The Homeland calls for Gunnar, And So Does Love.Based on a post by Jorunn, in 4 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. ‘You are the Tin Man. This tour; is the Oil Can. Figure it out.’ A recently widowed Norwegian American plans his escape from a Minnesota nursing home to travel abroad and join a ‘Christmas in Norway Tour’. While battling his fears, he meets a beautiful young tour guide and her divorced mother, who years later, still bears scars from her unfaithful husband’s affair. This story is about overcoming those fears to let healing begin. This story picks up after that, and shows the lingering effects of a husband’s extra-marital affair on his family. This is also a Christmas story, so expect to travel to locations in Norway, encounter Norwegian Christmas traditions, and maybe even get sprinkled with pixie-dust! “A man has only one escape from his old self: to see a different self - in the mirror of some woman’s eyes” - Clare Booth Luce Prequel: The Ruined ChristmasOslo, Norway - Three Years Ago My name is Jorunn. As a Norwegian landsby girl, Mamma and I spent Christmas week in Bergen, visiting her family and celebrating my 22nd birthday. We decided to leave Bergen two days early so that Pappa would not have to celebrate New Year’s Eve alone. During the week, while we were away, Pappa told us how he missed us. We arrived back home in mid-afternoon, just as the sun was setting, and saw our Christmas Star lit up in the window. After entering the house, we heard Pappa moaning upstairs and went up to see if he was all right. Opening the bedroom door, we saw him humping a strange woman! “What are you doing?” shouted Mamma. Pappa replied, “Leah, you’re home early.” “Who is this woman?” “She’s just a slut. She means nothing to me.” The woman yelped, “I am not a slut! I am a happily married woman.” Mamma yelled, “I can see what keeps you happy.” Pappa yelled back, “I still love you, Leah. Let me get rid of this slut. She’s only here because I was lonely. We can talk.” Mamma replied, “You can talk to my advokater. We’re through! How can I ever trust you again, you bastard? Do you realize what you have done to our family!” Mamma began sobbing and ran down the stairs. Pappa looked at me and said, “Jorunn, none of this would have happened if your mother hadn’t come home early and seen us.” I looked at Pappa and saw his slime-covered beard slick with the woman’s juices. “You’re wrong Pappa. It did happen. Mamma and I just wouldn’t have known. You said you didn’t want to be seen by us. That works both ways! I don’t ever want to talk to you or see you ever again!” I ran downstairs to Mamma, and with our suitcases still in the boot, we drove to a friend’s house. Gunnar and Nurse RatchedDecember 13 - Morning Minneapolis, Minnesota - Present Day I pressed the button on my cell phone and hung up after talking with Roger Mans, my long-time friend and attorney. My two adult children texted a few days ago they wanted to visit me here in the nursing home. I had not seen them since the funeral of my wife, Solveig, and that was two months ago. Their plan was for me to sign their power of attorney forms, giving them full control over me and my affairs. But my plan was different, and now was time to put it into place. Two years ago, at just 54 years old, I had a stroke. A devastating paralysis left me needing a lot of care, and therapy to regain my mobility, speech, and other functions. I realized Solveig was unable to care for me at our home. She tried with all her heart, but she was also fighting her own battle with cancer, and undergoing her own rigorous treatments. So I decided to enter a nursing home, while I continued to get rehab. I wanted a facility with a stroke recovery unit. This limited my nursing home choices. The only thing making life bearable here, was Solveig faithfully visiting me, and sneaking an occasional home-cooked meal past the head nurse and her staff. Sadly, Solveig succumbed to the cancer while I was still a resident at the ‘Bethel Retirement Center’. At Solveig’s funeral, my children promised to visit often, but as usual, I could never count on them for anything. Without my wife here to check on things, my decent clothes never came back from the laundry, and instead, the staff returned excuses. I put on old sweatpants and an old sweatshirt. It would do for now. I prepared myself for this day by walking the halls of the nursing home, attending physical therapy sessions, and taking care of myself without help from the staff. Still not fully recovered, but like my clothing, it would do for now. I said goodbye to Alfred, my shared roommate. He nodded, wished me luck, and said he would love to go with me. I felt sorry for him. He was a great storyteller but needed to use his walker, and physically, he required the kind of care they provided here. I walked down the hall to the nurse’s station and found Molly Turner, the rather brusque chief nurse, and her two assistants sitting behind it. “Good morning, Nurse Ratched,” I said. “Good day to you, Gunnar,” she replied. “I’m checking out,” I said. “Be serious, Gunnar. No one ever checks out of a nursing home, unless they are flat on their back with a toe tag.” I looked at her and smiled, “I only hope that will be your Fate, Molly.” “That’s not a nice thing to say, Gunnar. Now, return to your room or I will have dietary take away your rice pudding for a week.” The rice pudding here was a pale imitation of the riskrem, which Solvieg would make every Christmas. I would miss it this year. I gave Nurse Ratched a one-fingered salute, then walked toward the exit. There was a scramble of squeaky chairs and shouts behind me, and I heard their footsteps closing in on me. As I pushed the two doors open to the main lobby, there was Roger, standing next to the nursing home administrator. I walked up to my lawyer, and shook his hand, “Thank you, old friend.” I turned to see a stunned Nurse Ratched. “Allow me to escort Mr. Larsen back to his room,” she meekly pronounced. The nursing home administrator said, “That won’t be necessary, Molly. Mr. Larsen is leaving us. He isn’t taking anything with him. You may clear out his room and get it ready for the next resident.” I looked Nurse Ratched in the eye and saw the fires of hell blazing within. Then, it was my turn to smile back. All my therapists had agreed that my rehab was successful. My speech skills were quite restored. My left arm and leg took longer to restore. But it was good enough to ditch the wheelchair, then the walker, then the cane. What really set me back was the grief of losing my wife, and the guilt of not being there when she needed me most. Gunnar’s HouseRoger drove me to my house. I hadn’t been there in two years. It looked pathetic. No one bothered shoveling the snow on the walkway, and I feared what my children may have done to the inside. I found the hidden key I placed under a rock years ago and used it to enter through the front door. The living room and dining room furniture were mostly gone, or should I say, stolen. They had rifled through the small office nook next to the kitchen, with papers scattered over the kitchen countertops and floor. I turned and said, “You’re going to have your work cut out for you, Roger.” “This is exactly what you said would happen, Gunnar. Our firm will take care of it for you.” I opened a small drawer in the office nook and thankfully found my passport intact. It was useless to my children. I went to the master bedroom and saw the dresser drawers partially opened, with clothes scattered all about the floor. On top of the dresser was Solvieg’s jewelry box. I opened it, and few things remained. I was glad to see the gold charm bracelet I gave her 35 years ago for Christmas. She wore it a couple of times, then stopped, complaining it turned her wrist green as the fake gold coating wore away. But she kept it all these years. A worn-out trinket to my children, as precious as the Sauron’s Ring of Power to me. I picked it up and put it in the pocket of my sweatpants. I went into the walk-in closet and picked out some clothes, tossed them into an old gym bag, and said, “I’m done. We can go.” Roger said, “The locksmith and security company will meet me here this afternoon. Once they are done, your children will no longer have access.” “I’d rather not have an auction of whatever is left in the house. I don’t think Solveig would have liked that. Once you go through the papers, just throw everything left in a dumpster and haul it away. Whatever the two pirates plundered will be the only inheritance they will ever see from me.” Miller And Mans Law OfficeRoger and I next went to his office. I said hello to Jane, the long-time receptionist. I have always suspected that Jane knows everything that goes on here, and secretly runs the whole place, not unlike the way Nurse Ratched does in her domain. However, Jane does so with more efficiency, happiness, and joy for both clients and staff. Jane asked, “Can I get you anything, Gunnar?” “I’d love a cup of decent coffee, and an Apple Fritter if you have one.” “I’ll bring them to Roger’s office. Two creams and no sugar, if I remember right.” “Perfect, as always, Jane.” We went into Roger’s plush office, and I sat down in a chair more comfortable than any I sat in for the last two years. “Are you actually going to go through with this?” Roger asked. “Every bit of it,” I replied. I signed multiple papers, removing my two children as beneficiaries from my life insurance and investment accounts. I also gave Roger limited power of attorney to sell my house and dispose of its possessions. Jane arrived with the coffee and Apple Fritter. “Norway? Why would anyone want to go to Norway in December?” “Did Roger spill the beans?” I
