Bjorn, a retired chief of police from Norway, currently working part-time for a publishing company specializing in true crime stories, has a brother whose son is attending university, studying music, in Lincoln, Nebraska, where my father attended college not too far from his own home town of Edgar, Nebraska. Bjorn's favorite true crime story of the evening involved a Danish airstewardess who was murdered and then dismembered in a wood chipper by her American husband, much the same as the victim in the movie
Fargo from the Coen brothers, originally from Minnesota, my home state's northwesterly neighbor, and home of the camp where I first learned French. Bjorn's best friend's wife is an artist, a painter. Bjorn's friend looks just like my father, though my dad never sported quite that elegant a moustache. My father's side of the family is Danish (hence Mikkelsen and not Mickelson, which would make us Swedish, possibly German or just poor spellers). Bjorn, here on vacation every August for the past four years, works with a Danish man who has also brought his family on vacation here in Antibes this week. Bjorn and his wife spent a three week vacation in the States, visiting places such as Chicago, Los Angeles, and of course, Fargo, where they were greeted like family when every third person they met shared their last name. They also went to....Portland.
Did I mention Bjorn and his wife bought one of my paintings last night?
