Words Of Wisdom From Olof

["Let Inga Tell You,"  La Jolla Light, published June 22, 2026] 2026

I may be the alleged writer in the family but many people don't know that the real talent in the family is Olof. Despite being a nuclear-physics-trained engineer and former Air Force pilot, Olof has always been a fabulous letter writer. It was, in fact, how we kept in touch for 23 years from the time we spent our senior year in high school in Brazil as exchange students (how we met) until serendipity (and both of our divorces) brought us back together decades later.

One of my regrets is that I don't have many of his letters to me during those two-plus decades. Of course, we were either writing by hand on lined paper or right off the typewriter, always unedited. Both of us liked to find the humor in mundane and often not funny at the time events that were happening in our lives that day. For example, the saga of my first husband's and my attempt to save $125 by acid washing our pool ourselves. (The burn scars are mostly healed.) Olof regularly regaled me with Air Force moments gone awry. My column is basically letters to a wider audience.

But in the decades we've been together since our divorces, I fortunately saved favorite documents of Olof s creation, including all the contracts he had for Nintendo game loans (at interest!) with my younger son, Henry. (Neither my ex nor I thought Henry was a good credit risk.) Henry, even at eight, was clear that this money would be paid back, and his allowance never had to be garnished (a term of the contract) a single time. Not surprisingly, Henry wrote his essay for MBA programs on learning business ethics from Olof.

Over the years, I've jotted down favorite Olof-isms. On being asked on Thursday mornings if he was likely to be working that weekend, he'd reply, "Probably. Thursday is Crisis Discovery Day."  After rescuing a project threatening to implode, he'd note, "I think we got the shiny side back up."   Pulling into the driveway after an excursion, he was fond of cheerily announcing, "Cheated death again!" 

On his aggregate of four years in Saudi Arabia, the ever-optimistic Olof opined: "It's only a desert if you think of it that way.  I prefer to think of it as a very large beach, with surf breaking on both sides."

When asked how he was able to successfully fix an item that had been considered irretrievably broken, he is likely to smile and reply, "just a mindless application of force."

Always asked for technical support from family and friends, he often can't help adding personal commentary. Explaining a new mouse to my sister some years ago, he wrote: "This is an optical, versus mechanical, mouse. Optical mice have no balls. Comparisons to the Democratic leadership in Congress are gratuitous."

Describing something as really inconsequential, he will reference the testicular attributes of rodents: "It's mouse nuts when you look at it."

I had twelve really lean (destitute?) years between marriages. Commenting on both my housekeeping skills and the kids'  assessment that they'd grown up poor, Olof couldn't help opining to my son Henry, "You didn't grow up in poverty. But you did grow up in squalor."

He's now adored by the five grandchildren whom he affectionately referred to in their early years alternately as "the plague carriers"  and "the destroyers of peace."  In play with our grandsons who had named themselves after various superheroes, Olof dubbed himself Hummingbird Man.

From time to time I get to see his messages in cards we send to the kids. On Henry's birthday one year, Olof noted: "Henry -   It's not hard to get older. It's getting wiser that's hard. With three kids, a busy wife and a demanding job, you've gotten lots of opportunities. Enjoy them. Love, Olof."

Responding to Bastille Day birthday wishes on his July 14 birthday, he noted: "Thanks for the good wishes.  So far my barricades have withstood the assault of time better than those of Louis XVI. But time is the great equalizer."

He was experimenting with cooking one year while I took an evening class. When I returned one night, there was a note taped on the stove hood pointing to a pan below:

"Inga - See what you think about this. Good news: If you don't like it, I can't really remember what I put in it. Bad news: If you do like it - see above."

He recently responded to one of a college roommates with his time-tested "Three-Step Retiree Program :

1. Does it appear that there is some activity upcoming?
2. Could that activity be construed as work?
3. If yes to both of the above: Pay someone else to do it.

So thanks, Olof. You are truly this household's ray of sunshine. And fortunately you don't want to write a column of your own.