Grandparents – Valerie's Voice

All in the Family

We are moving one mile south of where we currently live. When we moved to Northfield in 1994, we moved into a house on the edge of town, with a cornfield in the backyard. The community grew and houses were built up all around us. Thirty years later we decided it was time to downsize and move into a smaller place. We are having a twin home built one mile south of us, and the backyard is the same cornfield view that was behind us 30 years ago. Only smaller.

So, moving into a smaller, one level space is exciting, but challenging. It is bittersweet to be leaving this beautiful green house on the corner, which I love. We have so many wonderful memories here. We were a happy family in this house. But now it’s time for a change, and to downsize.

In doing so there are many decisions to be made. It was easy to sell some stuff, donate some stuff, toss some stuff, but what about family heirlooms? Thankfully, family members wanted them. I cherish these items, but have no room for them in our new house. That they remain in the family brings me comfort!

My grandma’s desk: When my mother was given this wooden drop-front desk, she painted it. When she handed down the desk to me years later, I stripped off the paint and brought it back to its natural wood beauty (that was many years ago).

My grandmother’s china: My grandma’s beautiful, Noritake china set included more pieces than the average china set. The dishes were given to me by my beloved aunt because she knew I loved dishes. I thought of keeping part of the set, but when I knew it was to stay in the family, I gave it all away.

A military flag: The Department of Veterans Affairs provides a US flag to honor a deceased veteran’s military service. We framed this military flag that was given to my mother at my father’s funeral.

A cedar chest: My mother bought this cedar chest in 1947, the year she and my father were married. It cost $54.95 and included a 2-year moth insurance policy! Imagine that. It’s all recorded on papers inside the sweet-smelling chest.

A Norwegian painting: A 28”X38” print of the famous Bridal Procession on the Hardangerfjord is a framed print that my mother and father brought home from their trip to Norway in 1969. My mother had it hanging in her house for many years. It’s beautiful, but it’s large and we have no place for it.

A roasting pan: My mother made the best roast ever! Of course, when I asked for the recipe, she told me how she made it without any measurements. I tried to recreate it, but never got it right. So, when I brought her roasting pan home after her funeral, I thought roasting in that pan would be the secret…but it was not. My roast never did turn out the way hers did.

It would have been hard to part with these items, but it was much easier to keep them all in the family. I am grateful.

Lakewood Memorial Chapel

It never ceases to amaze me…the chapel at Lakewood Cemetery, on Lake Bde Maka Ska (previously Lake Calhoun). My paternal grandparents, and a beloved aunt, are buried in this picturesque cemetery. That is how I discovered the chapel. I didn’t know about it before I went to the cemetery to see the family graves. Since my discovery, I do visit the chapel occasionally, and often bring friends or out-of-town guests there, if they have not seen the stunning chapel.

The cemetery itself seems like an extra special place. Two Hundred and Fifty acres of mature trees, lush grass, and rolling hills with magnificent tombstones and monuments. I learned on my last visit, the grounds of the cemetery are an accredited arboretum. I would assume my grandparents chose to lie in rest at this cemetery because of its beauty and proximity to a city lake. I know my grandmother loved the water, as do I. And as did Auntie Ag.

The Memorial Chapel was completed in 1910. It is the centerpiece of the cemetery. It is on the National Register of Historic Places, and it is a work of art; an excellent example of Byzantine mosaic art. I’m not sure why more attention isn’t given to this edifice. It is said, if this chapel were in Europe, thousands would visit it.

“The dome is 40 feet high and ringed with 24 stained glass windows, set in copper and serves as a sundial. Twelve angels adorn the door, relating to the Old Testament’s 12 sons of Jacob, 12 tribes of Israel, 12 gates to the Holy City and the 12 disciples of Christ in the New Testament.” There is a lot of symbolism within the artwork, explained in the brochure.

A zoomed-in image of one of twelve angels in the dome…all small mosaic tiles.

The chapel at Lakewood Cemetery is open to the public daily, when not reserved for special events, such as weddings or funerals. When we were there with our son and his family recently, there was a sound check going on so it was closed to the public, however a woman came over to us and said if we kept silent, she would open the doors so we could peak into the chapel to see the magnificent dome, its amazing walls, and its beautiful mosaic.

From the brochure:

"In 1906, Lakewood’s trustees formed a committee to guide the chapel development and solicit design concepts from leading architects.

In 1908 the Lakewood Building committee hired Harry Wild Jones, a prominent Minneapolis architect.

In 1909 the Lakewood Board of Trustees commissioned New York interior designer Charles Lamb to design the interior. He suggested a Byzantine mosaic design based on the interior of the San Marco Cathedral in Venice.

Lamb traveled to Rome to enlist six of Italy’s most accomplished mosaic artists, who had just completed a project at the Vatican. In Venice they created more than 10 million mosaic pieces, from marble, stone and glass fused with gold and silver [for the Lakewood Memorial Chapel].

The tiles, no larger than a fingernail, were attached to gummed cloth and shipped to Minneapolis. The artist themselves arrived in the summer of 1909 and painstakingly assembled the masterpiece inside the chapel."

The chapel was completed in 1910.

“The alcove at the front of the chapel is lined with entwined mosaic olive trees, whose fruit is known for healing properties.”

Today the chapel stands virtually unchanged in appearance from the day it was completed.

One of four large mosaic figures that represent the virtues of Love, Hope, Memory and Faith. They adorn the side walls below the dome. This particular figure is “Hope”.

If I lived close to this impressive – dazzling – spectacular chapel, I’m confident I would find myself visiting more frequently, just sitting inside and being still.

Copper doors and mosaic tiles and lots of detail are in this architectural masterpiece.

Be still and know that I am God.  
Psalm 46:10

Auntie Ag

We called her Auntie Ag. She was my dad’s older sister, Agnes. She was a special aunt…she never married so her nieces and nephews were very important to her, and she treated us well. She pass away in 2004.

Last summer I inherited a couple of her photo albums from the 1930-40’s. I was amazed at what I could glean from perusing the old photos, where few photos had captions, and very few were dated!

I have many good memories of Auntie Ag. I knew her well, particularly in her older years…But when I looked through her photos, I felt I learned a lot more about her as a young woman. I found it interesting that I felt I could capture her essence from the photos. I decided we had a lot of similar traits.

When I found this photo of Auntie Ag, I remembered a dress I wore to a high school winter dance that was similar. I don’t know the date of Ag’s photo. The photo of me was taken in 1969.

I resonated with the photo of my aunt overlooking Lake Superior when she was a young woman. The photo immediately caught my attention when looking through several of her old photo albums.

Auntie Ag on the north shore. Date unknown.

One similarity is our love for Lake Superior and the north shore. It is my happy place. It was fun to see how often the north shore showed up in her photos, and to learn she went there often. I also know that my grandmother, my dad and Agnes’ mother, had a love for the north shore.

Another trait I share with Auntie Ag is she liked to travel. She liked to travel a lot; across the country, and to cozy cabins, and to Norway in later years. I like to travel too.

She was an adventurer…There were photos of her on hikes, on bikes, on horseback, on the water, on a toboggan, and fishing…what fun! I, too, am fond of adventure and new experiences.

You could see from the different photos she liked being with friends, and she had a lot of them. She loved hosting them for breakfasts and dinner parties, as do I.

Agnes’ mother, my grandma, was always well-dressed. I think there are stories of grandma having more than one trunk of clothes when she traveled to Norway. I noticed Aggie was always well-dressed in the photos. I know when she was older, her outfits “matched” and she always wore “matching” jewelry. I am not a fashion bug by any means, but do like to dress nice.

Auntie Ag’s nieces and nephews, photo taken in 1971. I am in the front row, in the red dress.

There were hundreds of photos of our families. I know Aggie loved her extended family. She was a believer and prayed for me (and for her nieces and nephews) all her life…and for that, I am grateful. I too, am a believer, and deeply love and pray for my family.

My Grandfather Torkel and Grandmother Elizabeth in the front row. Again, I’m not sure of the year this photo was taken. Elizabeth died in 1962. The siblings in the back row L to R: Herbert (my father), Agnes, Earl, Bob.

At Home in Norway

This wraps up my series on our trip to Norway. However, other stories may pop up in the future.

In Norway, being close to the sea every day, surrounded by amazing beauty, was an incredible gift.

A scene off the western coast of Norway.

I felt so at home. I felt I belonged.

In Minnesota, my happy place is on the shores of Lake Superior. I felt the same feelings in Norway, as I do when I’m up on the north shore.

I’ve been told my Grandmother Elizabeth loved being up on the north shore too. It reminded her of the homeland she left behind in Norway, when she was a young woman. I like to think about our connection. She died when I was ten years old.

I love my rich Norwegian heritage, and am proud of it!

I am wearing my American cousin’s Norwegian bunad. It represents the Hardangerfjord, the area where my relatives live in Norway. I borrowed this costume to wear to work in 2011, when Norway’s King Harald V visited St. Olaf College.

I was grateful that Gary made so many travel arrangements to make this trip happen. And that he embraced my relatives, and they embraced him.

And, of course, I’m grateful to all my many relatives in Norway for the marvelous and abundant hospitality shown to us.

My heart is full, yet part of it was left behind Norway.

Happenings in Kaldestad, part 2

I haven’t mentioned much about my grandmother’s family.

She grew up in Prestnes, an area next to Kaldestad. And therefore, I have relatives in the area on her side of the family too. Jarle Prestnes is another second cousin – on my grandmother’s side. His grandfather and my grandmother were siblings. We had lunch with Jarle and his wife and one daughter, at their home in Bergen. They also traveled to Kaldestad, to Jarle’s father’s home, and Gary and I went there for an enjoyable dinner with his wife, daughter, and Jarle’s sister (and therefore, my second cousin) and her husband. 😉

Redden Jane, front left and Jarle, head of table, are siblings and my second cousins.

Jarle, my second cousin on my grandmother’s side.

We did not see my grandmother’s home this time however, in 2007 we were able to see Grandma Elizabeth’s house. It is not owned by anyone in the family. In fact, I’m not sure if it is still standing.

My grandmother’s family outside their house, early 1900’s. My grandmother is Elisabet (Elizabeth), the one in the white dress.

The front of my grandmother’s house. Photo taken in 2007.

Before leaving Kaldestad, I want to highlight a new boathouse. Some of the grandchildren built a boathouse across the inlet from the old boathouse. It is twin-peaked, modern, and painted white. The boathouse fits right in on the shoreline and is very attractive.

The new boathouse is the white one between the red and the gold one.

It has space for several boats and currently there is a kayak, a canoe, and a very special treasure…the old wooden row boat that my grandfather’s brother, Johnannes, used for his livelihood, fishing, back in the early 1900’s.

The wooden boat underneath the kayak is the fishing boat my grandfather’s brother used in the early 1900’s.

Our times in this very special place, Kaldestad, was enjoyable, exciting, amazing and memorable! I am grateful.

As we left Kaldestad, my heart was full.

Spring Cleaning

Time for spring cleaning
It is a lot of hard work,
But satisfying.

When it’s done, I’m glad.
But, there is always more to do.
For now, it’s enough.

As spring emerges~
It’s time for new adventures.
Wonder what they’ll be?

As we were spring cleaning last week, I brought down a clown that sits on a high shelf, to dust it off. As I was dusting it, I was transported down memory lane.

This clown was from my mom’s collection. She had quite a fun collection. I wish I had taken a photo of all the different clowns she had at one time. Whenever I see a clown figurine, I think of her. She died in 2009.

I kept one of her clowns. It’s a wonderful clown, with masks that can be put on and off its face. Not only is the clown a nice remembrance of my mother, but also, it evokes fond memories from when we would go visit her when my boys were little. They would always ask grandma if they could change out the masks on that clown. She would say “yes”, and they boys would carefully put on a new mask.

After cleaning up the clown, we put it back up on the shelf, where it stands tall (ready to perform for us I think) until the next time.

Story Time

For me, one positive impact from the pandemic was learning about the communication app Zoom. I’m grateful for the Zoom business to allow me free access to family members across the country, and close to home, during the restrictions of meeting in person.

Grandma enjoys reading the library books.

One result has been a weekly story time over Zoom with my grandchildren who live in Colorado. At each session we; visit, read books, and then sometimes, they read to me. Lately, our oldest granddaughter is attending in-person kindergarten, so it’s just me and Ezra…and Grandpa joins in occasionally.

A favorite memory from when my boys were little was reading to them. And now, I love reading to my grandchildren. I have always enjoyed children’s books, and have several on our bookshelves around the house. One sweet gift a daughter-in-love gave to me, early on in our relationship, was a children’s book. I treasure that thoughtful gift.

During our weekly story time I lay out books and let the kids choose which ones they want me to read. Zoom has yet to cut us off at the free forty minutes deadline…we typically go for an hour so we get to read several books. I love the children’s books I own, but it is always good to find new ones at the library to add to the mix.

I go to the Northfield Library to look for new catchy titles and book covers. At my last visit to the library the children’s librarian, who presents the library’s children’s story time each week (pre-Covid), was there. I asked her for suggestions and she was very helpful. She actually remembered Zoey & Ezra from our weekly visits to her story time when they lived with us. Even now, when the kids come to visit they still want to go to story time at the library. YAY

The interaction I had with the children’s librarian that day was extra special. She told me of a book she really liked about “an overnight at grandmas”. The library copy was checked out so she went and retrieved a copy from her story time materials. When I went to the automatic checkout I noticed the book didn’t have a bar code, so I went and asked her about it and she told me this was her own personal copy and “just return it when you’re done.”

How special is that?

A Color I Remember

I bought this orange art glass piece for my parents in the sixties.

A writing companion and I meet monthly. We assign exercises and come prepared the next month to share our work. One recent exercise was to write about a color, specifically it was: Blank is the color I remember.

I am posting my essay below…with photos. I went back to look for evidence of what I remembered….so I’ve included some pictures that I found.

The slide viewfinder surrounded by a few slides.

There were a couple of slides in the mix and I wondered how I could post them…then I thought to put them in our slide viewfinder and try taking a photo of the image inside the viewer. Much to my surprise it worked fairly well. So here goes…

Blank is the color I remember…

I have always loved color. And I enjoy collecting colored glass. There is evidence I liked it when I was younger too…In our living room I display an orange glass art piece I remember buying for my parent’s anniversary when I was a teenager…at the JCPenney store in Apache Plaza. It was on a glass shelf in the back corner of the store, by an outside door. It’s interesting to think I remember those few details so vividly.

However, what came to mind when I read the assignment “ Blank is the color I remember” I thought of the house I grew up in on McKinley Street in Northeast Minneapolis. My dad built the house and we moved into it in 1953 when I was six-months old. Of course, I don’t remember moving into it, but from when I can remember our house was painted a rose-pink color. How that color was decided I’ll never know, and unfortunately I can’t ask my parents anymore. I do know my mom always loved reds and pinks so I’m sure she had a lot of influence as to the color choice. I remember telling friends, when giving them directions to my house, “it’s the rose color one.”

Our rose colored house in the background. This is a picture from my confirmation. I am standing between my two grandfathers.

The color of our house never bothered me, and I really didn’t take notice if the color was out of place in the neighborhood but I think it must have been, especially when I remember the houses surrounding us in the new neighborhood. I would not choose to paint my house that color today.

Thinking of my rose colored house prompts a memory of the house directly across the street from that house; next door to our good friends the Soderman’s. It belonged to an old man and, as children, we thought is was kind of a scary place. There were tall bushes that lined both sides of his property and he lived alone in this shack; an old, scary, unpainted, one-room house (as I remember it).

The old one-room house in the background. It doesn’t look so scary in the photo. It must be getting ready to be demolished. The bushes on each side of the property have been taken down in this photo. That is me and my childhood friend…apparently going somewhere with large suitcases! This is a photo from the slide viewfinder.

The one-room house was off to one side of the property and a ways back from the street. I think we always subconsciously picked up speed when we walked by it. At one point in time the bushes were removed and the shack was torn down and a new house was built in its place. I wonder what happened to that man? Did he die? Did he move away? I don’t even know his name.

Which prompts me to remember the old play shack my dad and brother built for a playhouse in our own back yard. It was much smaller than our neighbor’s house across the street. It had a big open window (no glass) in front (and one on the side?) and a front door. The roof was slanted and it had a built-in ladder on the back where we could climb to the roof and sit and watch the neighborhood. I don’t remember the color of the shack but it wasn’t refined. I wonder if it was even painted? I wonder if there is a picture of it somewhere?

I found this slide showing the shack in our backyard. It was painted to match the house. This photo was taken from the slide viewfinder. In the foreground is my childhood friend and I sharing a rain coat!

The house of my childhood eventually got re-painted but I don’t know what year. My parents changed the color to gold. That was a little more conventional. With that gold color they also painted the wooden crank-up camper, my dad made…which matched the new 1965 Ford Galaxy my parents owned. It was a big deal getting a brand new car.

Me in the back of our house, painted gold.

The ’65 Ford Galaxy is the car we took (pulling the heavy wooden camper) on a road trip in to Yellowstone National Park. I remember feeding the bears (legit to do back then I guess) and one stood up on the car door with its paws inside the window nearest me (!) and left a scratch mark on the black, interior fabric…hmmm…

The bear through the window at Yellowstone National Park.

The bear in my window at Yellowstone National Park. I can’t believe I took a picture…well maybe I can. HA!

So the phrase “blank is the color I remember” took me on a fun, crazy path down memory lane and I found a few pictures to go along with the story.

The Nineties

I had a delightful visit with my cousin and our 99-year-old aunt. She’s not really our aunt…but she’s been a part of the family since before my cousin or I were born so that makes her an aunt in our eyes.

My cousin picked up some Chow Mein and I brought flowers and we set her table – she still lives in her own home – and we enjoyed a meal together and visited. We had a great time. As I was leaving she asked me if I could mail something for her. She handed me an envelope and said it’s to the Publisher’s Clearing House. She’s been trying to win the jackpot for 47 years! So I dutifully put her letter in the mailbox, smiling all the way.

Her longevity reminded me of my grandfather, Charlie. He was 98 when he died. We would go visit him in the nursing home (he became blind so he had to live in a nursing home). We would bring him his favorite…M&M’s. I remember the nurses telling us M&M’s are not good for him because they spoil his appetite. I thought, he’s 98-years-old, if he wants M&M’s I’m happy to bring him some and let him enjoy them!

Grandpa Charlie and four great-grandchildren.

I wonder what I’ll be like when I’m in my 90’s?