" GRANDPA, WHAT EXACTLY IS A "VIKING"? "

Growing up in Vopnafjörður, Iceland, Grandpa always said "Viking kids don't cry," One day I said "I'm not a Viking, what I have heard they were mean people!" 

Grandpa looked at me and said: "Vik, in Icelandic means a bay, inlet or a fjord. 

So anyone who lives by a fjord could be called Viking or Vikingur which means "One who comes from the fjords."

s

"As many Icelander can tell  you  living by a fjord is not for the faint of heart  and don't cry over small stuff.  We learn to toughen up at young age, that's what I am teaching you: Kids from the fjords don't cry, they can stomp their feet yell and holler but don't whine and cry." Grandpa frowned and then said "In the old days there were many that went berserk and went raiding other countries but that's a different story. So, Diddamin, I repeat Viking kids don't cry!"

NICE SURPRISE!

Hallgrimskirkjan.

                  STANDING TALL!

ICONIC CHURCH IN REYKJAVIK, ICELAND.

After living here in the united states since 1945, (when I
came as a WW.II War-bride) only in 2012 when Eyjafjallajokull erupted and got in the news, was my country, Iceland, really recognized, at least in central Illinois :-)

Before that, I usually got a blank look when I answered the, inevitable, question about my accent. Now it seems like so many have either been there, have a friend or a relative who has been there, or have Iceland on their bucket list!

Going back to my "nice surprise"; I was in Red Wing, Minnesota in October for my youngest grand-daughter wedding. As we were leaving the Motel I picked up a local magazine called "Generations of Today."

Later I was browsing through it and came across theses delightful photos and information!

I love surprises like this!

NINETY THREE AND STAYING FIT - THIS IS HOW I DO IT!

I don't need to go to the gym - no special equipment needed.

                          ***********

My routine; at least ten sit-ups before getting out of bed. Use a wall to stretch as high as possible, fingers spread, then stretch more! Stand on tip-toe stretch again! HIGHER!

Next, do hamstring stretches.

                                     Now do the plank and hold to count of thirty (or more)

After the plank, do the "dog" stretch, again for the count of thirty or more, same  for the "cat" stretch.

"Dog"  stretch     

"Cat" stretch.

Kitchen is a  good, safe place to exercise and do the microwave hop! While the  microwave is on the count-down  hop - dance- prance, then clap your hands!!!

     

Good exercise for strengthening legs and for balance!

OUR ONE AND ONLY, FOREVER HOUSE.

Over our younger years my husband and I  moved several times, like so many folks. The first few years it
was all rental apartments.  We did as many other

renters did; cleaned, washed windows, painted when allowed to do so...took good care of the property.

When, in later years we bought our first house, moved and started fixing up; painting the rooms according to our taste, putting in better insulation and so on...

The lawn was mowed, bushes trimmed... Again we were not alone in this desire to take care of our dwellings. 

What got me to thinking was how many of us are so careful to take care of our temporary living places, even though we'd know that we would likely  move again and again... 

But we are not so careful to take care of the one permanent dwelling we don't get move out of, and  get a new one...

Our bodies is the one and only permanent house we'll ever have and it must
last as long as we live! Just think of that for a minute...Are we really as aware of the need of taking good care of this "one and only forever house"  as we are on with our temporary homes?

With the house comes the need for power tools - lawnmowers, perhaps a truck, a car...All oiled - checked for good operation...

But what about our forever house? The one that has to last as long as we breathe...? Hmm? 

KEEP THE MACHINE MOVING, GO FISHING, CLIMB A MOUNTAIN, JUMP ROPE...

We cant live like chickens in a coop and expect to be able to soar the skies like seagulls...

I am far to busy enjoying life to be limited by my age. Whatever that means

" TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH CAVE"

Indoor rock-wall climbing at UPPER LIMITS in Bloomington,
Illinois, in preparation for climbing down into Vatnshellir Cave,
 Snæfellsnes, Iceland.

Before we descended down the 114 feet spiral stairs, each of us
was given a flashlight.

We walked carefully, slipping and sliding about 600
  feet from the winding stairs we were instructed to
 turn off all lights. The darkness was absolute.


At first - so was the silence - but then we heard ever so soft drip,
another drip - then a slurp ...Someone cleared their throat...It was quite eerie at the same time exciting experience.

I appreciated the feeling as I was writing an adventure story for teens called "THE SILVER ARROW" and part of my story takes place right here. So does "THE  INNER SPACE ALIENS." Second of trilogy coming this winter.



By the way, going down was easy
climbing back up was harder :-)

Vatnshellir, Iceland

A FEW PHOTO COLLECTIONS OF A NONAGENARIAN...

 

THIS IS WHAT STARTED IT ALL! A MARRIAGE IN THE DÓMKIRKJAN IN REYKJAVIK, MARCH 25, 1945.

                           *************


3 BIG FISH ON ONE LINE, NOT BAD :-) IN SKAGAFJÖRÐUR, ICELAND


                          **************








LEARNING TO SHEAR ALPACA, EASIER THAN SHEAR ICELANDIC SHEEP...GRANDDAUGHTER'S ALPACA RANCH IN NEBRASKA.


                ***************

 POSING FOR MY 90TH. SHERIDAN HOUSE,
PEORIA, ILLINOIS.



                       ************

I KNOW MY BODY...WHEN THE KITCHEN STARTED SPINNING I TOOK BABY ASPIRIN AND CALLED FOR HELP RIGHT AWAY...MY TWO SISTERS SAID THEY WOULD HAVE GONE BACK TO BED UNTIL THEY FELT BETTER.

WRONG THING TO DO - MINUTES DO COUNT!


                          ****************

IMPROMPTU DANCE WITH A STRANGER IN  A WINERY IN VERMONT, WHERE HEIDI, MY YOUNGEST CHILD, AND I WERE TRAVELING THROUGH.

WHEN I HAD THE STROKE THE DOCTOR AT THE E.R. TOLD ME THAT DRINKING A GLASS OF RED WINE AT NIGHT WAS VERY BENEFICIAL FOR LOWERING MY BLOOD PRESSURE. SO WE STOPPED TO CHECK IT OUT. FUN!

                          ******************

BESIDES PAINTING AND "DOLLING" UP A GOOD HOUSE HAS GOOD INSULATION, WE MADE SURE OF THAT.


                       ******************

THE LADDER WORK PREPARED ME WHEN ANOTHER DREAM CAME TRUE IN JUNE OF 2018...FIRST WAS PARAGLIDING, THEN ONTO ZIP-LINING AND THEN THE DREAM   HIKING TO KATLA GLACIER ICE CAVE AND TRY ICE CAVE CLIMBING!!! WOW! NEVER, EVER GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS.


                       ****************


KEEP MOVING, DON'T  "RUST UP"!!!

 

"LUCK" IS PREPARATION MEETING AN OPPORTUNITY... 

BE PREPARED...

                *************

MY FATHER JONAS, A MAN WHO LOVED THE SEA..

There were two men who inspired me to live life to the fullest and not be afraid of venture, wherever it might take me, my grandpa (Afi) Bjorn and my Father (Pabbi) Jonas.

My father, Jónas Björnsson was born at Hámundarstaðir, Vopnafjörður, Iceland on June 13th 1887. He was the oldest of three siblings... Páll Helgi, a sister, Þórbjörg and a half-brother, Hámundur (Bjössi).

Grandpa Björn -Afi- raised his children (and me) with the saying ''old enough to hold your fork and eat, old enough to work, plenty to do around here", also, "Viking kids don´t cry!'' He combined farming and fishing, splitting his time between sea and land.

Father did not care for farm life, instead his love for the ocean was evident early in his life when he was able to swap chores with his brothers who liked farming better than fishing. He left home at age 18 and went to Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland, there he entered the Navigation School of Reykjavik. Graduating in the spring of 1924. After he and my mother married and had five children, he was pretty much gone fishing and we didn't see much of him. As the war raged on during WWII  we were in constant worry as he sailed across the Atlantic to England.

Of us five kids - three daughters the two sons - I was most like him and tried to imitate his mannerism. Even to the rolling gate of the seafaring man, much to the merriment of my siblings who would laugh, then imitate me imitating Father.

I was a married and living in America when I found out that my Father was quite the poet who jotted down lyrics at every opportunity; to quote a friend of his, Ragnar Eliasson, on my Father's 80th Birthday :"Jonas is a quiet man by nature but funny and happy in the company of his friends...Not a few are all the poems and verses this friend of mine has uttered at various moments..."
 I now have a few of his writings that I hope to be able to translate and publish...no problem for me to do that for my Icelandic friends and family!

The photo below is of trawler ICELAND II (Father in white shirt in center) that foundered off of Nova Scotia in a brutal winter storm in 1967 - all ten men perished. My Father was in Iceland at the time, but I didn't know that when I picked up our local newspaper -The Daily Pantagraph, in Bloomington, Illinois - and below photo was on front page as A.P. news.

It was one of my, few, awful times... so far away and communication at that time was really bad, it took all day for a phone call  from the U.S. that had to go through London, England, to reach Reykjavik, Iceland, where my family lived.

OLDEST STEEL VESSEL IN ICELAND.

Thank you, Garðar for this info:

Oldest steel vessel in Iceland, Ieda Herman...your dad, Jónas Björnsson  told me be had been captain on this vessel at one time, don´t remember the year or her name then, must of been between WWII and his move to fishing in PEI, Canada.

Garðar BA 64 is thought to be the oldest steel ship in Iceland, built in Norway as a whaling vessel over one hundred years ago. It was launched in Norway in 1912, the year the Titanic sank in the North Atlantic Ocean. It was named Globe IV and was equipped with both sails and a steam engine to use when the weather was still. It was specially reinforced to endure the harsh conditions of the Southern Ocean where it was used to hunt whales.

Globe IV was sold to the Faroe Islands in 1936 where it got a brand-new name and a somewhat less dignified role in the whale-hunting business. At the end of the second world war the ship was sold once again. This time to Iceland. Once here it was given an Icelandic name, Siglunes SI 89, and the old steam workhorse which has powered it all those years was replaced with a 378 hp Ruston Hornsby diesel engine. The ship traded owners and names for number of years until 1963 it finally acquired the name it has today, Garðar. It was a good ship and served many owners well for a long time.

In December 1981 Garðar BA 64 was deemed unfit for duty. Instead of sinking it at sea as was the custom in those days when ships went out of serice it was rammed ashore at Skápadalur Valley in Patreksfjörður. Today Garðar awaits its inevitable rusty fate in the sand providing tourists with a spectacular scene and just the perfect photo opportunity.

Definitely on my bucket list for a photo op next time I visit my homeland!

I AM OFTEN ASKED "HOW DO YOU DO IT?" MY ANSWER: "KEEP MOVING!"

Anyone who knows me hears me constantly say "keep moving!"


A few years back my husband and I were traveling from Illinois to Duluth Minnesota. We left quite late as I had to finish installing custom draperies for a customer of mine. My husband drove all the way to just north of Eau Claire, Wisconsin where I took over the driving. About forty minutes later I went to sleep at the wheel and went into the median ditch. We were airborne over a culvert and stopped on the other side, After a stunned moment I opened my door to get out - My husband groaned "don't move, you may have broken bones!" I mumbled back "gotta move, gotta move!." By then people had stopped and told me to stop trying to walk, as I was hunched over the hood of the car trying to move.
Ambulance came shortly and we were taken to the hospital in Eau Claire, then by helicopter to Milwaukee. My husband had a broken back and bruises and I had less serious but painful broken ribs, cracked collar bone and bruised sternum.

 In just a few days  was able to get up and move around, after being taped up, - albeit painful breathing! - I was told that because I was in the habit of moving I had healed faster!

I honestly believe that my determination in always moving has kept me fit even into my nineties. I do my sit-ups before getting out of bed - then planks, cat and dog stretches, hamstring and a little hop. Even when traveling - which I do a lot of -  I like to do my "microwave hop" dance in the kitchen and "shake my body all about"!

It's so tempting to "take it easy" and become a couch potato and frankly get rusty, which reminds me... a  month ago I was in Winona, Minnesota. Driving by a farm and I saw what looked like rusted-out model T-Ford. The weeds had grown up all around it as it sat in the field. I kept driving and arrived into town. As I came to an intersection and slowed for a stop-light a Model T-Ford pulled up on its way to the Antique Car Show I knew was in town. Wow! It's body was impeccably painted shining sea-green, the white-wall tires were spotless white and gleaming chrome!
I am no antique car expert, but Model T-Fords are hard to miss, I couldn't help but to think: One car was at "rest" and rusting in the field, the other was oiled up, kept up and moving!

Lesson here? Don't let your body "rust up" it's the only one you'll have!

Keep dancing, keep moving! Yes I'm chronologically gifted with 93+ years

and still able to jump my rope...

There is an old rule in neuroscience that does not alter with age... use it or lose it...

AFI SAID: VIKING KIDS DON'T CRY....

                                                            AFI  (Grandpa Bjorn).

Just musing, and thinking back on growing up in Iceland. Of all my family, my grandpa (Afi) in Vopnafjordur was my favorite person. He had the most wonderful attic room full of books, stacked on the floor, on the window sill as all the shelves were full. On the floor were newspapers from Canada called The Heimskringla. In all that chaos his desk had amazing free space where he spread out his papers.

 He didn't mind when I came in and watched him as he was working on intricate  math problems that covered his pages. He didn't say I was to "curious" and "asked to many questions." He hadn't even scolded when I had tinkered with his motorboat, got it started and, un-expectantly, took it for a short spin in the fjord (I'd forgotten all about this when I wrote my memoir!). Fortunately it was just a big curve on a smooth ocean and I was able to bring it back and ease it up to the pier as my uncle Bjossi and Afi came running; Bjossi hollering, waving his arms about and yelling "girl, don't you EVER learn!?" While Grandpa gave me a slow wink as he stroked his graying mustache, hiding a grin.

Afi owned a farm called Hamundarstadir. The house was three-gabled and turf covered the roof, where I had to constantly chase sheep off, although most of them wandered out into the foothills where we had to find them in the Fall for the sheep-roundup (great festive days!)  He also had a few milk-cows, one that was called Red, I was sure she was the meanest cow in all of Iceland. Afi was also a good fisherman and frequently took his motorboat out into the fjord bringing back large cache of fresh fish, our main food.

My Father, Jonas, Afi's first-born, didn't take to farm life and left for Reykjavik where he entered the Marine Navigation school, graduating in 1924, after which he was pretty much on the ocean the rest of his life. As I was growing up, I didn't see much of him. Afi was quite proud of him and told me how tough Jonas was " a true Viking kid that didn't cry" as he, Afi, would tell me if I got to whimpering and missing my siblings he would remind me "Diddamin, Viking kids don't cry..." I learned early on to "tough it out." But I seemed to have this curiosity..."But Afi, I am not a Viking kid, they are long gone,"  besides what exactly WAS a Viking, what kind of word is that anyway...?"

Oh boy, did I get a lesson when he so grandly proclaimed that my ancestors - Starting with Hrolfur Redbeard in 860 - were great navigators and shipbuilders. Brave men and women that followed their hearts for adventures. For years many Icelandic men, women and children were challenged to overcome harsh weather, long winter nights - by grit and determination - "and this shows up even yet in the independent spirit of most of us Icelanders".. Afi twirled the ends of his short, handlebar, mustache."And the word Viking? Well, Diddamin, that is actually an Icelandic word -VIKINGUR - and means he who comes from the fjord. Yes those were cruel days in many ways, but he Vikings were not any meaner than other groups that roamed the world."

I grew up following Afi's words "Don't let fear rule your life, enjoy it!"
Hmm, maybe that is why, when a United States Navy man proposed at a second dance and I said "yes" and came to America in 1945 - by myself. Of course I didn't know his family, I'd never been out of Iceland. I spoke limited English and he spoke no Icelandic...but that is another story...

I want to share my grandfather's tenacity and great outlook on life.

Live while you're alive!

,

Just musing....

In June, my youngest daughter, Heidi, and I traveled from central Illinois to St. Louis, Mo to catch a nonstop plane to Keflavik, Iceland. We arrived in plenty of time which was a good thing...

Something about the passport of this elderly woman shut down ALL the computers of the WOW service desk!!! Technicians came running in, back out again, and in again...

In the meantime the travelers kept coming and standing in line! A GLITZ! After almost an hour the problem was solved, not my passport, just bad timing for me for a computer glitz to take place, whew!

Two hours after taking off, at 11 p.m, we flew through the night in constant sunrise! Poor photo through the window of airplane.


Arrived in Keflavik by 11 a.m.and got our rental camper and hit the road! Drove to Vik where we met Gisli and crew for the paragliding event! Flying over the black sands of Vik and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, higher than the seagulls, is an unforgettable experience!

Next morning it was a zip-line event, a new adventure offered by Gisli and his True Adventure company. The landscape of the hike to the "take-off" site is surrealistic and yet gorgeous.

What fun this new sport is, the view from above is phen'awesome! 

Next it was another dream come true for this 93+ chronologically gifted woman...Try ice-cave climbing! Wow! I was not very elegant but I got to try it... At the Katla Glacier Ice-cave!





Thank you Gisli and Birgir at True Adventure for making this 83-year-old dream come true - at the age of ten and growing up in Iceland I tried to fly like the seagulls but an earthquake spoiled the attempt (Full story in my memoir GROWING UP VIKING.) Never to late to realize your dream!

MUSIC UNDER THE BRIDGE..

                                         

                                           Bernie King and The Guilty Pleasures, Blues-Grass.
                                         

                                          Fun evening in Wabash, Minnesota

Under the bridge of  Wabash, Minnesota/Wisconsin

The traffic zoomed over and the band played on.:-)

                Gorgeous day visiting the Farmers Market in downtown Winona, Minnesota
                                                      Della - Amma - Marian - Al 

I'm a 93 years old chronologically gifted woman who "aspires to inspire before I expire".
At age ten, growing up in Iceland I wanted to fly like the seagulls. I tried one  day by tying a flour sack on my neck and proceeded to jump/fly from one corrugated shed to another, an earthquake happened to spoil that attempt but not my dream. I waited for years and finally realized the dream as you can see in the photo. Paragliding in Vik, Iceland. Higher than the Seagulls we, Gisli, from True Adventures, and I soared, above the black sand, above the Atlantic! Yes dreams do come true.

Keep moving life beckons!

I move at every opportunity; dancing my microwave-hop, stretching, stretching, doing the "stork-pose" as I wait for the coffee to brew. Keep my brain active by writing - I published my memoir at age 88, had time to write after my ten kids were grown. just last May I received International Book Award Finalist...Never give up and keep it moving: Keep your spirit - mind - and body moving, no one will do it for you. Yes you can!

THE IMPORTANCE OF MOVEMENT.

                                                 Stretch - Stretch - Stretch.

  I am now 93 very active and enjoying life; river rafting - paragliding - zip lining - ice-caving - indoor rock-wall climbing - jumping rope... and constantly asked: What's your secret? If there's one thing I do pretty constantly it is stretching:

Routine: Ten sit-ups while still in bed, roll over and hold a plank position for count of sixty. Then do a dog and cat stretches, after which I swing my legs out of bed to the nearest wall and stretch as high as I can. Then - tightening my abdominal muscles - I slowly lower myself into squat-sitting, bounce up and down a bit and then slowly rise up again. Stand on one leg for a count of ten then switch to the other. Next I do hamstring stretches and shake my body real good to loosen up!

While my coffee is brewing I do my Microwave-hop, jump and dance and stretch, stretch, stretch :-)

I've found that doing this has strengthen my bones, improved my breathing, decreased stress on my joints. Hardly any  fatigue, due to increased more efficient muscle performance.

For hand and eye coordination I like to juggle couple of  balls. I read recently that squeezing those balls is good for lowering blood-pressure!

ON THE HERITAGE TRAIL IN ICELAND.

                                                 THE HERITAGE TRAIL.

My youngest daughter, Heidi, and I recently got back from Iceland. What a delightful trip, we went on the Ring-road stopping at places of interest to us, we have been to Iceland several times and were not stopping at the usual touristy places. We had something different on our minds.We were on our heritage trail.

From the time I was about six years old I went to my Grandparents farm in Vopnafjörður, on the east coast, every summer until I was in my early teens. Every Fall I would return to Reykjavik to be with my parents over the winter and go to school. Since I married and moved to America I had gone back home several times but always drawn to grandpa´s farm where I had spent so much of my growing up time. Hámundarstaðir was the name of the farm, this was on my Father´s side. I knew where Mother was from on the west coast, Breiðarfjörður, but had not really researched or pin-pointed exactly where.

I learned that she was born in Frakkanesi, Skarðshreppur Dalur. We drove along the entire coastline on one side and mountain ranges on the other. We tried to get to this church but the road became impassable for our vehicle. Maybe next time!
It was easy for me to imagine my mother as a young girl playing and running after sunspots like I used to do! Sweet memories, what a blessing.