Years ago I worked for a company that required me to travel once in a while: Dublin CA, Cary NC, Dallas TX, Stockholm ... those kinds of places. (I challenge you to figure out the common denominator.) The last time they sent me to Stockholm was in December of 2001. And it was a magical visit, in many ways.
Stockholm is very far north [citation needed] so during the winter it is frequently dark there. I remember sitting in one meeting after lunch, fighting hard against my severe jet lag to pay attention, and looking out the window. As I looked, I saw the street lights come on because it was getting dark. Oh that's interesting, I thought. I wonder what time it is? I looked at my watch and it was 2:25 pm. By the time I was through with work for the day and left the office -- at 4:00 pm -- it was pitch-black and you could see the Milky Way.
But most of what I remember about that visit involved a colleague named Lilliana.
I had met Lilliana on an earlier visit, when I was staying for several days and she had been delegated to show me around the city. It was a delightful day and we got along beautifully. She was a divorced mother of teenage girls at that point, and I was a married father of very little boys. I was also very stuffy back then about being faithful to Wife (not that Wife ever returned the favor!), besides still being a little clueless about the subtle signals between men and women; so Lilliana and I never did anything compromising together. But she was warm and friendly and we were instantly on the same wavelength; and when I got back home after that first visit my heart beat faster every time I got an email from her. Those emails were all about work, but I still thrilled at them.
So during this visit, in 2001, I had to make sure to see her.
After completing some of my other business, I traveled to the building where she worked. Security let me in, because I could identify myself as an employee in another location (never mind that we were on another continent!). So I made my way to her cubicle without her being notified that I was on my way. When I got there, a couple other colleagues we both knew were there as well, and she had her head buried under her desk trying to dig out some boxes of files. I leaned against the divider wall of the cubicle and wisecracked, "My God, the people they let wander through this building! You'd think Security would be more careful." Lilliana heard my voice and jumped up from what she was doing. She pivoted around and launched herself into my arms. I held her tight and spun 360 degrees in a circle, swinging her feet off the ground before I let her down again. Then we talked for a while and made plans to meet for dinner. She would come by my hotel and we would go out from there.
This all took place on Saint Lucy's Day, ... or Sankta Lucia's Day, as it is called in Sweden. And the customs for that day are very specific. Choirs of girls and young women roam the city in long white dresses, wearing crowns of candles bound on their heads with garlands of holly and singing songs of Saint Lucy. That afternoon a choir entered the office building where I was working with some other colleagues and roamed the halls singing. This was a sign for everyone to stop working and come into the common room to listen ... to listen and eat cookies and drink glögg. (It could never happen in America. No HR department in the country would allow it.)
When Lilliana finally joined me at my hotel, she had forgotten that we were going to eat and so had already eaten at home. Also she had had something to drink, which meant that she'd had to walk to my hotel instead of riding her bicycle. What do you mean? I asked. Well I can't drive a vehicle if I've been drinking, she explained. But a bicycle? I insisted. That's a vehicle, she clarified. Swedish law makes no distinction. OK, got that.
So we walked to a bar and got drinks. And talked, and just enjoyed each other's company. And as we sat there talking, suddenly the lights went out and voices began to sing. It was another choir, walking through the bar singing the Santa Lucia song, and everyone stopped to listen. When they were done they left and the lights came back up.
Lilliana and I talked about all kinds of things that night. I've forgotten most of them, although I remember that partly we discussed the grim business outlook for our company and what we might do if the worst came to pass. I remember that I desperately wanted to take her in my arms, kiss her deeply, and make love all night long, and in fact I did nothing even vaguely close to that. Virtue or cowardice, today I can't tell you which it was. And finally the night came to an end and we went our separate ways.
I never saw her again after that visit, but we connected on LinkedIn. So today (18 years after that magical night) I sent her a quick note through LinkedIn wishing her a happy Sankta Lucia's Day. In a matter of hours, no more than that, she sent me a reply: "Oh wow, YOU REMEMBERED!"
How could I ever forget?
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