Gunnar Sivertsen
Well, I'm Gunnar. I have one child, a daughter, Catherine Lyndon Sivertsen, born August 1972, who lives in Melbourne, Australia, and works as hydro- and environmental geologist for an American firm. I live in a flat in Folkestone, Kent, England. I've retired after 40 years as a clinical psychologist - work that I very much enjoyed (the clinical side, not the administration side). Apart from that, I suppose the most interesting aspect of me is the 'story' about my adoption - the events that led up to it.
Sigen and Doris had one child, Martin, who died from complications of an ear infection. The Germans had been persuaded by the Red Cross to allow Martin free passage out of Norway, so that he could be given penicillin in Sweden or the U.S. And Martin would not be permitted to return to Norway. But Sigen and Doris didn't have the heart to send him away. Maybe they were in denial as how critical Martin's condition was. Also, in late-1941, the military position appeared extremely grim, with the Germans apparently doing very well on the Eastern Front, and also holding their own in North Africa. And Japan had attacked Pearly Harbour. So, it's no wonder my parents-to-be decided against the Red Cross-German offer of free passage for Martin only. And so Martin died and I became his replacement, via adoption. I was very lucky indeed. The orphanage I was placed in, in Drammen, (at the age of 3 months) was apparently 'cold' and regimented; but for some reason the director/matron/manager was very keen for me to be adopted, and when Doris went over to the orphanage to take a look at me, the director would not allow her to meet any other children; nor would she let Doris take a look at the orphanage beyond the front office. In any case, Doris sort of 'fell in love' with me there an then. So, eventually, after a legal struggle, partly because of Sigfred Leonard Sivertsen's ('Sigen's) age - he was 70 - the orphanage agreed to release me in late October 1943, at the age of 15 months. And I've never looked back, of course. I was very, very lucky, with two adoptive parents who could not do enough for me. My only 'regret', if regret it be, is that my escape from the orphanage was a little late, and that I recognise that I have an attachment disorder. The legal wrangling probably postponed my release from the orphanage by several months.
I adopter some of Sigen's interests: polar exploration, ornithology, the sea, and marine biology. But after examen artium, I failed all my first year university subjects, and I suggested to Doris we emigrate to Australia. I could only have made such a ludicrous suggestion because of my attachment disorder, because I was leaving good friends behind. But I came to like Australians, and I returned to university in Melbourne, and in 1970 I started my career as a psychologist.
What would I like to be remembered by? That I've tried to do my best by Catherine, my daughter, and Mary, my partner. That I love Nature and reading and reflecting. Like Sigen, I like reading - books, articles. My favourite authors remain Camus and Antoine de St.-Exupery, and I've just finished reading Haruki Murakami's "1Q84" and am now reading Heimito von Doderer's "The Daemons". That I enjoy conversation and discussion, but not beyond 2-3 hours at a time. That I miss the clinical work but do not at all miss getting out of bed early. (Sigen was an early bird - a habit he had adopted from his sailing days before his marriage to his first wife, Therese). Life has dealt me a good hand and that I consider myself, if not blessed, then at least very lucky. I'm here in Kent, in my own little garden, under the blue sky of Spring, with a good book and an open sandwich ('smorrebrod') [both o's with forward strokes]. When I watch the sea I become sad - 'vedmodig' - because I remember Sigen. There is a regressive pull, as psychoanalysts would say. Do I miss Norway? Yes and no. I would never return to live there; but I miss the forest, the frost on the window panes, the icicles from the eves, and the cold moon hanging over the road as we made our way to school. And I miss the seriousness of the Norwegian temper - the solemnity, the gravity, the nuanced sentimentality. That's maybe why Xavier Herbert appeals. I am a dreamer. More so now that I have free time to dream.
Gunnar Sivertsen
Sigen and Doris had one child, Martin, who died from complications of an ear infection. The Germans had been persuaded by the Red Cross to allow Martin free passage out of Norway, so that he could be given penicillin in Sweden or the U.S. And Martin would not be permitted to return to Norway. But Sigen and Doris didn't have the heart to send him away. Maybe they were in denial as how critical Martin's condition was. Also, in late-1941, the military position appeared extremely grim, with the Germans apparently doing very well on the Eastern Front, and also holding their own in North Africa. And Japan had attacked Pearly Harbour. So, it's no wonder my parents-to-be decided against the Red Cross-German offer of free passage for Martin only. And so Martin died and I became his replacement, via adoption. I was very lucky indeed. The orphanage I was placed in, in Drammen, (at the age of 3 months) was apparently 'cold' and regimented; but for some reason the director/matron/manager was very keen for me to be adopted, and when Doris went over to the orphanage to take a look at me, the director would not allow her to meet any other children; nor would she let Doris take a look at the orphanage beyond the front office. In any case, Doris sort of 'fell in love' with me there an then. So, eventually, after a legal struggle, partly because of Sigfred Leonard Sivertsen's ('Sigen's) age - he was 70 - the orphanage agreed to release me in late October 1943, at the age of 15 months. And I've never looked back, of course. I was very, very lucky, with two adoptive parents who could not do enough for me. My only 'regret', if regret it be, is that my escape from the orphanage was a little late, and that I recognise that I have an attachment disorder. The legal wrangling probably postponed my release from the orphanage by several months.
I adopter some of Sigen's interests: polar exploration, ornithology, the sea, and marine biology. But after examen artium, I failed all my first year university subjects, and I suggested to Doris we emigrate to Australia. I could only have made such a ludicrous suggestion because of my attachment disorder, because I was leaving good friends behind. But I came to like Australians, and I returned to university in Melbourne, and in 1970 I started my career as a psychologist.
What would I like to be remembered by? That I've tried to do my best by Catherine, my daughter, and Mary, my partner. That I love Nature and reading and reflecting. Like Sigen, I like reading - books, articles. My favourite authors remain Camus and Antoine de St.-Exupery, and I've just finished reading Haruki Murakami's "1Q84" and am now reading Heimito von Doderer's "The Daemons". That I enjoy conversation and discussion, but not beyond 2-3 hours at a time. That I miss the clinical work but do not at all miss getting out of bed early. (Sigen was an early bird - a habit he had adopted from his sailing days before his marriage to his first wife, Therese). Life has dealt me a good hand and that I consider myself, if not blessed, then at least very lucky. I'm here in Kent, in my own little garden, under the blue sky of Spring, with a good book and an open sandwich ('smorrebrod') [both o's with forward strokes]. When I watch the sea I become sad - 'vedmodig' - because I remember Sigen. There is a regressive pull, as psychoanalysts would say. Do I miss Norway? Yes and no. I would never return to live there; but I miss the forest, the frost on the window panes, the icicles from the eves, and the cold moon hanging over the road as we made our way to school. And I miss the seriousness of the Norwegian temper - the solemnity, the gravity, the nuanced sentimentality. That's maybe why Xavier Herbert appeals. I am a dreamer. More so now that I have free time to dream.
Gunnar Sivertsen
