Beauty abounds in faraway Norway. You can also find this shot spinning on the homepage carousel!

When I stumbled on a pile of precious photo prints yesterday, my son kindly ran some scans with his new scanner toy, procured at a garage sale. The truth is I have thousands of photos in boxes, wondering if they’ll ever see the light of screen.

This shot was from just another bucolic landscape in rural Norway. I texted my new scan to a California friend who shares my Norwegian heritage and adoration. He replied back, “Do you ever wonder if all those old Norwegians should have stayed over there?”

Oh yes, I do. But when they came to America, they were leaving a land of poverty, hunger, and overly large families (because they expected child deaths and needed helpers) living in cold, tiny cottages.

It’s no longer like that, not at all. In fact, Norway is one of the richest countries in the world—with governmental assets (from oil) in the low trillion$. They can support a sky-high standard of living for all on a modest draw alone—yet they also work hard and are keenly innovative.

Savviest of all: Unlike most countries, the oil money goes to THE PEOPLE. Not the Koch brothers, not BP, not some crown prince.

The wealth (and taxes and things) does make Norway a jarringly expensive country to visit. As the Danes joke when taking a BreakAway to Norway, “Don’t forget your cucumber.” Indeed, the many outdoorsy Euro-tourists who flock to Norway in the summer pack their camper with ample provisions—much to the dismay of tourism businesses.

The oil will run out someday, sooner than later. Yet their financial plan looks sound enough to keep them comfortable into perpetuity. I loved my visit there—which included time with long, lost relatives. Now that travel is resuming, I can put kjaerlig Norge atop my bucket list again.

Can I make it happen? Can I justify the expense? Will you welcome me again, beautiful homeland? One never knows for sure. So for now, I shall daydream with old photos and…

Keep the faith.

For cold, cooped-up Northerners, nothing soothes like sun, sand, & surf…

I recently joined my daughter, a gaggle of her friends, and their families for a jaunt to Mexico’s Mayan Riviera beaches—a spring break tradition of sorts around here for grads-to-be who can swing it.

The timing and added COVID logistics and risks struck me, a reasonably seasoned traveler, as a bad decision. But I was outvoted (there was no vote). So I looked back on my life—travel and otherwise—and noted a pattern of possibly bad decisions. Yet I turned out alright. Right?

So why stop now? Why stay home? What’s the worst that can happen? (Don’t ask). I went, of course, and soaked up the miracle cures carried by tropical breezes and left longing for more.

More warmth, more travel, more care-free living, more time with actual people. MORE on all that and our little getaway soon…

Keep the faith.

• Pop-up ice art, as sculpted by Mother Winter

Every morning, a storm window greets me with these amazing artworks of frost. The patterns look uncannily similar day to day—so long as the temp and conditions are about the same.

Then, as the day warms up and (if we should be so lucky) the sun shines into the window, the whole thing melts away, dripping down like rain. Later, as the sun fades and the temps drop, the design slowly re-appears. By the next morning, the whole window has become a fairy painting again.

MN had a 2-week nasty cold snap that is finally fading. Meanwhile, much of the country is suffering through dangerous cold, no power, and undrinkable water. Nature can be cruel. But even then, nature will also find ways to create beauty.

• My son captured this shot in a snap with a vintage film camera. 

One month ago, BreakAway featured a film photo by my daughter—and pondered the recent popularity of film for ‘kids’ who have grown up in a digital world.

I find it a bit perplexing, though also refreshing and creative. My son nabbed this timeless image on the shores of Lake Michigan. One shot! That’s all you got! No BURST mode was available. And the surfer was oblivious, so: No prep time, no posing, no retakes.

It’s a great picture, and serves to remind us that being spoiled by limitless shooting, decent cell phone photography, and instant editing/posting guarantees nothing. In fact, maybe it makes us shoot too much and see too little.

This photo is worth 1,000 “files.”

Hmmm… Maybe it’s time for me to dig out my old 35mm camera again?

• It’ll be a while, please take a chair…

My Grandma gets credit for “Hurry up and wait!” Seems she would say it, always cheerfully, whenever we had to hurry—or wait—for anything. That’s how the C-19 saga seems to be playing out of late; most folks are in a rush to get the vaccine, yet most everyone must wait.

As I continue my life as a cancer survivor, seems like the appointments never get a BreakAway. The care team is always in a hurry to see me again. The good news is now they can usually hurry me through the routines (though they still take hours).

And now I enjoy, not dread, the time with my terrific doctors.

But these chairs!?! This is what has become of one “waiting” room. Only a few souls sit in the remaining upright chairs, and we are far, far away from each other. Someday, normal will return and these rooms will again be packed with impatient patients, waiting, hurrying, hoping.

Keep the faith.