Missing the Madness

I think that per capita, the U.S. can claim a greater number of "eccentric" people than Norway can. In our little town of 750 in upstate New York (which my mom referred to as Peyton Place), we had more than our fair share. We watched them with amusement and lovingly gave them monikers. Kevin's favorite was "Caveman". He was a very large, very hirsute man who walked along Main St. dressed in short shorts and nothing else. No shirt, no socks, no shoes, but he did carry a big stick wherever he went. I was intrigued by him, but the character that I liked best was "Lawnmower Man." He also dressed only in shorts, but instead of walking down Main St., he drove a riding lawnmower. He always had a beer in hand, and kept the rest of the 6 pack in a basket balanced on the front of his mower. One day, he got himself a little dog, and from then on, the dog would ride in the basket with the beer. The only time I regretted living in a town with such colorful citizens was when we had to put the house on the market. I remember hanging out in the gazebo in the park across the street from our home, watching as prospective buyers toured the house. "Lawnmower Man" lazily circled around the block, and I fervently prayed that the real estate agent would keep the interested parties inside and chatting until the lawnmower had vanished around the corner! Luckily our house sold quickly, and I like to think that "Caveman" and "Lawnmower Man" are still passing by it several times a day.

But here in Norway, I haven't met anyone who was particularly off kilter. The only people who have made me do a double take are the roller skiers. These people are so enthusiastic about cross country skiing that when the snow melts, they cruise the streets on little skis on wheels, poles in hand. The most avid ones even wear their spandex skiing outfits. Obviously, they're no substitute for "Caveman" and "Lawnmower Man", but they do make me giggle.