Stockholm memories, scattered and smothered

First things first, or Loose Ends Tied Up While-U-Wait Department:

I arrived at Arlanda airport in Stockholm early in February 1969 without a coat but my condition did not last long. On my first day at the IBM building in Lidingö I met the colleagues with whom I would work for the next month. There was Herman Holm who managed the department, Conny Evborn (Conny is a man's name in Sweden), Lars-Öve Hultgren, another Lars whose last name I don't remember, and Gunnar Göhl (pronounced Goo-nar Yul). All of us were under 40. Gunnar spoke to his wife by telephone and then invited me to his home for dinner that evening. When Gunnar and his wife realized that I didn't have a warm coat with me, they let me use one of Gunnar's coats for the entire month I worked in Sweden. I returned it to him a month later with profuse thanks for their generosity.

Gunnar's wife, whose name I also do not remember, helped me learn a few more Swedish words. She said upon greeting me, "So you work with elvah trettio too?" and I, uncomprehending, cast a quizzical look at Gunnar. "Eleven thirty," he explained, and I realized his wife was referring to the IBM 1130 system I had come to Sweden to learn more about. I made a mental note to learn numbers in Swedish as quickly as possible, as well as how to make change and how to tell time, and I did. Those things are almost as important to know as how to find a toilet.

Knowing that Gunnar's wife also worked outside the home (not that common in the 1960s), I asked her what she did and her reply sounded like "I am Jeannie Kellogg," which drew more blank stares from me. I asked her to say it again, only slower. I listened very closely and heard "jee-nee-co-log." I made a gesture indicating I still did not understand what she did for a living. Only when she told me she was a doctor for women did the light dawn. Gunnar's wife was a gynecologist! This was probably the most embarrassing, awkward moment of my month in Sweden.

I remember going to the cinema one evening to see Franco Zeffirelli's new film Romeo and Juliet. The signs out front said Romeo och Julia. It was in English with Swedish sub-titles, and although I enjoyed the film it was a little strange to see Shakespeare's words in Swedish.

I remember watching episodes of the American program The High Chaparral on the TV set in my hotel room. Like Romeo och Julia, it was in English with Swedish subtitles. It was a western, set in Arizona in the 1870s, and it featured both Anglo and Mexican characters. It was a bit jarring to hear someone say "Si, señor" and read the Swedish equivalent (not "Jawohl, mein herr" exactly, but something close to it) displayed on the bottom of the screen

One afternoon Herman Holm invited me to join him for an evening meal and offered to drive. He had learned that I was a pianist and organist, and he stopped at the Lutheran Church he attended to show me their pipe organ. When he asked if I would like to play it I jumped at the chance [this is an Americanism meaning I said "Yes, definitely!" with enthusiasm; no actual jumping occurred]. The instrument was more than 100 years old. The keys one would expect to be white were brown, and the keys one would expect to be black were white. I think I played the old hymns "Holy, Holy, Holy" and "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" (Martin Luther's Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott) but I could be mistaken; memory is a strange thing and can play tricks on you. After dinner he delivered me to my hotel on Strandvägen in the Östermalm section of the city. Strandvägen is a broad avenue alongside a major canal. I told you in an earlier post that Stockholm is called "the Venice of the North".

Stockholm is about 300 miles south of the Arctic Circle, and at the time of year I was there daylight lasted from about ten o'clock in the morning (klockan tio) until three or four o'clock in the afternoon (klockan femton, klockan sexton using a 24-hour clock). The place probably would have seemed cheerier, less dreary, in June or July when there is much more sunlight, but I am glad to have had the experience I had.

I visited such places as Drottningholm and Konserthuset and Hötorget and Kaknästornet and Stadhuset and Gamla Stan, each of which you may look up for yourself if you are curious. One day I witnessed the changing of the guard at the Royal Palace, and one day I went shopping at NK (pronounced En-Ko), an abbreviated way of referring to Nordiska Kompaniet, the big department store, where I bought Swedish toys for my children and had six crystal water goblets (Kosta's Gustav VI Adolph pattern) shipped home for my wife in Florida. Fortunately, they arrived in perfect condition.

I left Sweden a bit poorer, but also quite a bit richer.