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ullehaddock

Writer of sorts with a soft spot for Photo. Writes about life and what comes into my mind.
Meet my family

Meet my family

It is only the closest family, she said. My grandparents and my parents. It will only take a few minutes. Then we can go on our dinner date. It is my grandfathers birthday.

She held his hand and looked up at him with her blue eyes. He drowned in them again, like the first time they met. He could not argue against those blue eyes. Her dimples made her lovely face even lovelier as she smiled up at him.

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Even though he felt it to be too soon to meet her parents on the third date he went along with butterflies in his stomach. Holding her soft hand as they walked across the village. He felt like walking on clouds. A connection he never felt before.

Her grandparents lived in a retirement home at the center of the village. The butterflies in his stomach turned into full grown seagulls as they walked along the corridor to her grandparents room. Was it a bit noisy behind the door?

They knocked and the door slammed open. He immediately wanted to turn on his heels and run. The small room was filled, no crowded, with people. Was it even possible to find room for them there? With a nervous smile he entered the room with a firm grip in her hand. An image of sardines, popped up in his head for some reason!

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She pulled him across the room, eyes starring, to the side of the bed where her grandfather lay. He was suffering from a lung disease and could hardly get out of bed anymore. Even if he was very sick his eyes was full of life and humor. The grandfather took his hand and held it tight. He said with an wink of the eye and a smile that he would have his hands full with the granddaughter.

Now introductions to the rest of the family started. Three uncles and two aunts with spouses. Then there was all the cousins! Even if he felt heartily welcomed he still have not learned all the cousins names after twenty years of marriage.

Hope you like this Saturday story. You know what to do then. click here for more.

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Calm

Calm

Today I took a walk before dark. With the thick clouds there was not much light but I grabbed the camera anyway. I’m glad I did. Hope you like it too.

A Calm november evening. Clouds real thick. Reflections in the water. So many colors and shades. Grey, blue, red, green. Light struggles to get through the clouds.

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Mr and Mrs Svan kept their distance. Got to borrow that lens from my father in-law.

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Stonewall

Stonewall

He took of his cap and dried the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The linnen cap was already soaking from sweat. He gazed towards the sun. Sun burning his eyes.

He called out to his son to bring him some water. His son hurried to bring him the water bottle that he handed over with his head bowed. With a trembling voice he told his father that the water was almost out. His father bent down. Held him hard around the neck and with his dark growling voice asked him; “Well why don’t run to the well and get some more”!

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He took the bottle and writhed out of his fathers grip. He could feel the slap in the air behind him. With a long harang of swearword the father resumed his struggle with a large stone in the dry soil. As he placed it with the others in the stonewall he looked at it. This would help keeping the neighbors sheep in their place. But the poor soil in the field he was clearing would not feed many mouths.

Was it this stonewall? Today hidden in the forest.

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To my brother

To my brother

By Ulf Kalkyl

I knew I wanted to make a speech at my brothers funeral. Much for my own sake, but also for my brother. It has been an impossible task to find the right words. I want to tell you everything, without having to say anything. It is hard to find a way forward in my own sorrow and loss. I want to say farewell without saying, god bye.

The strangest things catch your attention when you mourn. I got stuck in the grammar of sorrow. When someone passes away many tenses can no longer be used. Most obvious is tense for now, present tense. My brother will never again play his grand piano, code on his computer or drive his boat. We are left with past tense, preteritum. My brother was a fantastic musician, he could dance, he welded this and that.

When a young person passes away, tense of the forthcoming is used more, future tense. More accurately we use futurum preterit and futurum preterit exaktum. These two describes a possible future that never came to be. My brother would be an engineer, he would be a cantor, he would live many more years.

But I refuse to give in to the grammar of sorrow. You can speak of my brother in present tense. He is and remains my brother. Nothing in the whole world can break that bond. My brother is important and irreplaceable to me. I have only one brother, the finest brother a sibling can have. I am infinitely proud to call you my brother.

I’m proud over how he manged to graduate High School, get his drivers licence and get accepted in his dreams University, Chalmers. I’m proud over how he excelled in everything he did. From coding a compiler to replacing a catalyst converter. I’m proud in how he managed to excel me in most things.

My brother was never much for the meaningless. Grammar definitely falls into that category. But there is no point in drowning in “What if’s”. When I look ahead it is with all my brother is, and was that I carry with me. I carry with me what a fantastic, multifaceted, Renaissance man my brother was. I carry with me all his music, his puns and moments we spent together as brothers. I carry all the memories.

My brother, you are for ever my baby brother and I am forever you big brother. I love you, I miss you.

Ulf Kalkyl is a pseudonym of my oldest son. He held this speech at my youngest sons funeral. Ulf Kalkyl studies at University of Göteborg to become a High School teacher in Swedish and History.

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Mulle Meck

Mulle Meck

The continued story of a black car with a soul.

One of my first blog posts was about a car me and my son bought for him to learn mechanics. Read it here. Now I had to sell it as my son is no longer with us. It was with mixed feelings. But I’m convinced that the VW Golf has a soul, or a ghost. So Mulle Meck provided me with some more stories.

Bilprovning

In Sweden all vehicles needs a safety check up every year by a government controlled station, “Bilprovningen”. I was convinced there would be some things to fix before it was OK for another year. I sat down in the car that we named “Mulle Meck” and turned the key. Nothing! Not a click or cough, nothing. The skilled mechanic, me, popped the hood and looked down in the engine room. Trying to look knowledgeable. Waste, it was only me there. Maybe the car would be scared and start!

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So without doing something else I tried to start again. Yes, you guess was correct, nothing. The German engineers back in 2000 had in their mind that a petrol car need electric power to start. Hidden like a treasure under a plastic cover I found the battery. Do you know how high you jump touching even a flat car battery? About a meter is my estimate, landing firmly on your posterior.

Engine kittens

My father-law had a battery charger and with some instructions from him I managed to charge the battery. Trying to avoid setting a new battery jump record I disconnected the cables. As I turned the key there was lights on the dashboard and after some very nice words, in german, to the car I turned to start. Ignition, Mulle Meck was spinning like a kitten! I could almost go on YouTube! Mjau!

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As I expected Mulle Meck did not pass the safety check. The threshold boxes was infested with corrosion, Covid-19 for cars. Parking brake was too weak and there was an oil leakage. My wallet screamed in fear, seeing all those kronor fly away to a greedy garage owner. It was time for me and Mulle to part by selling it of. I was crying tears and Mulle Meck dripped oil on the parking.

Lockdown

In Göteborg, a two hour drive away there is a company buying old cars after a checking it first. So I arranged a time last Friday. So the day before I started up the car. It started only after multiple attempts. To charge the battery I let it run while I put in the spare wheels in the back to go with sale. As I shut the booth I heard how the doors locking with a loud click!

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Car running and the only key was in the car! I tested all four doors without any luck. Last change was the booth. With trembling hands I reached for the handle and pulled. I think I heard Mulle Meck laughing when it had left it unlocked. Luckily I am very agile still even if I passed fifty years. Hoping nobody could see me I wiggled my way in and managed to open the back door. From there the front door was easily opened. Saved!

Last laugh on me

On the way to the dealer Mulle Meck was running like a Formula One car. Don’t worry, I did not drive that fast. A mechanic from Barcelona started to check the car by taking a short test drive. Came back and placed it in the garage with the engine running. Open the hood and got out of the car to check for vibrations in the engine room. He closed the door and the creepy sound of looking doors was heard! Mind you this Halloween season! The mechanic looked at me and asked if there was another key!

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You can now hear the music from Alfred Hitchcocks horror movies. You know when they abuse the violins. By now I was convinced that there would be no sale while crawling in from the booth. I’m not kidding, the car was laughing! There was a sale but as you can imagine I didn’t get much paid. Enough for a treat at Göteborgs best sausage place. Gourmet Korv in Nordstan shopping mall.

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Stroke part II

Stroke part II

This is the second part of the story of a stroke. The first part you can find here. I considered to call this part Strike but that could give misleading associations?!

More corridors with bright artificial light. The hospital architects should be forced to ride in a bed along the corridors. They might come up with a better idea for lighting that does not poke patients eyes. Some decorations in the ceilings perhaps? He was laying there with the early signs of boredom and anxiety of what was happening in his brain. Also this time he lost count of the lights as the orderly wide-charged the corners.

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Noise

Arriving in the ward he had to tell the story again to yet another nurse. The emphatic nurse heard his loud complaining stomach and offered something to eat. After the stomach has settled down he was taken in to a room. Now is past midnight but the room was not silent. Had he arrived in the engine room? Maybe a sawmill? No it was his new roommates snoring! Call the Work Safety Officer, earplugs needed! He was tired so he managed to doze off. Only to be woken up by the night shift nurses coming to draw some blood and measure the blood pressure. This goes on every two hours until the morning. They let people know it is not a hotel.

At six o’clock new nurses comes in and start drawing blood. He asked the nurse if the blood bank at the hospital was running low? The nurse only answered by showing her fangs (was there blood?). Almost like hearing a silent alarm the nurses was simultaneously ready with him and his roommates and went out the door with a wooshing sound. As the door closed it fell down from the ceiling. Boredom! He lay there with his arm folds looking like a teenagers face from all the needles. It is Amazing how much sound the human body from four older men can produce without anybody saying anything. Again he was thinking about having some art in the ceilings. There should be a hash tagg #hospitalceilingart!

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The Doom of Boring

The door opens. Strange that the doors closes with a silent woosh but opens with a bang! A nurse comes in and attaches him to a portable heart monitor. Gluing on the sensors at his chest. Later when they came of he wished he had gone over his chest with the razor. At least the nurse tells him he can wander around in the corridors of the ward. He soon realized that the monitor was there to make sure he did not leave the ward. Too far away from the ward the monitor set of an alarm. Now it came at him from three angles, the ceiling and each end of the corridor. Boredoom!

The only thing breaking the looooooong hours was the ever occurring blood drawing and pressure measuring. He never thought that breakfast, lunch and dinner would be such highlights of a day. Even when he was taken away by an orderly to a new test with a machine going “ping” or “pong”. He was amazed by how far into his body the probes could reach. As a Star Trek fan he found his dream come true when entering the loudest machine in the hospital. That is apart from his roommates. The Magnetic Resonance Imaging Machine (IMR)! At least he was offered earmuffs for the sound. The result was that the ears was the only part of his body not going blue from cold. He was pleased to hear they found something in his head! Not so rude at this machine!

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Not so pleased when the doctor later told him they could confirm that he suffered a smal, but yet a stroke. The words hit him like punch right in the face. Would he now turn into a walking zombie like the other patients in the ward? They reassured him that he would probably be fully recovered but they needed some more test to figure out why he had this stroke. He was convinced the nurses only wanted him to stay since he was the youngest inmate, no sorry, patient in the ward.

Needles and pins

He had to spend a few more days at the hospital to find out how many differents sizes of needles there is before he was sent home. Finally this is over he thought. Just before he was leaving the doctor gave him a long list of medicines he needed to eat for the rest of his life. So this was the reason for all the probing, to make sure the pills would fit the throat. As he went of in the Taxi did he not see the doctor carrying a golf bag with a medical company logo?

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Invisible

Invisible

He was grunting to himself as he poked through the waste basket. Without looking up he moved to the next. Now mumbling louder he started to poke this one also. He looked up triumphant as he found a returnable bottle. A half eaten hamburger was also collected after he taken a bite.

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People walked passed him as if he was not there. Amazingly nobody bumped into him even if the railroad station mall was really crowded at rush hour. Even the mobile phone zombies managed to avoid him. It was like there was some kind of advanced radar system keeping the two worlds apart.

I wondered why this man ended up here. Dirty and worn down clothes. Hair that was a long time away from Head & Shoulders. I recalled the commercial with that hockey player telling the team. “First shampoo, then balsam”. I didn’t think he would care if he only was allowed a shower.

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I was disturbed by the waitress that came with my coffee. When I looked out for the man again he was gone. Suddenly I saw him between two security guards leading him out from the station mall. Out in the cold. Strange that the only ones saw him was the security guards. What was the risk? Probably that he dampen the shopping spirit by reminding us what can happen if we stop fitting in.

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