My liberal-minded parents strongly believed that children were human beings with a right to learn and be included in all sorts of discussions that concerned adult reality. They also believed in justice and reconciliation. Their heated discussions at dinner were sometimes agonizing for my sister and me, always wanting black to be black and white to be white. Yet they insisted that black also could be white, and they lived as they preached. To our home came a strangely mixed company of judges, police and criminals. I was 6 and my sister 8 when we went to visit Norway's most notorious criminal in his cell; two little girls dressed up in national costumes bringing my mother's home made chocolate cake, a small Christmas tree and books. The man had been sentenced to life in jail by the Norwegian Gestapo police for murder, and my father, knowing that the man indeed was an expert thief, spent years getting him acquitted of the murder. After he had served his sentence for theft, he came to our house and in gratitude insisted on repairing my radio. Alas, the radio was totally ruined, but I still remember him as a person much like Ibsen's Peer Gynt; a good willed liar and cheat who could not resist temptation.
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