I was more interested in where my parents came from than where they lived or met. It was he first knowledge knowing people were coming from Norway to see all of us kids and my mother. At that time I had to be about eight-years old and I don't remember much except it was about three men and one lady. They men were all very big with heavy overcoats and wore hats, I think fedora's. The lady also wore a long coat and a knit hat. Then I listened as If I knew what they were talking about. My father stayed in another room most of the time. He never cared for visitors out of his class. I only realized that late in life. The, why he didn't want visitors.
There were moments of people speaking English and I was let in to the kitchen t have coffee cake, struessel, and coffee. My sister wasn't too interested, but she also came in to grab a piece of cake as did my brothers. One brother hung out longer, but he was trying to get the lady to give him money, then my father called him. But I could stay. The lady had a beautiful green ring on, and I learned later it was Jade. Ever since, I've loved Jade, and of course pearls, but Jade is a favorite. She left me wear her ring and stuffed a handkerchief in to make it stay. It was fun being with them. Once in a while one of the men would pick up my chin, say something to my mother and she would nod yes and say yah, yah. After they left my mother said that they thought I looked like her mother a little. The biggest man gave me such a hug and squeeze when he left and told my mother to bring me to Norway when she came over and they would keep me. Oh how I wished. The lady took out the handkerchief and then took the ring back. Years later my aunt Greta gave me a Jade ring, but also many more years later when my belongings were shipped, it was stolen.
Church was very important to me, more like the word Sanctuary, it really was for me and I I grew up, it became more of Sanctuary. My church was filled with Norwegian women. We had great Christmas parties with the Norwegian ladies club. I asked my mother once why she didn't go to them and she said it was for us kids and she could also get a break from the kids. I never did mind that as we also got a break from parents and more. The Norwegian women were so loving in an honest and good way. They didn't want or expect anything in exchange. They never tried to get information out of us and worse. They were just good wholesome people.
I used to watch The Norwegian men with their wives. Such gentlemen. They showed respect and appreciation , spoke t them like they were deserving and it was a great thing for me to watch. I used to think I'd grow up and marry a good Norwegian man and live in the fjords. I didn't really know what fjords were then. But I wanted a big ship and to be able to fish and bake and have Christmas mornings like I heard about. I identify with my Norwegian side.
The Bagpipes and being part Scottish English, well the bagpipes are the best part. I knew my grandfather very well and better as I got older. He seemed to be a nice man, and then as I got older, I found out he had some traits just like my father, traits young girls don't want fathers to have or grandfathers. So I looked further into the Scottish side,looking for things I found on my Norwegian side, decency, and I did find it, but long distance, very long. I searched and found a great uncle and aunt in Scotland, Argylle Scotland and we wrote back and forth for a while. I wanted the Scottish Tartan of the family I met in a letter, but it wasn't to be. They were elderly when I wrote and soon another relative wrote to me of their passing.
Growing up I heard bagpipes first as a teen. Some crazy friend of the family would have a few beers, okay more than a few, put on his kilts and more and grab the pipes and match up the streets and play. We all heard Danny coming before we saw him. I would hear my father talk about how crazy Danny was. No he wasn't crazy, but actually a very good man who lost a son and every Saturday would mourn and play the pipes.
The English side was my father's mother who I never met. I heard she died young, yet my father would never tell us that he even had a mother, just a step mother. One day I decided to look up a name I always heard him ask some man about. It turned out it was his own mother. So she didn't die young, and when my father died, I saw her name on his death certificate. So very little English attachment and some interest in the Scottish side, mainly bagpipes.
But I'll take a Norwegian krum kakke anytime, or fiske ball or those wonderful jelly cookies, you know with the powder on top and jam in the middle? oh yeah! I just had one wish, that I listend more to the Norwegian so one day I could spend a month in Norway and chat away!
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