Family Trip To Norway 1966

From Otto's autobiography:

It was now time to think of a trip for the four of us (my father Otto, my stepmother, Betty, my brother Mike, and I). Sons of Norway, District 3, had charter flights to Norway. That was perhaps the main reason for me joining the Order.

We saved and borrowed some money. Fortunately, in those days, things were very reasonable in Norway. Before we left the States, I had written the family in Bergen to arrange for a trip for us from Trondheim down the fjords to Bergen. It was a four week trip leaving New York on a Friday and returning four weeks later Sunday evening.

It was an exciting time. Bought suitcases, some if not all, on Green Stamps.

The day of departure arrived. Can't remember the date, but it was early July. Pop Linthicum came to the house and drove us to the RR station. 
 

                                                   Pop Linthicum, my stepmother's father.

Arrived in New York early afternoon. Got a taxi to Kennedy International Airport. Fare $13.00. We got there early, but after a while it was time to board the plane, a DC-8. Members of Sons of Norway District 3 were there to wish us bon voyage.

That's my brother, stepmom, and me(with light khakis) in the center looking at the camera. 

After we were in the air, there there were cocktails and a (late) supper. We had some kids in the seats behind us, kicking and moving. Didn't get much rest. Some things never change. Being a charter flight, there were two bars open all night. No charge. A lot of happy Norwegians.

Landed early Saturday morning at Fornebu (Oslo). It was just great to see Norway and all the red roofs of houses and cottages. At this time I think Mom was happy to be with us.

After landing, we had a few hours before leaving for Bergen. Bought a few postcards and sent one to Pop Linthicum. He got it the next week. Uncle George (Betty's brother in law) said he sat and looked at it for a long time. I don't think he ever expected to see us again (Pop was a skeptic and never believed men landed on the moon).  

Then on to Bergen. A small two prop plane. It was cloudy over the mountains. Couldn't see a thing but clouds against the windows. Some people got sick. After a while the clouds cleared and we saw the skerries and little islands around Flesland airport. 

The whole family was there to greet us: Bestefar (Otto's father), tante (aunt) Ovidia, and Audun (Otto's younger brother) and the kids (Erik, Giske, and Knut). Drove home to Laksevaag. Got a big kick out of the signs at the Esso gas stations: "Put en tiger paa tanken" (Put a tiger in your tank). At Laksevaag the Norwegian flag was flying in the wind. 

Had a big dinner in Andy's (Audun's) kitchen, Giske waiting on the table. After a while we got tired. It had been a long day and night. Karla )(Audun's wife, my tante) had bought new sheets for our bed. By this time it had cleared up and we could see the lights across the bay and Mom said, "Thank you Far for bringing me here."

The next week or so we spent in Bergen: the Fish Market, The cable car to Ulrikken, a tour of the fjords on the "White Lady", and the funicular to Fløyen. Kaare (Otto's youngest brother) was in town and he lent us his car and we drove up to Kvamskogen where Karla was with the kids. Had a nice day there. The boys and their cousins rented a boat and rowed around the lake. Some kids were swimming in the ice water. "It is nice," they said with their blue noses. Karla wanted us to stay, but we went back to town. Fed some goats on the way, they loved American cigarettes (Betty still smoked).  

The next day we went with Kaare to Lonevaag. Drove to Garnes, then the ferry to Haus on Osterøy. Drove up the valley and the church at Gjerstad. Then down to Lonevaag. Bought some rolls and some Coke and had lunch there next to the pier.

This was the place I was conceived during Easter vacation in 1919, up at "Lemmen" in Johan and Thea Kalleklev's house. My grandfather, Mons Andersen, grew up here. The farm was up the hill, it was called Fossen (meaning waterfall). The foundation of the houses were still there when we spent our summers there from about 1925 to 1934. 

We visited Olaf Hatland and family and Asbjørn Natland and his wife Brita. It was at the Natland farm we we stayed the sumers as kids. Asbjørn's mother Emte was turning the hay, Kaare helping her. She was in her eighties at the time. They made us some sandwiches with fenalaar (cured leg of lamb).  Tasted good to an old Norwegian.

 

From there we drove back to Valestrand (Ole Bull had a house there). Ferry to Breistein and back to Bergen. In those days with little car traffic, Kaare's car was the only one on the ferry. We had a delicious dinner at cafe Ulrikken. Two pork chops, potatoes, and vegetables and gravy for about $1.00 each. Inflation hadn't really started yet.

More to come...
  

40 Years Ago

40 years ago I was just  a young guy working as a nursing assistant at the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics and had just moved in with my girlfriend. National unemployment was at least 8% as the economy was coming off a recession and any job was a good one at that point. While there was a lot going on in my little life I remember hearing about a large ship sinking in a storm on Lake Superior. I knew where it was, but had never seen the lake as of then. I don't think I could have imagined living near it in the future as I was too busy living in the now.

Fast forward two years. I had moved to Minneapolis, got a better job, and the girlfriend was gone. I was living with a bunch of guys I had gone to school with and their good friends. We were single, adventurous guys with a few extra bucks to go and play. We often went backpacking and camping and regularly to the North Shore of Lake Superior which I thought was a rugged and beautiful place. Well it is. However, the seasonal changes bring with them some impressive shows of force from Mother Nature.

Back on November 9th of 1975 the Edmund Fitzgerald left the Port of Superior which is right next to the Port of Duluth at the Westernmost point of Lake Superior. If it had been heading for the Atlantic Ocean it would be a trip of 2340 miles (3770km), but it was only headed to Zug Island in the Detroit River. When built the ship it was the largest on the Great Lakes at 729 feet. I believe there are about 13 "thousand footers" now plying the lakes.

There was a nasty storm brewing up the day the Fitz sank, the 10th of November. They were listing and had both radars broken and while the storm was bad there was an additional squall that kicked up at the wrong time. The record winds on this lake are 81 knots and record wave height is 51 feet. It may have been approaching those numbers during the squall that hit the ship, but no one will ever know. She now lies in 535 feet of water in two pieces. The stern half is lying upside down and the bow half right side up nearby.

The best guess is this from The Great Lakes Shipping Museum:
Conflicting theories about the cause of the tragedy remain active today. GLSHS' three expeditions to the wreck revealed that it is likely she "submarined" bow first into an enormous sea, as damage forward is indicative of a powerful, quick force to the superstructure. But what caused the ship to take on water, enough to lose buoyancy and dive to the bottom so quickly, without a single cry for help, cannot be determined.



The Edmund Fitzgerald sank with all 29 crew. They are added to the known 350 shipwrecks and 1000 lives lost on this lake. Those are just the known and recorded ones from more recent history. And that is just this lake. The losses on all the lakes are estimated in the thousands over the course of history.  

What were YOU doing 40 years ago?

Septober, Octember, Nowonder

After three days of wind, rain, and 40 degrees (5C) there is no doubt that summer is over. A little snow mixed in left no doubt. Then there are the days you can go out and walk around the farm and take in all those big and little changes that happen every year about this time. Sometimes the cooler air is so clear you can see all the way across Lake Superior which from here is about 70 miles. If you look due South and real closely at the horizon you will see the Porcupine Mountains of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. It's not much more than a shadow at this distance and we and they are high enough in elevation to get over the curvature of the planet issue.  Click the pic to embiggen.

   Then there are those frosty mornings coming with some regularity at this point. The roof of my car had the mark of the Frost Giants. Maybe the spirit of Ymir himself survived slaying by Odin and left this to remind me. Coming all the way from Jötunheimr just to say "Hei!" Imagine!

I think I'll take a walk in the woods and see what happens.

After a bear did this to my apple tree a few weeks ago I am tempted to find him and wear his hide as would a Berserker would when going into battle. At least I would have threatened him if I had caught him in the act. Unless he was really big and mean, course.

And I know where the hidden people, dwarves, elves, and trolls all live around here, too. In places like this.

They make it look natural so that no one suspects, but I know different. I know where they get their water.

And I know what they will do if you don't appease them. It's not pretty and I dare not take them into consideration when I do things here at the edge of their realm.

I know the dwarves made Freya's necklace and when the time comes I hope she, the leader of the Valkyries, will carry me to Valhalla in her chariot pulled by some very serious cats.

Then I emerge from the forest to the clear air and my mind settles down to the reality of the modern world. I have to ease out of my forest world gently.

I see that my own house is not made of sod and will keep me warm in the coming months. Built from the bounty of the forest, mostly, it will protect me from the elephants and the elements.

Maybe I will inscribe all of this on my very own runestone which is acting like a weather rock now. I can see that it is not winter. Yet.

Snotty Ole (Snaattole'n)

His name was Ole Magnus Zahlquist. He was number six of ten children. They lived on the first floor in number twenty. He was our leader and took the name of Tom Mix when we played cowboys and Indians. The name Snaatt Ole he got from the fact that he always had a running nose, it stayed with him all his life. Spent one extra year in grade school so we became classmates from about the third grade. Seems he always beat me at sports, perhaps he was more aggressive. His father was mostly out of work, but when he had a job, he would come staggering down the street with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, "Come here Ole, you don't belong with that gang." Ole comes back out, "Han var drita full (He was shitty drunk)".

One year we were all invited to Bjørn Paasche's birthday party. He lived in the fourth floor in number 20. Bjørn told us we were going to get creme, apparently very special. We were all sitting around the table and the creme was served. Ole took one spoonful and said, "Fanden steikke saa daarlig det var (The devil fry, what a horrible taste)." Afterwards we would walk around the Christmas tree singing carols. It was the eighth of January and the tree was pretty dry and decorated with live candles. It caught of fire, scared the living daylights out of me. I ran home and never went back to the party.

It was customary in those days (ca.1933) for the seventh grade to go on a class trip/ Since our teacher had married a lady from Stavanger we thought we should go there. We left Bergen at Wednesday at noon time, returning Friday morning. The whole trip cost ten kroner (modern day about $1.25). That included transportation, two man cabins on the return trip and all meals. In the evening of the day we got there we walked around the neighborhood. Went into a bakery to buy some cookies, etc. Ole stuffed his pockets, saying "You are making money now," to the proprietor.

He played football (soccer) and was quite good at it. We soon thereafter moved to Laksevaag and I lost track of him.

The next time I saw him was at the marketplace in Bergen in 1966. We had just returned from a boat trip on the White Lady with Audun's kids He was selling paintings. We both remembered each other. Audun's kids were surprised, "Er det Snaat Ole'n? (Is that Ole Snot?)"

Otto, 2002

Note: Otto told me many short quirky stories about Ole Snot over the years my brother and I were growing up. I expect some of our trials and tribulations reminded him of his own childhood. My brother, stepmother, and I were with him in Bergen in 1966, staying with my uncle Audun and his family in Laksevaag. At that time Otto hadn't seen Ole for about 30 years, but I don't remember the incident. The rest of us were probably just catching up on some rest. We spent six weeks in Norway that summer and I turned fifteen while we were there. It felt like home to me, but it would be nearly thirty years before I could go back.  

The Approaching Disaster

As our culture, such as it is, continues to deteriorate into hate-filled, headline grabbing, rants by people who mostly make shit up I bring you some truly awful news. No, this isn't about a call for more guns by ammosexuals across the country. It's about coffee. Yes, the stuff without which this country would not be able to get started in the morning. The same stuff that enables meetings, negotiations, and breakfast to continue on to their logical conclusions. The problem is a continuation of the ongoing issue of SHRINKAGE!

Remember the five pound can of coffee? Some of you may not be old enough to do that, so I ask you to remember the three pound can. In an effort to slowly deprive us of our "morning heroin" the manufacturers have done it once again. They used to just put a little less in the same can and hope you wouldn't notice the weight change and for the most part this has been successful. They don't realize that some of us have very keen observational abilities. Having been raised by wolves, as my stepmother claimed, I can smell a rat a mile away and my skepticism has kept me safe from harm. Except when it hasn't. See if you notice something different in this picture:

The one on the right was the last can I bought before last week when I bought the one on the left. See the difference? Those of you with a sharp eye may have noticed the can on the left is a bit shorter. The price, however, DID NOT CHANGE! That is effectively a 13% increase in price! Did I get a 13% raise at work to make up for this? Of course not! At some point coffee will be so expensive I will not be able to have any before work and, along with the entire U.S. workforce,  be unable to go to work sending this economy into a tailspin!

I have sent letters to Congress warning of the impending economic collapse, but I am not sure many of the Honorable Members can read as I haven't heard back yet. I sent them detailed photos with a well thought out assessment of the situation so they have had fair warning.

A 3.6 ounce (102 grams) decrease in weight means 30 less cups of final product. Although, I really don't believe for a minute that they can get much more than lightly colored water at that grounds/water ratio.

How long can this go on? I can already hear the early morning screams of my neighbors who are being slowly deprived of their morning java. Unless those are screams of passion, as it may be hard for me to tell the difference, I'm sure at least some of those screams are due to being deprived of caffeine.

Please don't get all judgmental (or any other kind of mental) about my morning choice. I am not wealthy enough to afford the likes of Starbuck's or any custom roasted beans to make my own morning brew. I have to economize and now with huge jumps in cost I may be forced into doing what the dirt poor Icelanders did in the old days by making dilutions with chicory, random grains, carrots, or potato peels. Acorns could be used also, but until the climate changes a little more oak trees don't do well this far north. I am not wealthy enough to horde things for the End Times, but for those of you who are I say this. Forget it! There is nothing you can do against millions of desperate people who want to get YOUR STUFF, so don't bait them with expensive rarities such as coffee and cat food (I'll warn you about cat food shortages at another time).

Heed my warning! I have spent a lot of time thinking about this stuff and researching all the relevant articles google has to offer so I know what I am talking about! Also, I am old so it doesn't matter much to me as I've lived a full life, but you younger folks need to be aware of this horrendous situation and do what ever you have to to ensure the survival of the species. It is up to you!


 

The War Years continued

 Otto, Klara, and Audun c.1928

Soon after the invasion, the Germans took over the area north of our shipyard. It was called "Nordavaagen" and they razed all the houses there. Started to build a submarine base with a lot of Norwegian forced labor joined later by Russian prisoners of war. The Russian camp was right in front of our yard, the fence being about 20 feet away. We figured about a thousand of them. They were a miserable looking bunch. The Germans had a camp next door.

On a clear October day (the 4th) in 1944 about 150 allied bombers came over. They hit almost everything around, including the base, but didn't hurt the bunker at all. That was solid concrete and thick.

Our small community lost about 200 people that day. Worst of all they hit the school and wiped out two classes of boys and their teachers, one who was also our neighbor. We lost our home. Salvaged a few pieces of clothing and small things, but all furniture was lost.

Bestefar went to live with his sister, tante (aunt) Oline, Audun to Karla's family, Kaare to tante Ovidia and I to Karl and Anna Hertzwig.

After a few weeks, bestefar was able to get us an apartment in Store Parkvei (I believe #6), which we shared with my cousin Aslaug, Birger, and their son Helge. It was on the fifth floor and we had the most beautiful view especially to the southern part of town. We lived there until the fall of 1946 when we moved back to Laksevaag.

The War is Over

We were living at Store Parkvei. Kaare was confirmed at Laksevaag kirke (church).  We had a good party for him. We had gotten a tuxedo for him somewhere. He looked just great.

During the Spring we knew that the war would soon be over. Audun was involved and so was I in the underground. He worked with Birger Aarli (Aslaug's husband) and I mostly with Karl Hertzwig.

On May 6th Kalle Hertzwig's neighbor came to recruit us for the "liberation". He talked to Bestefar, not to us. Bestefar told him no. The war was over and there was not much sense running around with a gun over your shoulder. So we didn't become big heroes, but were not killed accidentally by the so called underground, most of whom hadn't done a thing. They had more accidents after the war than from fighting the Germans. A good friend of ours was killed by one of them. We were sitting in a room at school where they lived. One guy was pointing a rifle at him. "Put that away," He told him. "it is not loaded," he told him, "I'll show you". He pulled the trigger and blew his brains out.  

Bestefar, Audun, Otto, Kaare after the war

Hymers Fall Fair and Seasonal Transitions

It's that time of year again when the plants start to change and the sky looks different. There are still a few warm days, but it's dark when I get up in the morning.
Here is a horizontal look at the world. It took a moment to figure out where the horizon was and the clouds weren't.

Click the pics to embiggen.

We made an excursion across the border, deep into Canadian Territory in Northwest Ontario, a whopping 75 miles from home. It feels a lot like home and once you get used to the Canadian version of the English language,   “Coffee Crisp costs about a Loonie, pretty good deal eh?”  and their different looking money it usually goes pretty well. When you leave Hwy 61 doing about 90 (kph) turning toward the crossroad known as South Gillies, you're getting pretty close, eh? You have entered an area of high basaltic cliffs and beautiful agricultural valleys on your way to Hymers where you cross a one lane bridge to get into this teeming metropolis of about 10 or 15 houses.

We got to the fair just after the rabbit judging and we missed the Western horse competition, but got to watch the jumping with some fine horses and the young women riding them.
Note to self: If I am ever a teenage boy again, I need to get into horses at that age. Teenage girls love horses.

  Even at this small fair, now in its 103rd year, there are a lot of things to see and do. there is a nail driving contest, farm animals being shown, the latest in electric vehicles, old time engines, great vegetables, and Canadian women who are unafraid to beat red hot steel into submission. Don't ever piss off a Canadian country girl.

 

Nothing beats a quick international excursion. If you get a chance to go remember your passport. Otherwise they won't let you back in at the border. Staying on the other side would not necessarily be a bad thing, though, once you learn the lingo.

I almost forgot to mention one thing. Republican Governor Scott Walker, candidate for his party's nomination for U.S President, thinks we should build a wall along the U.S. Canadian border.  Maybe he thinks it will keep out the extra vowels.

Meanwhile, back here on the farm, we had some rain to green things up a bit. It didn't stop the ladies from going out for a spin. Remember, no bad weather only bad clothing.

There are colors changing in the woods, but one of my favorite cedars is looking pretty stoic about the whole thing.

Just so you don't think I've been slacking I was intrigued by an estate/garage sale of some folks I knew a little had decided to spend most of the rest of their retirement years in Arizona. The Cooker and Stitch made many rounds of the place and left with armloads of goodies as did I. But there was one thing calling my name and drawing me back the next day. Something so unique, functional, and unusual, that I just couldn't help myself. You see, I may not be the sane and stable person you always thought I was. So I present to you...


wait for it...


drum roll...


The Octocycle!

Don't you think everyone should have one? With a little bit of TLC, a few modifications, and something other than Forest Service green for a base color I think it might be a desirable thing. I know, it looks like the Beverly Hillbillies version of this:

But think of the possibilities! A perfect gift for the person who has everything. Well, maybe not, but a darn good way to spend an afternoon! And it's mine, all mine!