Afterword

Coming home to the farm in Småland

Can you imagine us years from today

Sharing a parkbench quietly

How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years,

Silently sharing the same fears

Paul Simon

The night's flight from Washington to Copenhagen goes smoothly for Kurt. He pays many visits to the toilet, but the pain relieving pills cause him to endure and the antibiotic helps the bladder feel a bit better. The airplane lands at Kastrup, the Copenhagen Airport, early in the morning, and Kurt takes the train over the Öresund bridge to south Sweden. He is a bit surprised that the ID control is so sloppy and suspects that it is because he looks so Scandinavian.

At home in the province Småland, a mate picks him up at the railway station and drives him home to the farm. When Kurt arrives at the farm already at noon, his wife is at work and tries to cure patients with pain in the body or the soul.

Actually, Kurt is really tired after only sleeping one of the last three nights. In addition, he has felt depressed by his painful urinary tract infection. At times he feels to go to bed and sleep, but decides that sleep is overrated. There is a lot to deal with in addition to packing up and running some washing machines.

In the mailbox he finds an envelope from the urologist reception. It contains a call for a surgical procedure, a planer of the prostate’s inside, five days later. Kurt draws a deep sigh of relief. It would be so nice to get rid of the two daily catheters. Then he realizes he has to cure his urinary tract infection before the surgeon can enter and plane the prostate.

He calls directly to the urologist and gets a time early tomorrow to check the infection.

Then he goes out into the forests to see what the last storm was about, to feel the smells of the moss and the trees, his moss and his trees. It turns out that most of the devastation from the autumn storm is fixed, so he goes home and starts preparing a real American dinner for his wife, who is expected to be home at 7 PM.

Then Kurt plans to serve bean burgers, French fries and APA, American pale ale. He finds what he needs as a semi-finished product in the freezer and starts cooking. He is making the table and is wondering if he can find a dessert. Yes, he finds a frozen apple pie and an opened packet of ice cream. He feels "as American as apple pie".

When everything is under control, he sits down and goes through the rest of the collected mail. Much is addressed advertising from various help organizations. Most of the time it goes straight into paper recycling. Kurt and his wife are generous monthly donors and are not usually interested in temporary mailings. Just a few of his favorite magazines lure him to read.

Kurt looks forward to telling his wife about his trip. He has sent daily reports to her, but there is still so much more to tell. Soon, the wife will also retire and Kurt looks forward to traveling together.

Where will their first trip together go? Japan maybe? Or Australia?

Another thing he is looking forward to is to hear his wife’s south Swedish dialect again. In the United States, everyone has pronounced his name with an American r and a long u sound, Kuurt. Now he thinks it will feel homely to hear his wife call him Kutt without an r in the way people speak in this part of the world.

He calls his daughters and tells them that he has come home to the farm and everything is fine. They have followed him closely on Facebook so they do not have so many questions. He also calls the grandson as he skyped with the other night. They discuss what they can do together to improve school. Kurt feels enthusiastic and looks forward to a fun and meaningful collaboration with the grandchild.

It takes long before his wife comes home. She never wants to leave the health center until the waiting room is empty. This day is the peak season for flu-like illnesses as well as for hypochondria or health anxiety as it is called nowadays

Kurt rises to go for a beer. On the way between the kitchen sofa and the fridge is as if someone presses a button. Everything is not only black at all. Instead, his consciousness disappears forever.

Kurt falls dead on the floor.

The autopsy later shows that he has died from a massive stroke.

At Kurt's funeral, only music by Neil Young is played. On the tombstone you can read, according to Kurt's own wishes, "It is better to burn than to fade away" from a famous song by Neil Young. The widow would have liked to write "Do you believe me now?" on the gravestone to mark that Kurt was not the hypochondriacal he was sometimes accused of by some relatives.

Kurt’s ashes are expected to be under the tombstone. In reality his widow has spread it illegally in his forests. She knew that it was what he wanted and managed to empty the ashes from the urn when nobody was looking, and slipped the ashes into her handbag. Because the officially grazed urn should not be completely empty, she replaced the ashes with Kurt's own roasted muesli.

The widow see it as a kind of civil disobedience that does not hurt anyone else.

Kurt has also received a large digital gravestone on Facebook. The widow has left Kurt there, even though she knows his password and could close his account. She thinks he would like it to be a forum for all his friends to tell funny stories about Kurt.

His Facebook page was filled soon after his death by the same texts: RIP Kurt Andersson. Thanks for everything Kurt. Many have also been more personal.

Gunnar, an old gritty neighbor who is a Sweden Democrat, has long been annoyed that Kurt has argued both for a generous refugee policy and a higher tax on diesel. Gunnar writes on Facebook something that suggests that he wants Kurt to burn in hell.

The widow enters his Facebook and answer in the name of Kurt:

"Here it is really warm, about 30 degrees, and the sun is shining around the clock. Every day, we choose between three dishes, one Italian, one Indian and one Lebanese. All wines are organic and we always get a glass of liquor with the coffee. I have internet access so I listen to and watch Neil Young on YouTube every day.

In my dayroom I have met many exciting people: Martin Luther King, Marilyn Monroe, Robert Kennedy, Dusty Springfield, Elvis Presley, Edith Piaf, John Lennon and more.

Another good thing here in heaven is that I feel young and horny again. I have met many nice women who seem serious, smart and sweet.

I feel comfortable.

Gunnar! God greets you that, despite being a grumpy old man, you may also be welcome here. Though you have to be prepared to hang out with people from all nationalities. If you persist to drive your dirty diesel car you will end up downstairs.

Love! Kurt”

The widow laughs when she is publishing this last post from Kurt. She knows he would have liked it.

Facts about Småland

• Småland is a province situated in southern Sweden. The area is than Israel and has more than 750,000 inhabitants.

• Småland is a forest landscape and an important part of the industry is connected to wood.

• Småland was the cradle of the worldwide furniture chain Ikea. The creator Ingvar Kamprad was born here.

• Many famous authors have come from Småland. Astrid Lindgren who wrote the books about Pippi Longstocking is one example. The Nobel Prize winner Pär Lagerkvist is another.  
• Linnéuniversitetet in Växjö and Kalmar has about 32,000 students. Jönköping University has 11,000 students.

Read more at www.visitsweden.com/smaland

Final chapter

To shoot the head off in Washington DC

Old man, take a look at my life

I'm a lot like you

I need someone to love me

The whole day through

Neil Young

It's an hour left on the train before we arrive at the terminal station, Washington DC. My journey is now approaching its definitive end. I'm so pleased with everything I've experienced, even though I never met Neil Young.

Maybe I'm going to make a  new trip and try try to meet with Neil Young? No, it's getting winter in the United States now and it's really nothing my body is craving for.

Even less, I long for the Swedish winter. I have seen on Swedish television that it is snowing intensively in Stockholm. I really do not like that. So why do I chose the winter in Sweden?

Of course I long for my family in Sweden, my wife, my children and grandchildren. It's a pity on those who have been home in the cold and the dark when I've enjoyed my luck with the weather on this trip. Life is not fair. But I long for the unfortunate Swedes.

It would be possible to spend winter in Florida or even better in Southern California, but I think I might be bored of it. Beaches are uninteresting. The journey itself, on the other hand, has become a bit like a drug for me. What's so fantastic being on my way? Meetings, but also the movement. It feels like I become a new person every new day in a new place.

For many years I have hated and loved the United States. Both the hate and love have grown during this trip. I really hate the violence and the ignorance and everything else that Donald Trump stands for. The love is still stronger. I love the people who have not voted for Trump, the music and the magnificent nature.

Now, I'll take a break in my relationship with the United States.

The train from Toledo slows gnashing into Union Station in Washington DC exactly at 12.15. I have traveled for 15 hours and emptied the bladder twice. Last night I did it at the train station in Toledo and this morning on the train's toilet. Or did I forget that? It has become so much of a routine that I can not always remember correctly.

Outside the station there is not one single taxi. Other travellers talk of taxi drivers being on strike. I am contacted by a man who claims to run some kind of Uber limousine. He offers me driving to my hotel at a ridiculously high cost. What should I do? I say yes and accompany him to his black long old Lincoln which is standing on a side street. The term black taxis has a new meaning.

Just half an hour later I check in at a pleasant hotel within easy walking distance from the White House. I have already been to the most important tourist destinations and am quite sleepy after being awake almost all night on the train so I start by taking a short nap.

The plane does not leave until tomorrow afternoon, so when I wake up, I decide to contact Margareta Håkansson, an old friend from Gothenburg. Now she works as a freelance journalist here in Washington, I have seen in a Swedish daily newspaper. It has been more than 20 years since we met last.

I'm calling and she sounds happy. We decide to meet at 6 PM at a small simple Italian restaurant in the pleasant Georgetown district near the hotel where I stay.

The decoration in the Italian restaurant moves me to a small pizzeria in Venice, which I have visited several times. I really like the decor here. While I'm waiting for Margareta she texts me announcing that she's a little late, I'm sitting and playing with my phone. I look around and note that more than half of the guests do the same. Maybe Margareta is late because of the tax strike.

When she finally shows up, she looks a lot like she did 20 years ago. The cheeks may be a bit rounder and her radiance is more mature with some gray hair and some nice wrinkles.

The food comes a very short wile after ordering. The six pieces of ravioli are overcooked and cost more than 20 dollar. It does not matter. We are having too much of a nice time to bother with the food. When we tell each other about our lives, we discover that there are great similarities and even greater differences. Margareta is always eight years younger than me, but that difference feels less now than before when we had a short romance.

Talking about our age, she quotes the Swedish singer Lill-Babs: "I'm not old, but I've lived a long time". I would like to feel that way too.

We discuss why men are such idiots. Why is it so common that men harass women sexually? Why do men despise women? Why are men so violent and fill prisons throughout the world? Why do men believe violence can give them right to do anything? Why do men want to decide for and control women and children?

We do not have any good answers, but from slightly different points of view, we completely agree that men are the worst problems in society. Soon one of the world's most disgusting men is moving in the White House, just a few kilometers away.

We are changing the subject from sex to age. Donald Trump is 70 years old, stupid and overweight. Does he really understand the workload that it means to be the president of the United States?

For once I defend Trump. Even though I feel somewhat disabled by my age, there have been examples of politicians who worked in an acceptable way high up in their age. Winston Churchill smoked cigars and was overweight, drank large amounts of whiskey, but was England's prime minister until he was 80 and lived until he was 90.

We agree that age is not what can prevent Trump from fulfilling a four-year term. The ignorance, contempt for facts and the hatred of everything and everyone are significantly greater disability.

In the middle of the meal, I have to pee. I apologize and hurry to the toilet. The pain when I pee is so terrible I feel forced to kick the wall to divert the pain.

Shit, I have had a urinary tract infection again. How do I get on my flight tomorrow? There I cannot sit on the toilet and kick hard on the wall when it hurts badly. Then I might kick down the thin wall.

I have a good friend who compares his pain on a hundred scale. My current is 110 on that scale. A couple of years ago I broke my arm. This hurts a lot more and I know by my previous experience of urinary tract infections that this pain will return every half hour.

I feel desperate. What did I do to deserve this? I know I have done bad things to Mother Earth and some people so this might be well deserved.

Now it's time to enjoy and finish the meal with Margareta before I have to run to the toilet again. Before I have thought of an excuse to leave she gives me with what I first perceive as a kind of invitation. She asks if I want to come home to her and sleep tonight. We have slept together a long time ago for other reasons, but now she makes clear that she wants to know more about my trip than she has already read on Facebook.

I lie and say sorry, but I have several other things to do here in Washington.

Instead, we quickly order tiramisu as dessert. When it comes in, it shows that it has so much cocoa on top that we both can sneeze attacks and Margareta begins giggle as in the old days. I can refrain from laughing.

The next moment I remember Steve and his revolver as a savior from the pain. At once I ask Margareta if she knows where in Washington it is possible to buy a revolver. She looks a bit shocked and wonder if I'm going to smuggle it to Sweden. I assure that I'm just curious because of a discussion I had with a man I met in Detroit.

Margareta believes me and tells that, according to what she heard, U Street is where much crime is concentrated.

We hug and part quickly outside the restaurant. I'm jogging to the hotel and just in time for the next painful toilet visit. Now I get tears in my eyes from the terrible pain when I pee. At the same time, I kick the floor, kicking hard to divert the pain. The wall is so far away that I do not get to kick there.

Then I take a taxi and ask the driver to take me to number 3 on U Street. When I have left the taxi, I realize that I have come to a gentrified part of the street. There are luxury renovations here, and there are signs for both art galleries and urban farms. This is hardly the right environment for doing illegal arms deals.

I walk fast ten blocks without seeing the slightest hint of criminals, at least not my preconceived image of criminals. Shit, now I have to pee right away! I find a narrow, dark alley where I relieve the pressure in severe pain. I feel like a dog when I pee on a lantern pole and kick the ground to lead the pain to the ground.

Then I decide to walk ten blocks more. Now I start entering a district with many bars. Here I feel that chances are increasing to find an illegal gun.

After only a little while, an aged beggar appears and asks if I have any spare change I can give him. I respond with an offer: If you can fix a cheap but working gun for me really fast, you can get 10 dollars commissioned.

He asks me to wait here for ten minutes, and he will quickly try to get a gun. After nine minutes he is back and shows discreetly a worn revolver wrapped in a towel. He also demonstrates that there are six bullets in the spinning magazine. He says that the used revolver costs $ 100 and he wants the promised 10 dollars in commission. I have ten twenty dollars banknotes in the wallet and give him six of them. It may be worth it getting rid of my pains.

I stick the revolver in the trousers and is heading towards the hotel. When I arrive a few hours later I have peed in dark alleys three more times. It hurts like hell every time. I want to shoot me directly, but manage to control myself.

In the hotel, I put the revolver, which turns out to be Smith & Wesson's brand, on the desk, but will pick it up again immediately. I weigh it in my hand and try to put the pipe in my mouth. I understand that is the best to be sure that the bullet is not going to miss the brain.

The thoughts are spinning in my head. Will my 72 years finish here? I am pleased with everything I have experienced in forests and on my travels and especially with the family and all other wonderful people. My life has been almost as I would like in every way. The only important thing that is left is to see my grandchildren grow up, but I will probably not. Some other damn disease will certainly affect me if I do not shoot now.

So much more cannot be left in life than sadness, pain and sorrow.

Or?

This trip may have shown that there could be more. Despite the trouble with the catheters, I have experienced a lot of fun. But still the rest of life feels like a cone that only goes inward. I have less and less fun to wait.

Before I shoot, I have to open the computer. At the top is an email from a grandson who wants to skype before breakfast. That means 2 AM, American East Coast Time. Such a wish I cannot say no to.

I respond to the email, set the phone at 1.45 PM, drop the gun on the toilet, where I intend to shoot myself to facilitate the cleaning staff to wipe the blood. Then I fall asleep quickly. It seems unnecessary to set the phone clock. When I wake up and have peed 1:45 AM, it's the third time I'm up and peed tonight. It still feels like a progress.

Being able to fall asleep between the painful visits at the toilet is probably because the pain is so tiring.

The skyping grandson is enthusiastic about a lot of things and very curious about what I experience on my trip. I do not say a word about that I feel bad, but he seems to look through me because he asks me repeatedly how I feel.

I avoid answering it and tell him about various exciting things I've been doing in recent days and that I stay close to the where Barrack Obama still is the president. The grandson asks me to wave if I see the president. I promise. If I see the president elect, I will boo and give him the finger instead.

We continue to discuss essential things like the likelihood that I will be able to do a somersault before Christmas. I tell him I’ll start training right away to get it done.

The grandchild also tells about important things that have happened in Sweden. For example, the Swedish singer Owe Thörnqvist, 87 years old, will attend the music competition Melodifestivalen,. The grandson thinks it's something for me to enjoy, because I'm not as old at all. So I have the time for more fun.

We discuss what we can do together because the school in Stockholm, where he lives, need more resources. I promise to spend a lot of time with him to make people wake up and realize how important the school is. I promise to do this as soon as I come home to Sweden.

After the conversation with my grandson, I have a new feeling. I realize that the shooting my head off might not be a good idea. Giving up for an adversity like severe pain does not make me the good example I want to be for my grandchildren.

Now I have promised to come home and fight for a better school.

I may not attend the Melody Festival when I'm 87 because I'm singing extremely false, but maybe I can run a half marathon, bike around the Mediterranean, become a mayor or find new goals in life.

I am also very curious about what will happen in the future. It would be sad to be dead when Donald Trump is kicked out of the White house as well when the Sweden Democrats leave the parliament after a disastrous election, when Sweden becomes a republic and when Hungary is excluded from the EU.

Above all, I want to be there when my grandchildren reach the adult age and follow them on their way there. I want to believe that they will be good people and would love to be there to get confirmation.

There must be other ways of managing an 8 hours flight with an urinary tract infection than avoiding the journey with the help of a Smith & Wesson. It might work to find a doctor early in the morning. If the doctor prescribes a fast-acting penicillin or a powerful pain reliever or both doesn’t matter. The question is where to throw the revolver if I'm not going to use it. I will find a way.

When I wake up at 7.15 AM I have been on the toilet four times since our skyping. I hurry down to the front desk to find out how to quickly get a doctor. The receptionist gives me a phone number and says I can call at 08.00. Then I'll get an answer right away we make an appointment in one hour. The doctor's office is on the 10th street and is very nice with lots of art that looks expensive but uninteresting and uncomfortable but elegant furniture.

A sign in the waiting room says "Do not blame us – here we supported Bernie Saunders".

I soon meet the doctor, who is a 40-year-old man. He understands what is my problem and comes with a simple and hopefully effective solution. I get ten tablets, called Ciprofloxacin – antibiotics. They are especially targeted at urinary tract infections. He also gives me ten strong pain reliever pills that will make life bearable until I meet my Swedish doctor, hopefully tomorrow afternoon or the day after tomorrow.

I walk back to the hotel to pack my things. Throughout the trip, I have either given all the coins I have received for tips or collected them in a bag that I intended to give to a beggar last day in the United States.

One block from the hotel is a woman who appears to be between 80 and 90 with a sign saying she is freezing and hungry. I hurry up to my room and pick up the bag with coins and give to her.

She thanks and starts coughing at the same time. I feel sorry for her and pick up one of my last 20 dollars banknotes and give to her. How long will she survive sitting on the sidewalk in the winter cold?

Already at lunch, my life is almost bearable and I'm walking to the nice restaurant Old Ebbitt Grill, very close to the White House. Because I'm alone, it's easy to get a small table, even though the queue with families waiting for tables is long. I order fish and chips and a local Indian pale ale. When I get my beer and is waiting for my food, I suddenly realize I am having a revolver in my pants. I've been going to get rid of it, but do not really know how. I think I have better keeping a proper distance from the White House.

The strong pain relieving pills have resulted. I do not feel any pain when I pee anymor, but the antibiotic has not cured the infection in the bladder and after three beeps of beer I have to run to the toilet. I pee, but not barbed wire. I do not even need to kick the wall to divert attention from the pain.

Nevertheless, I am once again inspired to shoot me. Now is the last chance I want to avoid a painful old age. I put the revolver’s pipe in my mouth, close my eyes and think about it. I still have to write a resignation letter before I shoot. Though it could be a text messaage on the phone from here.

What should I write? That I do not stand my pain anymore? That I have no desire to live like an old man? Or should try one last joke? I could write that although this looks like suicide it's a murder. That the one who is currently aiming for me with a revolver is an older man with strange haircut and scary face color. He says he's out to shoot foreigners who come too close to the White House. Should the Washington police investigate it? No, this is nothing to make jokes about.

Instead, I'm struck by the insight that now that the pain is not as bad as before, I'm thinking more clearly. This whole trip shows that life as an old man is worth living every day – at least almost every day. The conversation with my grandson tonight showed how meaningful life can be, even though I know it will hurt very much the next time I pee and it's likely to be within half an hour.

So I try to rub the fingerprints and dna away from the revolver and throw it in the toilet's bin. On top of that I put a lot of half-woven paper towels and go to the dining room to finish eating and drinking.

Now I'm ready to live 72 more years.

From Kurt Andersson’s Facebook 

Martin Franklin, Atlanta

Now I have had my first backlash in my new life. I went to a party last night. There was a buffet. I decided to take some more after the first round. Then I decided to take some more and some more and some more. Today I am too tired to take a walk. But tomorrow I will take a really long walk.

Sonny Smith, Memphis

Now the Blues Siblings have recorded most of our album. We are very pleased with our new drummer Julia. We are pleased with our new songs. We are really pleased that the record company is helping us to make a tour in the US in the spring and a tour of Europe next summer. I hope that all our friends on Facebook will come and see us. We would also be happy if you bring all your friends.

Mia Turner, New Orleans

Hi Kurt! Tina has a message to you. After your conversation about her arthritis and about the emissions from her big Lincoln she has now bought a new car. She did consider buying a Tesla X but found it far too expensive. So she ended up buying a Toyota Prius Plus. She really likes that new car and her account for gas is less than half what it used to be with the Lincoln. She wants to thank you for giving her the idea.

Mary Jackson, Dallas

A couple of weeks ago I met Kurt, a nice man from Sweden. He was asking a lot of questions about hipsters. I was then making fun of hipsters, but now I have changed my mind. I still find it a bit ridiculous that most of them look the same with their big beards. But the more I think of it the more I like other things about being a hipster, the natural food and so on. So you can call me hipster now.

Natalie Miles, Albuquerque

I have some wonderful news. I have fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. She lives in Miami, so now I plan to try to find a job there. Is there anyone out there who has contacts with a hospital in Miami?

It is great that I at 69 have discovered a new kind of love. Life is really, really good. I hope that all of you have an open mind.

Megan Reeves, Albuquerque

Now it is almost winter in New Mexico, so I got the chance to really test my solar cells. They are heating my house and giving all the electricity I need for cooking and looking at the television. I recommend all of my friends to invest in solar cells.

Gisela Wagner, Berlin

Kurt! Bist du noch in USA? Ich wollte gern im Frühling Schweden besuchen und mehr sprechen über Donald Trump und Politik in der Welt.  Wenn ist die beste Zeit Schweden zu besuchen? Was soll ich unbedingt sehen? Was soll ich unbedingt nicht sehen? Kann es Schwierigkeiten sein die Grenze zu passieren?

Robert Nelson, Kansas City

Hi Kurt, I managed to get surgery faster than expected, and now after a couple days I feel OK.

I realize that you are about to leave the United States. Now I’ll be in good shape to go Europe in the spring. Have a safe ride home. See you in the spring!

Angela Williams, San Francisco

Today I am really pissed off with Russia interfering with our democratic elections. Don’t try to fool our media.

Shame on you, Vladimir Putin!

Fuck you, Donald Trump!

Emma Jones, Portland

I am changing my mind again. I think Donald Trump will be able to do a good job ruling this country. He is going to make America great again without going to war.

Lucas Owens, Frisco

Today the sun is shining in the Rocky Mountains, but I am planning to leave this beautiful valley to visit Europe. I got a friend in Sweden. Is there anyone out there who can give me some advice which other countries I should visit?

Laura Lander, Denver

Today I am leaving Denver for a month. I am going to have some time in the sun in South Africa, Namibia and Botswana.

Steve Miller, Detroit

Kurt! I understand that you soon are leaving the country. It was really nice meeting you. I will try to go to Sweden already in April or May. Would it be possible for me to help you on the farm?

Margareta Håkansson, Washington DC

The other day I met an old friend from Sweden here in DC. Just out of curiosity he wanted to know where in Washington he could buy an illegal revolver. As a journalist I should know everything. I suggested U Street. Was that right?

Facts about Washington DC

• Washington DC is the capital of the United States. It is located on the Potomac River between the states of Maryland and Virginia.

• The city had 658 893 inhabitants in 2014.

• There are a number of universities in Washington DC, such as American University, Georgetown University, Howard University, George Washington University, Trinity Washington University, and University of Columbia. Together they have about 90,000 students.

• The manufacturing industry has never been strong in Washington DC. Only about three percent of the jobs in the area are in the manufacturing industry. About 20 percent in the city are public employees.

• There are 176 embassies in Washington.

Read more at www.washingtondc.com

A well known building