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.

I don’t know the date of this photo of Auntie Ag…perhaps she was in her 20’s or 30’s?

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.

Me, on the north shore, 2022.

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. 

Auntie Ag, all dressed up.

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.

By the sea, and lovin’ it!

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. 

The shores of Lake Superior.

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.

Gary and me.

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.
On the cement dock by the boathouse.

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?
A clown with many faces.


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.

Grandpa reads a book.

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.

Ezra reads/tells a story.

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. 

Read first, then…

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

…show the pictures…

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.”

And visit with Ezra…

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!

Charlie and our firstborn.
Grandpa Charlie and four great-grandchildren.

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