A subway encounter in 1990

I have a note in my diary from 1990 that I ran into one of the architects of the Kaknästorn in the Stockholm subway on 31 January. The note doesn’t indicate where we entered the train or who was on the train first. I can only see that we were both on our way to work in the Old Town, and that while we acknowledged one another, I was apparently the first to open a conversation by saying 'hello'. The note adds that the architect was unable to place me immediately, likewise that he seemed relieved when he was able to make a connection to my face, and pose a perfect “cocktail party” question:

“Have you seen the Börjeson girls lately?” The architect had re-membered that I was a friend of the daughters of one of his oldest childhood friends from Örebro, Börje Börjeson, whose oldest daughter, Tina, had bought the little red house next door to mine. Tina had grown up on a nearby broiler chicken farm, and the little red cabin was where her father had once lodged several illegal immigrants to work the farm. She later encouraged me - whom she had met through mutual friends a few years earlier – to purchase the adjacent property when it too was up for sale the next year. Though the miner's residence I bought was much larger, it didn't have the same emotional ties to Tina as the little red house, to where she and her sister had often gone to escape from farm chores and isolation, and where there were several young available foreign men. It didn’t occur to me then that suggesting that I purchase the old miner's residence might be a dubious exercise of the popular Swedish expression “territorial control”*, nor that it could well become the scene of a modern drama.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I have,” I answered the architect, adding “You know that Tina is married to my youngest brother.” I could see how the architect tensed, the way his face flushed as though I had suddenly offered him a piece of a totally different puzzle than the one he was working on.

“No, no she’s not,” he said impulsively, adding: “She married a rich American and moved to the United States.” I don’t think it was just his negation of my statement - and the obvious conviction with which he asserted that Tina had not married my brother - that was so absurd. There was something vulgar and impersonal about the way he pronounced the cliché “rich American” that caused me to react the way I did.

“No, no, she hasn’t, she’s married to my younger brother,” I said, instinctively defending myself from the source of his information as well as from his preferential right to interpret it, and hopefully protecting the integrity of my “poor little brother” at the same time. Who had told the architect about the marriage? Why did that messenger choose to identify the marriage with something like his Jaguar, a vehicle which he had chosen to hide in the woods because it spoiled the view of his own country house. What was it that the messenger had wanted, and had not wanted, the architect to see? Clearly embarrassed and flustered by the situation, the architect seemed relieved that the train was just approaching the Old Town.

“Yaha, well, I’m getting off here, goodbye for now.”

“Yes, well, I’m getting off here too,” I said, continuing to shuffle to the right of the architect as he stepped out of the subway car. I was curious and sensed that I had nothing to lose by pursuing the topic, despite whatever discomfort it may be causing. It seemed to be a perfect opportunity to consume our anxiety by disclosing the hypocrisy. We walked silently side by side until we were out of the station, when he motioned to the right.

“Well, I’m off here…”

“Yes, me too” I interrupted, continuing to keep pace alongside of him on the narrow cobblestoned street, “I have an appointment with a graphic designer on Ferkens Gränd.” I knew that the architect had an office next door to where I was going because I had seen his name many times before on the building. Thus, I could politely prepare him either for a few more minutes of conversation, or the chance to take a detour. He seemed to succumb, however reluctantly, to my company.

“Yes, they were married several years ago, and have a young son now.” I think that both the architect and I sensed the need to begin from the beginning, with the innocence of a child.

To be continued...


* Max Weber’s definition of state, which has long been appropriated by the Swedish foreign ministry (though applicable only to strong states): “unchallenged control of the territory within the defined boundaries under its control, monopolization of the legitimate use of force within the borders of the state, and the reliance upon impersonal rules in the governance of its citizens and subjects” (SIDA 2533n)