Uff Da! Viking Blood!


Meet Murr Brewster, if you haven’t already.  If she didn’t exist, I’d have had to invent her — except I’m not that clever.  Read — Rejoice!  You have a new addiction just waiting to happen.

When I was the age I should have been reading about spunky girl detectives or Victorian maids, my dad brought home a copy of Njal’s Saga, finally in paperback after a thousand years in vellum. Njal’s was one of several Norse sagas originating in tenth-century Iceland, and I devoured it. I’m not sure why. I might have been trying to locate some sign of gusto in my heritage. I’d already preferred to think of my own origins as leaning to the Norwegian side, although it was not a spicy bunch, my maternal relatives pale and mild-mannered and modest to a fault. I discounted the contribution from my dour Puritan forebears who were brought into the gene pool to introduce blotchiness. But I simply had nothing in the way of ethnicity….  Read more…

Advertisements

Author: Bill

Birder, cat-lover, pilot, poet. Former lounge lizard, pauper, pagan, lifeguard, chauffeur,cop and martial artist, turned pacifist addiction writer. Tries to be a good husband, father and brother, and makes a decent friend. Likes to take pictures. Stumbling down the Middle Path, one day at a time.

Got an opinion? Keep it clean. Don't ask open-ended questions, like "Does the Pope belong to a coven?" Make it pertinent.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s