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Homage To Hans Christian, Henrik Nordbrandt, Nadia Christensen, Translator

The Bridge

Now I understand all the statues you had to pose for how hard it's been to sit still, casting shadows

over the lawn, where children like those now clambering on your bronze must have played laughing, in a twitter of birds

while you, shut out from the game, tried desperately to resemble the picture of yourself that made you seem most harmless.

One Of Many, Dagmar Potholm Petersen

The Bridge

On an early spring evening in the year of 1891 a young man stood leaning against the rai I of the steamship Tekla of the Danish Tingvalla Line, his dark hair blowing in the breeze and his blue eyes riveted on the scene before him. He was entirely oblivious to the commotion around him, even to the boisterous calls of his shipmates, "We're there - at last we're there - soon we'll be picking up gold from the streets and licking honey from the trees."

Danes Worldwide Archives Contains Treasures Of Immigrant Life, Marion Marzolf

The Bridge

A typical four-room apartment in an average Danish neighborhood in Aalborg, Denmark, houses an extraordinary treasure for those interested in their Danish roots. It looks like an ordinary apartment from the outisde, but once the door is opened by Curator Inger Bladt, it is clear that housed here are the living memories of many of the 300,000 Danes who left their homeland in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to seek work, land, fortune and fate in foreign countries, mainly the U.S.

"Heinrich Tonnies", Egon P. Bodtker

The Bridge

Heinrich Tonnies has been known to Danish archivists and photo-historians primarily for his topographical views of Aalborg. His pictures made Aalborg the second most photographed city in Denmark in the 19th century. Alexander Alland has ensured Tonnies a place among recorders of social history by the exhibit in Aalborg he arranged in 1975. For this redirection of our attention we in D.A.H.S. and others are indeed thankful.

The Wayfarer, Enok Mortensen, Nanna Mortensen, Translator

The Bridge

He stood on the deck and shivered in the raw morning air. It was beginning to get light but the dawn was veiled in a heavy wet fog. There was no rain but the air itself seemed like one big mass of cold wetness. He couldn't see anything at all but he kept standing there, nevertheless.