Monday 27 September 2004

Pic of the day: I suppose an English equivalent might be "bundle of joy". (Screenshot from Sims2 again.)

Lykkeliten

This Norwegian word can be translated as "small one of happiness". Literally happiness-small, but English doesn't build words that way and it would not be obvious that it wasn't the happiness that was diminished, quite the opposite.

Anyway, it is the title of a Norwegian song. It is probably not translated into English, as it does not fit our image of English culture. In fact, the song is not played very often here in Norway either anymore, it seems. And small wonder: It was a classic for my parents' generation. The baby who caused the song to be written had already lost his job when I was in high school, or so said my literature teacher. And by now my own generation is starting to see their first grandchildren.

Even so, I suspect most adults will recognize the song easily. The melody is catchy and unique, and the lyrics emotionally charged. It is a reflection on the beauty and wonder of an ordinary baby being born in an ordinary country, the miracle of new human life.

Which is why it is not necessarily a very good thing that people recognize it so easily. Not when I keep humming it all day at work. ^_^*

***

What can I say? The Sims made me do it! Or at least they reminded me of the song, which I just happen to have on a CD. OK, I just happened to buy that record because of that song, but that's many years ago, and I didn't think of it for a long time. (The last time, I believe, was April 4th, 1999.) Not until my fertile turtle of a Sim, Nanna Vrimoen, started to wish for a baby again while still potty-training the twins. Then again, their biological clocks tick pretty fast.

Of course, now that the twins go to school and have more advanced wishes than "be cuddled by Mom" and "learn to talk", they too occasionally come up with "new family member" in their wish list. I'm not sure about the realism of this: I believed that the common reaction, when told that they are about to get a new little brother or sister, was: "I don't want a little brother or sister! I want a PONY! Can't you have a pony instead?"

***

I don't know ... I guess playing the Vrimoen family kinda dredged up memories of other fertile families I have known, real ones. It used to be that most of my friends – for lack of a better word – were Christians with a firm belief that children were a blessing from God. The eerie thing is that to a large extent they treated them accordingly. Then again, I guess my parents treated me that way too, as if I was somehow worthy of respect despite how I acted. So I guess I felt at home with these people, although in retrospect there were probably some of them who had to grit their teeth when the blessing seemed like a curse. But love is a strange thing, whether it comes directly from Heaven or from the genes or is passed down through the generations.

So watching the parents and the older brother taking care of the toddlers, and the mother already starting to look forward to doing it all over again ... it should have seemed crazy, but it seemed familiar. I tell myself from time to time that babies are loud, smelly human larvae. Well, they are. But somehow people love them anyway.

Well, most people. It was in the news today, some guy in the city where I work seems to have killed his girlfriend's baby. The horrified reaction really says it all. Killing people is bad enough, but killing babies is beyond vile – it pretty much disqualifies you from being considered a human ever again. Luckily it is so rare that it makes it to national broadcasting and the front pages every time.

Babies are ... sacred, I guess is the best word. I think this may be why Christmas has become so popular. Not just in Christendom, where it has grown from a fairly small story being told to one of the biggest celebrations, to rival Passover and probably way ahead of Pentecost (unless you're a Pentecostal, I guess). But it has spread even beyond our religion, and I can see why. Because the mystery of incarnation is something we confront anew with each child born into the world, a fleeting moment where Heaven and Earth seems to meet in a child's eyes.