Bob Dylan 70 years

Never has one single man's life meant so much to so many in my time.
In our little family we often argue which of his songs are best or most important. Even the four of us (Serina, Gunnar, Kel and I) do not agree.

We do, however, acknowledge that in the world of folk, pop, rock and contemporary Christian music there's only Bob Dylan, the eternal Jew, and then there are all the others.

I made these watercolors in a long forgotten youth, finding my way back home, while listening to Blood On The Tracks.

Syttende Mai, May 17th 2011

May 17th, or Syttende Mai, our Constitution Day, is very special to the Norwegians. It is celebrated in towns and small villages with equal enthusiasm. No military or police are present, just happy children and adults parading with flags and bunads. (In Haugesund, a town of 30 000 one single policeman in gala uniform was leading the parade. In my home town Sauda of 6000 there was none.)
Gunnar and I went to celebrate with my mother.
"Will you give Gunnar a hug?" I asked, pointing my cellphone at her. "Oh, no, Gunnar is such a nice guy, he shall have a real kiss," my mother promptly answered.

My mother, soon to celebrate her 86th birthday, is still struggling after her brain stroke. As you can see, she has no intention of giving up.

Gunnar's arm was a good support while we were waiting for the parade.
Snow on the mountain tops, gray sky and fog down the valley side.
The birches were green as they should be for our National Day.


The parade is coming up the steep "Hospital Hill". It's such a lovely sight in red, white and blue.

The asphalt was wet, but our prayer for dry weather was heard.

This little girl, with the nicest bunad I saw this day, seemed to be lost from the rest of her company.
Proud parents showing off their newest offspring.
My mother and me to the right in our bunads, watching the parade.
If you double click, you can see the fjord and the waterfall in the background.(Photo by Gunnar)


After watching the parade we took time to visit dear ones on the church yard (cemetery).
Nearest neighbor of my mother enjoying his festive meal.

We ate in the indoor dining room. Strawberries and cream for dessert.
My mother got this hand painted dessert bowls from my father as an engagement present.
My mother has embroidered the tablecloth, Venetian seam, and our bunads. She also has made Serina two bunads, one for children, one for grown ups.
My mother even has painted the vase for the may 17th flower bouquet.
Need I say we had a memorable day?

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