Stories!
I have always loved stories. The format haven’t necessarily been too important, but there have been times where some formats was more preferred than others. Preferences like that changes from time to time.
When I was a kid I loved having stories read to me. I can fondly remember sitting by the kitchen table during weekends and listening to mom reading fairytales from the collection of the big red, leather bound books we had. They were of a collection first published in the 1800s, and had all the classic fairytales from Norway and the borders of Sweden. There were stories about trolls, goblins, Huldra, the devil, the poor Hero that was thrown out of how to find his own luck and ended up with the princess and half the kingdom. These traditional Norwegian fairytales (they have been published and said to be Norwegian, but there are elements from all over Europe in them. You can even find the same fairytales in Denmark, Iceland, Germany etc.) also got made into movies but the puppeteer and animator Ivo Caprino in the 60s and 70s. I enjoyed watching these movies as well, but my thirst for stories didn’t get quenched with that. The fairytales was also published as cartoon magazines and books. I do believe we had them all. And they got frequently read. Like, to the point where they loosened from the covers.
It wasn’t only fairytales I loved. I also loved the old norse Viking sagas. And as usual my mom would patiently sit with me at the kitchen table and tell stories about war and fighting, heathen gods and the violent and bloody christening of Norway. There was trolls and goblins in these stories as well, and I suppose it isn’t too far from the old fairytales to the old viking sagas written down hundreds of years after their occurrence. But it was still exciting. I would run around outside with a stick as a spear and shout out famous quotes from the sagas as I imagined being in the front of one of the famous battles.
I think this also gave me the interest for history that I had. It all became stories to me. I could read about local battles during ww2, and then go to my neighbour who had actually participated in the battle. He would more than happily share everything he remembered from it. I’m not entirely sure a 7-8 year old boy should have been sitting listening to how they dragged corpses after the battle into train wagons, and had to ride in the same wagon to Trondheim. Or how it felt watching your comrades die next to you. But I listened eagerly and even wrote a couple of scholastic’s report on the subject in third grade.
As I grew older my interests for stories grew stronger and stronger. The stories kind of changed, and when I was 12, I discovered Lord of the Rings. This is perhaps the single story (and book) I have read the most times. I have no idea how many times I have read the books, watched the movies or listened to the audio books. for a period it was multiple times a year. Especially during covid the audio books got a frequent rotation.
It is nice looking back to these moments I have had with my mom, dad, siblings, grandparents and neighbours. To be given the privilege to have someone reading stories to me is perhaps the most precious thing I have ever been given. My dad wasn’t the one reading as much to me, but he would come up with and compose new fairytales for me. Especially about this old, strange man – Per Geila – who lived with a fox, a bear and a black and white cat that lived in the hills and forests a short way from home. He would make songs about them for me and we would go up in the hills and sing these songs to them as we looked for their homes and lairs. It was magic, and I will have these memories with me until the day I pass from this world.
Thanks for all the fantastic stories.
