Just a train ride away

Part 7 Giant trolls, a common Grandmother and shared personality traits

Left to right, RuthANN, me and Sharon, and Ole Bolle smiling down on us.

I stand in a small hut, the home of Ole Bolle¹, Portland's beloved giant troll sculpture, flanked by my family, particularly two women I've waited a lifetime to love, my sister Sharon and cousin RuthAnn.

It's not lost on me that my sister, cousin, and I together measure no more than a tall sunflower, yet here we reunite in a giant troll's digs.  Height is not something our Foulke ancestors passed along to us. 

I also recognize a spirit in each of us, a quiet and gentle nature, but a fearsome strength.  I believe we have dutifully passed these traits along to our children.

I glimpse Ole Bolle in the windows that line the ceiling. He's cute, but I'm far more engrossed with Sharon and RuthAnn. They share an unexplored heritage and are meeting today for the first time. I feel anxious, hoping for a connection between them that doesn't truly belong to me. 

I ask myself,

Why, my girl, is this so important; what does their connection mean to you?

It's a question that I will explore in the following weeks. My initial thoughts are that I've done an excellent job creating my family as an adult and a mother. But I'm still searching for that childhood I never had, sisters and cousins who might help define who I am and what I stand for and share my shortcomings. 

It's much easier to allow for one's faults when we belong to a tribe of misfits, right?

The bittersweet reality of this reunion is that Sharon is in the early stages of dementia², a significant factor behind my decision to visit. Having traversed this path before, I comprehend the preciousness of 'the early stages,' a period when little has slipped away, and the significance of the present moment is paramount. 

Despite Sharon's occasional lapses, our shared memories remain intact. But regarding RuthAnn, she asks me for the third time, "Now, Suzy, how are we related to RuthAnn?" 

Once again, I recount our shared family history, hoping against hope that Sharon and RuthAnn's bond, rooted in our common grandmother, can withstand the effects of Sharon's condition. I release my hopes like a kite to the wind, uncertain of their destination. 

Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash

In my surrender, I move through what feels warm and endless, and I accept and trust that I will have more opportunities to connect with these jewels as they will also have together, whether in this lifetime or the next.

We head from Ole Bolle's hut to enjoy the artwork inside the center while waiting for lunch. Once seated on the outside patio at a table for seven, the cloud cover suggests rain. The waitress offers to move us inside. We choose to remain outside.

There’s a slight possibility that we are all a wee bit stubborn.

The wait staff positions umbrellas above our table. The rain arrives. Rick and Sharon are slightly in the rain line. Our waitress works to adjust the umbrellas. 

You'd think Rick was sitting on a beach enjoying the sun as he encourages me and my peeps. I'm not sure what I did to deserve this man.

The lunch, even with occasional rain showers, is delightful.

We head back to RuthAnn's to drop her off. Rick and I plan to meet later for pizza with Sharon, her girls, and their children. As the group gathers at their favorite pizza place, I again try to soak in the kids from the other end of the table— anything but kids. They are grown, but they are still kids to me. 

The banter at our end of the table with my sister and my nieces is lively and light-hearted. I do my best to learn the nuances of their connections and understand what I can about their histories that span an entire lifetime. The task is, of course, impossible. 

Nonetheless, we all enjoy a sweet connection, a shared sense of humor, and something hard to put a finger on. It may be our Foulke roots that are connecting us on a cellular level.

Our stolen moments come to a close far too soon. I will have one more afternoon with them after our trip to the beach with RuthAnn tomorrow. And yes, Rick will continue to call RuthAnn "Ruth," but she will make considerable strides in desensitizing, and we will have a fabulous time. Back with stories of the beach next week.

1. Ole Bolle, Portland’s beloved giant troll sculpture, is celebrating its first birthday from Aug.11-18 with a week of activities, including movie screenings, crafting and Danish layer cake from Carina’s Bakery in Southwest Portland. The popular attraction has delighted Portlanders since its highly anticipated opening last year.

Nordic Northwest, a nonprofit organization focused on the nations of Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway and Sweden, is leaning into Norse mythology and folklore with troll-themed events for Ole Bolle’s birthday.

2. I would typically avoid discussing a family member's health without permission. However, in this case, I was assured by my niece, Margie, who spoke for the family, that it was okay to share the information about her mother's early stages of dementia. Healing occurs when we share our life stories. It's not just for ourselves, but for others too. It's a way to inspire and connect with each other, to let others know they're not alone in their struggles.

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