text and images britt-arnhild
A few years ago my parents moved from my mother´s childhood home, the huge red wooden house my grandpa Benjamin bought back in 1930. Selling the house, and moving out, was a process including a lot of work, especially when it came to emptying the basement and the attic. Almost 80 years of stuff to go though.
Somehow an old cardboard box found its way to The House in the Woods during this process. "Britt-Arnhild, we don´t have time to go through this box now. Can you find space for it in The House in the Woods until later?"
The box was filled with letters and papers which had belonged to grandpa Benjamin, my mother´s father who was born in 1900, died of cancer in June 1958, only two months after my birth.
Grandpa Benjamin spent his last months at the national cancer hospital in Oslo, but was allowed a few visits home. I still have a letter my mother wrote to her dad telling him about the "beautiful little baby girl". The best "memory" I have though, is the tale I am told that grandpa saw me only once, I was only a few days old then, and a devoted christian as he was, he let his hands rest on my head and blessed me.
I am having a quiet weekend, and decided to do some tidying in the basement. There I found the old cardboard box, brought it up to the livingroom and went through the contents.
Tears and smiles walked hand in hand for a few hours.
The first thing I opened was another cardboard box, a tiny little one, white with beautiful flowers painted on its surface. Inside I found all the letters and telegrams grandma Olga got after her husband died. Letters written on stationary with a black frame, words of love and comfort, quotes from the Bible, tiny little cards which had been attached to flower bouquets long time faded. Most of the condolesences from Trondheim or close by, also quite a few from the US, from relatives in the Midwest.
From a brown, worn cardboard cylinder I drew out rolls of paper. In 1923, just before grandpa Benjamin married grandma Olga, he spent a year studying. Here were all his exam papers. Drawings, writings, numbers, maths, geometry.
Grandpa Benjamin was an orderly, methodical man. He saved everyting, and then I mean EVERYTHING, all neatly sorted.
I continued my travel into the past, and found one treasure after another.
(This little box with business cards, wrapped in purple tissue paper........it might be perfect in an advent decoration......)
When I opened this red file, made out of thick, faded, red paper, I had to sit down for a long time.
Ration cards.
From the years just after the war.
My mind traveled. What was life like?
The hardship of the every days. The joy, the pleasures, the laughter, the love. Combined with tears and worries.
A tiny piece of yellow paper to be changed for a bar of soap.
By the way, can you see the way the folder is made, sewn together. Well kept more than 60 years later.
As I´ve already written, grandpa Benjamin was a devoted christian. There were dozens of tiny little handwritten books in the old cardboard box. Written by pencil in Benjamin´s steady hand. Soul learning, mission history, all by grace - the themes were beautifully written on the front page, inside grandpa had written down lessons learned.
There was also a book about mission in Sudan, (did grandpa Benjamin ever consider becoming a missionary?), and one about the history of the Sunday School in Norway.
Two thin white folders, one named payed bills, the other named unpayed bills.
A sheet with a contract for a piano, bought for NOK 650. I am thinking of framing this paper. Somehow it contains all the music my mother gives from her playing.
(We had supper with my parents last night, nephew Benjamin had made pizza, mother Marta played for us, Schubert, Peterson-Berger, Sibelius)
Grandpa Benjamin loved music. He bought my mother the piano when she was a child, and when he went to christian meetings to speech, from a young age my mother followed him, to play to the songs. Grandpa sang in a choir, and he taught himself to play the violin.
Often they played together, violin and piano.
My inner ear listens and I can hear it all.
One beautiful old book, an account book, with the figures neatly written.
Then a few surprises in the bottom of the box.
They must have found their way over from grandma Olga´s stuff.
Old buttons, knitting needles, a leftover shuttle from an old miniature loom, a beautiful bracelet made of tiny little seashells.
I will bring the box back to my mother. She is the owner of the stuff. But before giving it back, I will take out a few treasures for myself, to borrow.......
...the paper which tells that grandpa Benjamin has bought a piano, it is too much music in this paper, it needs to be hung on a wall
...the box with B. Kobberrød´s business cards
---the red paper folder
and
.....the seashell bracelet, which will be my prayers for my family rosary.
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