A little about Otto

It has been 10 years since the old man died and I still miss him. Although I resented him for leaving me an orphan I do my best to understand. He was always there for me and then, all of a sudden, he wasn't. Fortunately, my brother was with me so I didn't have an overwhelming feeling of being alone.

We rarely argued, but once in a while we would. At least he would listen to me even if he thought I was wrong. My opinion had some value and he always seemed to take the time to listen.

Here he was on a relaxing weekend at the beach. He must have finished the cottage because he didn't take gobs of leisure time to do nothing. That's my brother absorbing sunlight on the blanket in about 1964.

He came from nothing and did pretty well in life. He was smart and industrious, but always kind and considerate. Once in a while he would run out of patience, but not very often. He was a textile chemist at DuPont and a dye expert. At the time of his retirement he supervised about 200 people in the laboratory.

He would get back to Norway (and occasionally Iceland and Denmark) to visit family every few years. Both his younger brothers died before he did and one while he was visiting. He kept going back to visit their families and some of his old friends and more distant relatives, but after his brothers were gone he was always a bit sad. He was a terrific correspondent and always sent birthday cards and letters to just about everyone he knew. After I left home for college I usually got at least a letter a week and never went more than two weeks without one for the rest of his life.
Here he is in Norway after going out fishing with his youngest brother.

The big one is a cod.

Here's one from Thanksgiving about 1963 or so.

He didn't do all the cooking, but he did a lot of it. He made the usual American fare, but I looked forward to the special Norwegian foods he would make.  One of my favorites was raspeballer which is a potato dumpling and goes by many other names. He baked Christmas cookies annually and would always send me some packed in a coffee can. I would eat those and get lost in a childhood dream-state. Then there were the Norwegian pancakes which are basically crepes. It is what you put in or on them that customizes them to your taste. They were one of the last things he made for me.

My cravings for goat cheese, pickled herring, sardines, flatbread, and cardamom cookies continue to this day. At least my local grocery store carries most of that.

Although he played French Horn in bands as a young man he was also a good singer and often sang in church choirs. He always encouraged my brother and I in our musical endeavors. I played trombone in the school bands for about six years but the band conductor was such an asshole that I gave it up. I wanted to try guitar and he bought me a cheap one from Sears just to test the waters.  I liked to try rock and roll and started playing by ear until I could play along with a few things on radio. Although, like most parents, he occasionally said, "How can you listen to that crap?"  The Sears guitar was a piece of shit, but gave me a start. It fell apart after a couple of years and in 1966 he bought me a Framus twelve string that I still play fifty years later. I think I'll grab a beer from the fridge and go play it for a while.

Thanks Otto. You were everything I could have wanted in a father.