Sweden - Entry 3

Wednesday Night, April 29, 2009

Allie and I watched Amistad, and I enjoyed my Mariestad 6.5%. Then went to the AC for email and Skype. I spent time reviewing / revising my exhortation for Sunday evening and watched a bit of American TV with Swedish subtitles. A Seinfeld episode was funnier because the cast were so young – their voices were younger, too; they sounded like they’d inhaled helium.

To bed around 1AM.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

I was wakeful at 0500 hours. Noticed it was already light outside. The natives tell me that in the middle of summer, the sun rises at 0400 hours and sets at 2200 hours. I fell back to sleep until 0730.

Had muesli – naturally. Showered and went to AC for email. Alice left word that Sam Walton wanted his money and had called to remind me. I paid him via MyCheckFree.com. Wow – technology.

I rode on several errands with David Leander and Allie. We met Gary at 1100 for a meeting to plan the next two days’ events. The Kenneth Lindberg Memorial Baseball tournament. Five teams: Karl Skuga, Stockholm, Alby, Gothenburg, and Nykoping. Each team with 15 players and some number of parents and / or coaches. Four of the teams would be staying over, so their lodgings would be divided between the Gymnasium and the space used previously by the Kyrchan. There was one single key to the shower area, so Colin would be responsible to let people in when needed. There were two guest apartments that needed to be cleaned, including one for the Gerry Lindberg and her children. None of the teams were obliged to eat their meals at Stoeryd, but in case they wanted to, we would go to Lidl and Willy’s at some point to buy provisions. Dinner on Friday would be pasta and marinara sauce with meatballs. Breakfast the next morning would be cereal, toast, yogurt, milk, coffee, cheese. On Friday evening, the AC would become the cybercafé. Colin would oversee the use of computers for viewing MLB.com. Tables would need to be located, removed from storage and (along with chairs) placed at the AC and down at the Stoeryd field. Other games for older players (juniors and elite) would take place at Hätte (pronounced heh-tah) field, about a ten minute drive from Stoeryd. We would arrange to offer concessions at Stoeryd to include burgers, hotdogs, sodas, candy bars and water. Most items for a few kronas.

A lot to do, and not much time.

Afterward, Allie, Colin and I had lunch in the AC. Colin prepared a dish called Pitty-Pan with potatoes, cheese, eggs, and gyro chicken (like the Hassel-Pfeffel my mom used to make for my dad). Tasty.

As Colin made lunch, I tried to list out all the “hip-shot” directions and ideas that came up at the meeting. After we ate Allie went to clean two guest apartments, while Colin and I got tables and chairs out of storage. We brought them to the AC where they’d be picked up later. When we were moving the tables out of one storage area, I thumped my head on the top of the door frame. Doors in many places are lower than I am. Note to self: Swedish Doors = duck. We set up three of the tables at the AC, and cleaned all of them (and the chairs). Colin headed down to the field to cut the infield a final time. I worked some more on my exhortation.

Allie had a scheduled cheerleading class that was cancelled. Many businesses and schools had a light day, due to Walpuris Night. So, Allie and I went to Lidl and bought a ton of stuff. David Leander picked us up in the van and we distributed things to refrigerators, freezers and storage areas for the night. To be moved down to field or used in AC the next day. I made the purchase using David’s credit card. I still know the code. After the delivery of stores, I also began driving his van around Tranas. Same side of road as USA, so not a huge adjustment. Had no idea what most traffic signs meant. Just guessed right every time.

We’d planned to have dinner and do BBQ chicken at Jonatan’s, but the tournament plans required us to work later than we’d thought initially. So, we’d move the BBQ to the baseball field. Brought the A1, Worcestershire Sauce, and butter down to the field, with a medium size pan. Fired up the grill and blended the ingredients over the coals. Took a while for the butter to melt (should have melted it alone first – next time I’m in Sweden, I’ll do it right). The pan was almost brim full with sauce. The plan was for Allie, Caroline, Colin, Jonathan and me to have dinner there. In fact, half the Johnson clan, several Leanders, and the two Lithuanian ballplayers arrived as well. Had plenty of food (David brought hot dogs with him), but we didn’t have enough plates, forks, knives, etc. So, it was a truly finger food event. Primitive BBQ in the land of the Vikings. Colin, in keeping with the Walpuris Night tradition also lit a bonfire. This also served as the means to make a gob of trash from around the field “go away”.

The grill was downwind from the bonfire, so all of us reeked of smoke-smell when the night was over. Lidl sold chicken drumsticks and thighs, but the only breast meat was already marinated. The BBQ sauce on marinated meat was not purist, but we made do with what we had. No real complaints from the adults. Some of the kids were a bit impatient, but on the whole a good time. Plus, it was Allie’s exposure to the Three Equal Parts BBQ sauce that my dad used when my sisters and I were younger.

We got things mopped up, and David Leander brought adult beverages to share. Allie also brought a bag of Godi’s which we passed around. We sat at the bonfire for over an hour, telling jokes and laughing a lot. A good time.

As the fire burned down, Allie, Caroline and I loaded the bikes with the BBQ supplies and pushed them home. Colin dowsed the fire.

Back to the apartment for a little TV, then to bed.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Went to the field at about 0900. Used David Leander’s van to haul food and two more tables. These table were rectangular and getting them into the van took about 20 minutes. No table legs broken, so a success. At the field, we set up a tent, the grills and concession area.

Little leaguers, coaches and parents began arriving, and the games began. The new scoreboard got it’s baptism.

The grills were lit at 1100 hours per the plan. We grilled, bunned and foil-wrapped burgers and hotdogs. E-man, the Lithuanian ballplayer, was the plate ump. He wore a Detroit Tigers warm up over his pads. I told him I grew up in the area and was in Detroit when the Tigers won the World Series in game seven against the St. Louis Cardinals. He nodded politely at all of that, but caught only a little of it. Said his girlfriend was from around there.

It was an enjoyable morning watching baseball.

An aside: When the international players come to play ball in Sweden for the summer, they stay in men-only lodgings. No girlfriends, no wives, etc. Not a moral matter, just simpler and uncomplicated. The Lithuanians are not fond of the milk across the Baltic (in Sweden) and had wanted to bring their cow. Really. Request denied per Section 2, Paragraph 7 of the Trans-Baltic Bovine Baseball Regulations. Several families in Allie’s circle had been joking about getting a collective cow. When I heard the Lithuanian’s request, I understood where the ideas came from.

At around 12N, Colin was “called up from the minors,” and made the junior roster over at Hatte field. I drove him over in David Leander’s van. Passed a peleton of cyclists on the way, and suddenly missed my bike. Stayed focused however, and got Colin to the ballpark. As I pulled away, a short fast guy (turned out to be Gary) in a red shirt rushed at the van, pointed at me and barked in Mississippese: “I need you to umpire! Turn around and come back!” Not a problem. I turned around, parked the van, inquired as to the closest restroom (var ar too-ah-layt), was directed to the men's tree, got comfortable, and headed to the field as infield umpire. The plate umpire was an elite player from Canada, and he got me headed in the right directions. No one on base? Straddle the first base line to judge (fair or foul) any hits up the line. Man on first? Move behind and left of mound to make calls at second. Man on second? Move behind and right of mound to make calls at second and or third. Make calls on check swing appeals. Judge occasional outfield fly fumbles (time of possession, cause of dropped balls). Piece o' cake. Let’s go!

I spoke Spanish in Sweden to a Dominican first baseman. He told me he lived in Sweden. I asked if he spoke Spanska. He looked at me as if that was a distasteful thing to say. So, I threw him out of the game. JK.

Colin was 4-4 at bat with two hits and two walks. He had two stolen bases, and scored twice on RBIs. In left field, he made one catch for an out (he slipped after catching the ball, then dropped it, but had possession long enough for the out to stand. As I stood in the infield, umping, I took a picture of Mighty Colin at the Plate (and on base). His folks’ll be proud.

I met another junior coach named Todd, who’s home is Crofton, Maryland. His wife is Swedish, and he’s been in Sweden for 13 years. Helps Gary coach. Lives an hour or so away. Works in a modular construction factory (like Nanticoke) and was a construction manager in the states. Has thought about returning to America, but enjoys not having to work too hard in Sweden. Good work if you can get it.

After the game, I drove back to Stoeryd field and finished BBQing, selling food, etc. We mopped up, and stored perishables until the next morning. Went to the AC to begin making pasta dinner for 45 hungry homer hitters. As the saying goes in Sweden, "We threw a fika and no one came." Only served 10 players dinner. The rest went to town for pizza. Brilliant. Oh well. Allie has to prepare dinner for Sunday evening, so will turn it all into a casserole. De rigueur for church suppers.

We hung around the AC until about 10 or so. I booked my return train ticket from Norrkoping to Arlanda (will use one of the passes Allie uses weekly to get from Tranas to Norrkoping). Had conversation with Tony and Adam, both elite level ball players. Tony’s living in Sweden but is from San Jose, CA. Tony is from Toronto and had just arrived that day. We talked psychology and theology.

Cleaned up dinner, prepped for breakfast, staged supplies for the field. Just as I was thinking about a relaxing day at the grill, while watching young Bjorns pitch to young Svens, David Leander informed me that I would be umping the first two games on Saturday. Sole ump, calling balls / strikes from behind the mound, while making infield calls. That all you want me to do? Piece o' cake.

I recall Skyping home at some point and Alice reminded me that Saturday was the Running of the Roses at Churchill Downs. She’s making Hot Browns and Derby Pie. I want to go home. Oh, well. Perhaps a sliver will be left for me. Went to bed. 1130-ish.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Woke up at 0630. Went with Allie to AC to have things ready by 0800. Caroline and Colin helping. Also gathered all supplies that would need to go to Stoeryd field. David Leander to come by and transport in his van.

Meanwhile, all the players who did not come to dinner made up for it at breakfast. HUGE crowd. Ran out of yogurt and milk, so when David arrived, we also took Colin to Willy’s to get food. David took me to the field with the supplies. I set things up. He went and got Colin from the store and they resupplied Allie at the AC. As the first game time was drawing closer, David and Colin actually brought bowls, spoons, cereal, yogurt and coffee down to the field. Ah, yes. Breakfast behind the backstop in Sweden. Breakfast a serious meal here. Not to be missed or messed with. To borrow from the Lone Star State, “Don’t mess with breakfast.”

I got the concession area set up and met both coaches of first game. Told them I was going to be the ump. That I did not do this regularly. That they could let me know if they had any issues with my calls. Blah, blah, blah. That the games would run 6 innings or 1:45 – whichever came first. They all smiled and nodded Swedishly, and said very little. Play ball!

First game crept along. One team distinctly better. There is a rule that says a team can only bat through its line up once, after which they have to take the field. Additionally, the games were played for 6 innings or 1:45, whichever came first. Were it not for these rules, it would have been a veeerrry long first inning, and an even longer game. 6-0 bottom of first. After that, things settled down but the score still wound up lopsided. One team had no coach, and the (I’m guessing) oldest player called all the shots. The other team's Coach was Jens - a nice guy who helpfull spoke very good English.

Some of the pitchers arms were scarely strong enough to lob the ball in an arc to home plate. Calling balls / strikes in those cases was a challenge. Many of the batters were barely four and a half feet tall, so their strike zone presented a Himalayan challenge to the baseball lobbers. I’d been coached to not let too many walks take place, and to keep the game moving along. So lobbers, four and a half foot tall batters, and my license to not call things with overmuch precision now and then left me a far from favorite umpire.

The second game went faster, due to noticeably better talent. Still, having stood for three and a half hours with my lily white city neck to the sun, I was quite sunburned. Later learned it’s what Swedes call an “umpire’s tan.”

I met Gerry Lindberg, after whose husband, Kenneth, the tournament had been named. She was very nice. A saint whose life has been very difficult in the wake of Kenneth’s death of an infection contracted in hospital, where he was being treated for cancer. Clearly, she has been sustained remarkably by the Lord, and is unwavering in there testimony to that fact. She has two daughters and a son, all of whom appeared to carry themselves very impressively. I noticed how well they related to all age groups as they were around the ball fields. Gerry had been a scholarship softball player at Penn State, and later coached and umpired in Europe on an international competition level. She umpired the last game of the afternoon, which was the all stars game. Her son pitched one inning, and it was funny watching her call her son’s balls / strikes and tease him as he pitched.

Saturday had been a very long day, all in all. After the games were over, we rounded up all the supplies and staged most of them to be put back on Monday. I told Colin I’d be thinking of him finishing the clean up as I was bound for Frankfurt. We took food and particularly valuable things up to the AC.

Allie and I were very tired, and had dinner from StatOil. I had the Swedish version of Salisbury Steak (Stockholm Biff?) – a TV dinner, and Allie had a sandwich. We watched TV, ate and chatted. Later did a bit of email (had to know who won the Derby) and went to bed.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Allie and I got up about the same time. Had coffee. Had a nice wandering chat about light things at the sunny-spot window.

After getting dressed, we walked to church. It was cool and pleasant.

Allie, Colin, and several Johnson kids practiced their pieces. Sounded nice together. Colin plays classical guitar and would be doing the prelude.

The Metodist pastor, Freidrick (sp?), preached (in Swedish), and communion was served in the morning service (also in Swedish). As with last Sunday, I phonetically fumbled my way along, and appreciated the spots where English enlightenment was offered. The Stoeryd group takes communion weekly during their evening service on Sundays when the Metodist church does not do so.

I met Britta, Freidrich’s wife, who was very appreciative of Allie and complimented her ability to both understand and speak Swedish. Also met Trigvy and his wife Marianne who were also very happy to have Allie there.

We learned that Sune’s and Karin’s son, Andreas, was in the hospital and would have his gall bladder removed on Monday. He had a flare up while away for the weekend in Malmo with his wife.

We had lunch at the apartment with Colin. Allie made a tasty gyro chicken dish, and tomato and red pepper salad with a soy-sauce. I subjected Allie and Colin a read through of my exhortation, who offered several helpful suggestions.

Caroline arrived and she and Allie prepared a casserole for dinner after church. Freda Leander would pick up the food and drive it over.

Allie and I walked to church a bit before 1700 hours.

The service was mostly phonetic Swedish for me, with a few English interludes. I presented an exhortation entitled Hopefulness Based on the Most Solid of Comforts. My text was 2 Corinthians 4:8-18, and I also cited questions 1 and 2 of the Heidelberg Catechism. I had 30 minutes and used them all. Felt flat. A bit rushed, though I purposely did not look at my watch, having run through it with Allie and Colin. I incorporated the larger portion of a letter written by Charlene Park, a woman in my home congregation who has been through chemo and radiation treatments for an aggressive cancer - while pregnant. Her thoughts during and following these treatments, and the healthy birth of her son, are a powerful testimony to God's powerfully working in and through trials, to comfort His saints. Hard to get a real sense as most were not native English speakers. Still several folks indicated it had been helpful. I’d received helpful suggestions from David Bergmark to help de-Americanize certain phrasing, expressions and examples.

As a hymn of response, we sang Horatio Spafford’s It is Well With My Soul. Not a Swedish hymn, so not familiar to most. There were enough English speakers with good pipes to carry things, with melody and harmonies. Allie played accompaniment. The hymn was beautiful. Afterward, Karin Jaderberg came to me and asked about the hymn, expressing deep appreciation for both lyrics and tune. I told her of Horation Spafford's loss of wife and children whose ship had sunk at sea. She said, “These lyrics (she was holding the song sheet) are going into my Bible right away! (On Saturday, Allie and I spent the afternoon with Sune and Karin and learned that one of their three sons took his own life during the past Christmas season.)

We had dinner at the Bergmarks and good discussion afterward. I ran to Hemkop (Home Buy) for a few items that I was urged to bring the family (coffees, chocolates, Lingonberry jam, and Godis [candies by the kg.]). I got there 10 minutes before closing and rushed up one aisle and down another looking for things whose labels I couldn’t (at least quickly) figure out. Managed, though.

Allie, Colin, Caroline and I got a ride back to the apartment.

I spent part of the evening visiting with Gary and Linda Johnson. A very good time. Gary poured a couple of rounds of Gammel Dansk Bitter Dram. That, as my mom would say, is “good fer what ails ya.” Time tested elixir aboard Swedish maritime vessels. Nothing nice about it. Kind of like Fisherman’s Friend in a bottle. But, it sure warmed me up. The ingredients include spices from many different places around the world, roots that are reputed to have medicinal powers, and berries that are well-known particularly to children from the Roskilde area on the Danish island of Zealand. Every autumn, the distiller buys all the buckets of rowan-berries the children can pick. The distiller does not disclose the names of every ingredient or the exact blend of ingredients. Hmmm.

Grateful to hear of the Johnsons’ appreciation for Allie and her helpfulness in very many ways during the past six months.

Went back to pack for very early wake up and a 0547 train to airport. Gary was kind enough to let me take his van back to the apartment, and then use it to get to the train station in the morning.


Monday, May 4, 2009

Woke at 0410. Showered. Shaved. Woke Allie. Finished packing. Allie added a few of her things to come back ahead of her return to the states.

It was raining! And, cool. 10 days of perfect weather and only raining the day I leave.

We loaded the luggage and drove to the church. Parked across from Bergmark’s and walked a block to the platform. Train was on time. As pretty as things were with clear warm weather, the rain and overcast conditions cast a different beautiful light on things. Allie and I chatted a bit, but we mostly just sat and dozed some. Passed through Boxholm, Mjolby, Mantorp, Vikingstad, Linkoping, and Nykoping, arriving in Norrkoping at about 0655.

Allie and I found coffee and croissants and ate them standing in the terminal. I was a bit axious, as I did not see on the display that my train terminated at Arlanda. Figured I’d figure it out once on board - I was headed the right direction anyway. All too soon, I had to go to the platform. We hugged, and cried a bit. Hard for me to go, realizing now just how far away she really is from home. She jumped on the next train back to Tranas, and I boarded for Arlanda.

The train was a sleak double decker. Very modern. I’d not arranged for access to email ahead of time, so I attempted to do so on the train. Couldn’t seem to provide the UI with the proper telephone country code + AC + phone number to get the order to go through. No problem. Just used time to journal. Found the coffee dispenser and used 10 kr to get a kaffe. Made several stops on the way to Stockholm, and then on to Arlanda.

The Arlanda train station was pretty cool. Clean, well lit. Big flat circular lights hung from ceiling. I found the elevator from track level to the terminal. This time the elevator worked. Stepping off the elevator, a nice lady asked for my train ticket. I displayed it and she let me enter the terminal. Arlanda is a cool looking airport. I wandered around and bought a package of moose sausage. Slipped them into my suitcase.

Next moved in the direction of flight check-ins. It took a while, and I had to ask around, but I found the ticket counter (they’re not clearly brand labeled as is the case in most US airports. Lufthansa’s activity at Arlanda is done through SAS. I got my ticket and boarding pass. My soft suitcase was too long to make the conveyor turn at the ticket counter, so I had to take it a few yards down to the special luggage handling gate. I placed it on the conveyor. They guy scanned it and asked for my passport and boarding pass. Looked at his screen. Looked at me. Looked at his screen. Looked at me. (Probably wanted my moose sausage.) He then handed me back my passport and boarding pass, and sent me on my way.

I had more two hours before boarding for Frankfurt, so I found an internet kiosk. Tried to Skype-call Allie. I could hear her, but she could not hear me (maybe that cost extra). Rats. Sent her a note and responded to several other email’s I’d received. I’d heard the night before the Jack Kemp had passed, and Alice sent me a note about it as well, so I sent Jeff a note of sympathy and condolence. Picked up a few more trinkets, quickly consumed a shrimp salad and a hard cider, then boarded.

Flight to Frankfurt was smooth. Napped a bit despite being in the middle seat. Sorry for the two ladies who had to contend with my girth. Had another tasty cheese sandwich on pretzel bread, as well as a nice red wine (X2). All compliments of Lufthansa. As with both flights to Stockholm, those Lufthansians were right hospitable volk.

At Frankfurt, I found my gate for Untied 933 to Dulles. I had an hour and change before boarding at Frankfurt, so poked around. Bought gum, a book and airline size Jagermeisters to “spruce up” my Diet Cokes en route to Dulles.

Boarded. Flight was a 777. I wandered up the aisle looking for seat 40A (window). Found it. As my aisle partner had not arrived, I sat in that seat and tried to decide if I’d go aisle or window. No – maybe both. Just stretch out and veg for 7 hours. Just then, a bearded, bespectacled academic across the aisle asked me if the window seat was taken. I told him I had 40A, but was deciding if I might like the aisle seat or not. He began to talk, and talk, and talk, and talk . . . and before you knew it, I was drinking from his autobiographical fire hose: He’d been speaking at some European conference . . . was very well traveled and knowledgeable about trans-Atlantic routes . . . had flown from Chicago O’Hare to Bejing via the great circle route . . . our flight time would depend upon the weather and we would probably be flying into a head wind . . . blah, blah, blah . . . . Oh brother. I slowly reached for my MP3 player, slipped the in my ear buds, and Dan Tyminski transported me to nirvana a la “I Am A Man of Constant Sorrow.” I raised the arm rest between the seats and slid over to the window. No way was that guy gonna get that seat. As he continued to yammer, a woman came down the aisle, stood at 40B, placed her carry-on in the storage compartment, checked her boarding pass and sat down. Phew!

During the flight, I Watched Frost-Nixon, and Gran Torino. Napped a bit. Four hours in, I got up for 30 minute stretch break. Filled out U.S. Customs Declaration. Tried to nap some, but couldn’t really get comfortable, so just toughed out the rest of the flight.

Landed at 1805 hours. About 30 minutes late. Landing was smooth. Got through customs fairly quickly, but waited a while for my luggage. My declaration form was flagged due my having declared moose-sausage. Had to go through special inspection area and wound up forfeiting my moose-sausage. Due to the swine flu. Oh, I see. Pigs and Moose. No use. No moose. Rats.

Wandered out to the waiting area and was warmly greeted by Alice, Gracie, Calvin and Gifford. Nice to see, hug and kiss ‘em. The ride home was uneventful. A great surprise to see Emily and Ginny had come over to welcome me home. We cracked open the luggage and distributed the souvenirs. Ate candy. I enjoyed the newly painted laundry room and kitchen. I was . . . let's say "surprised" at Gifford's tree platform (the metal trashcan hanging from the tree tipped me off). We de-briefed about the trip. A good reunion from my perspective.

Wonderful to have seen Allie in her Swedish element. Intriguing country. Good to be back in the States.