being to climb Everest without oxygen. We'll take the famous Brenner Autobahn and spend three nights in the Dolomites in a mountain chalet.   

Last year Gustav turned 60. Now its my turn.  What a gift to have friends around the world, from different cultures, and to share with at least one, a different language and shared history, to both know that there are many ways to be human and that no one way is the "right" way.

Regensburg | Wieder im Lande

On the Danube, which the Germans call the Donau...my old friend Gustav Hoffman. 

Regensburg exists because of the river. The Romans were here in 179 CE, probably earlier. But now I'm here with old friends, Gustav and Petra. Their Finnish bed business, Fennobed, is right along the river. In the next few days I'll go with him to Tirol, perhaps to the Reinhold Messner Mountain Museum, to Schwarzach to visit Petra's home and her family and then in a week to Oslo and Anne.

My German is ok.  I can understand everything. But speaking in it, comes harder, like I'm having to pull every word out of my brain. One region of my brain speaks English. Another German. Communication between the two is...well a struggle. Uebung macht den Meister, as they say.  Practice makes perfect. Gustav and Petra have bicycles which we use to travel around the city of 125,000.  Much of it is "car free".  Regensburg is the finest example of a city of the Middle Ages in Germany. And it has the oldest stone bridge to cross the Danube in Germany.

There is something wonderful about the German and European lifestyle which is healthier, I think, than the "American" way of life...they take time for coffee and conversation. They walk. They spend time at the dinner table. They know how to enjoy a good bottle of wine.

Gustav and Petra live in a beautiful simple 300 square meter apartment across the river from their business. The building was constructed 500 years ago for people with the Plague.  But now it is a "gemuetlich" house...a place of hospitality far removed from its history.

Their apartment

The First Threshold, about to cross "den grossen Teich"

Leaves on the seminary campus, Nov. 10

It snowed last night, about an inch. An inch!  The city convulsed. I told Carol, "Well, it is the northern hemisphere and we are in November and it is Minnesota!"  But what set it all ajar was ice.  Warm ground, cold snow, ice.  Carol took me to Luther Seminary to meet my friend Lyndon, who would take me to the airport, but not before we stopped at Garrison Keillor's bookstore, Common Good Books on Snelling Ave. 

At the seminary I attended morning prayer in the chapel. I talked with Mary Bengston Steeber for whom I used to work in the seminary kitchen. Then Lyndon Nygaard, my old friend, met me for lunch and took me to the airport.  Good thing! Flights cancelled all over the place because of ice.  I got on the 3:50 flight for Chicago which actually left at 6:10. My 6:30 flight from Minneapolis would not have made it. 

So now I'm in Chicago. One learns in an airport that one is out of control. Like many years ago on my first flight to Europe, I pass through this hub. From the Mid-west to Middle Europe.  The Lufthansa flight leaves at 9:30 and flies directly to Munich where Gustav will pick me up.  I'm ready. Time to go.

Lyndon Nygaard, my friend from Stillwater, MN

Sunday in the Twin Cities

Sunday began like many of my Sundays have begun the last 32 years, except this time I was not in the pulpit nor leading worship. Instead I was sitting next to my second cousin at St. John's Episcopal in Minneapolis. Wow! The place was packed. The music was outstanding. There were young and old people. The hospitality was refreshing. It was Gospel.  

In the afternoon I cleaned my cousin's gutters of leaves and then it was on to see David, one of the main reasons I flew through Minnesota.  Who knows why some people are given to us to be special? Who knows?  But I remember him when I was 7 helping me learn how to ride a bike. I remember him helping me with my car troubles at seminary in 1978 as we tried to fix my old Chrysler station wagon. And now I visit him after his many months in the hospital. Who knows? We talk. We go for a ride in his red Ford truck. I fill the front tires with air. We go to Starbucks to share a cup of coffee and a treat. 

Who knows?

Dave Loken, my second cousin, in his condo.

November 9 + The Berlin Wall, Carl Sagan and The North Country

Berlin Wall 1977
"Isolation is torture"
JDL

November 9 + Twenty Five years ago today the Berlin Wall fell. It wasn't a passive action, it was brought down by people. I had just finished presiding at a wedding in Glenwood Springs in 1989 and was at the Mexican restaurant, in the bar, because they were full. The TV was on and it wasn't sports, but news, with gripping images of people climbing over the wall. I have a piece of that wall in a drawer at home.

Today is also the birthday of Carl Sagan (1934), one of my favorite scientists, who with his gentle manner also took down walls, walls of ignorance and fear and gave people the chance to embrace wonder toward the world with an attitude of skepticism. He wrote:

"My parents were not scientists. They knew almost nothing about science. But in introducing me simultaneously to skepticism and to wonder, they taught me the two uneasily cohabiting modes of thought that are central to the scientific method."

Cold and grey here today. Just like I remember it. A great place to study Lutheran theology, which in some ways is also cold and grey.  A good thing really. Not crazy but real, like the world.

Park City - Salt Lake City - Denver - Minneapolis/St. Paul.  Up at 4 a.m. Off to the airport. No problems. As we approached Denver the clouds bumped up against the high ridges of the western side of the Front Range, spilling over on to the plains.

I'm now at my Dad's cousin, Linda Miller, in Bloomington, near Edina. Linda's mother, Lorraine, my Grandpa Woody's sister, was so kind to me my first year of seminary in 1978. They gave me a place to stay those first few weeks, a home in the Midwest, a welcome in a foreign land. Cold here today. Blustery. Moist. It feels like the Midwest and not a bad thing. I'll start to add pictures in the days ahead. Thanks for reading and taking part in the journey.

Prologue to the Journey

November 7 + The journey begins.

On Thursday evening, late, Emma and I went to see Interstellar, the first night of the new science fiction movie with Anne Hathaway. Any movie with Anne Hathaway can't be all bad.  When I bought the tickets, the clerk automatically gave me the "senior" discount, $6.75 instead of $9.00. At first I grimaced, "I'm not 60 yet." Then I thought, "great!" This is a good way to begin the journey, that others see that I am entering the last third of my life.  If they can see it, then perhaps I can too.  So I am going to Germany to see my old friend Gustav, whom I came to know and love in the first third of my life and then Anne in Norway, whom I also came to know in that first year at Luther Seminary.

Every journey begins with guides. Mine is no exception. John Fry drove me down to Salt Lake City. Tonight I am staying with Jeff and Melissa Beebe in Salt Lake City who live on the East Bench. The lights of the city stretch out to the West. Jeff will take me to the airport in the wee hours. The flight leaves at 5:40 a.m. on a United flight to Minneapolis.

Most of my life has been about returning to where I have been before. This journey is no exception. I go back to Minnesota, where I studied theology and then to Europe, where so many years ago I came to love a language and a people not my own.

J