Letters – Valerie's Voice

A Letter

I was unloading groceries the other day, when my husband brought in the mail. With a quick glance I noticed a gold envelope which was set apart from any bills and advertising, so I took a closer look. Sure enough, it was a hand-written letter from an old friend. I stopped what I was doing and opened the envelope and began reading…it was so fun to receive. Forget the groceries, this was much more important.

I’m not too surprised at my reaction. I don’t get many letters these days and it sure was a fun surprise. She told news of her family, and gave a response to a story I had written. She also included a poem and a haiku… It was great to hear from her.

Getting what has become known as “snail mail” these days is unusual, but a delightful and welcomed gift…if anyone is so inspired…it can make someone’s day.

A Treasure Hunt

I do well with order. I like to keep a tidy house, with a place for everything and everything in its place. However, right now I am living in the “messy middle” as my friend calls it, because I am charged with going through many boxes of my late aunt’s possessions. “I’m going on a treasure hunt,” of sorts.

My aunt Ag & Florence – in 1984 I believe. Most photos lack dates and identification!

My aunt died is 2004, but her long-time friend and housemate lived in the house they owned together since 1968. The house was passed on to Florence when Auntie Ag died. Florence lived another 16 years in that house (after Ag’s death), and Florence died in their home at age 99.

So it was up to Florence’s family to clear out, and clean up, the house. They carefully put all the items that belonged to Aggie in boxes to be given to our family. I was chosen as the point person, so over a dozen hefty boxes were delivered last week, to my doorstep. Each individual box to be sorted, organized, and then distributed.

My house is a mess! I have tablecloths and linens on the dining room table…my grandma’s wedding dress hanging in the office,

my kitchen table and counter tops full of old photos, another room with a table set up and all kinds of Norwegian folk art and other miscellaneous items on top of it. There is a large box of jewelry, and another large box of pictures off the walls, a box of books and a box of Christmas plates…and more boxes in the garage…

So for now, I am going through her stuff, one box at a time, and setting it out for her niece and nephews (my cousins) to pick out what they want from the collections. In my effort to declutter my own things I’m in the mindset to not keep much. I hope I don’t regret it but I think a few mementos, and some photos, will suffice.

That being said, I did succeed in finding a most valuable treasure within the boxes. I opened up an inconspicuous, old, Fanny Farmer candy box and discovered it was full of hand-written letters, from my father to his mother and father, and sister and brothers.

My father sent these letters back home from the army during WWII. I did not know the letters existed, all dated 1942 or 1943. I’ve been reading each one and learning a bit about this man, my father, who died at a young age (55 years old). I was 20.

I enjoyed that some letters were tied up with ribbon.

These letters are precious. They will be kept, read and reread, and cherished.

I set out on a treasure hunt, and found a fortune.

Time Capsule Letters

For those who recognize the acronym Y2K (Year 2 Thousand) I’m sure you recall the overall anxiety as the year 1999 came to a close. Some folks thought the end of the world was coming…at midnight!

Others, myself included, wondered if our computers would handle the change from 1999 to 2000, or would all the computers crash and we’d end up off the grid and lose all our data. These were our fears, of life as we knew it, changing drastically overnight. But we did survive: the computers worked well and changed over to the new century, and the world did not come to an end on that New Year’s Eve.

In those days, we traditionally celebrated NYE with the same family friends; adults and young adults and kids all together. Each year we would celebrate by eating Christmas leftovers and playing games.

On New Year’s Eve, 1999, we came up with the idea of writing time capsule letters. All nine of us wrote a letter without sharing it with the others. We sealed them and put them in the freezer! Where else? It’s a safe place we thought. These letters were to be opened in the year 2010…or on New Year’s Eve of 2009. I don’t remember what our 2010 letters said and I can’t believe I didn’t save them…but after reading our letters out loud to each other we enjoyed it so much we wrote time capsule letters again, to be opened in the year 2020…or the NYE of 2019.

As we visited our friends recently our letters appeared…brought out from a special storage box under the bed. This was an upgrade from the freezer storage system (which had led our youngest son to write on the outside of his sealed envelope….”Special Freezer proof time capsule envelope. Do not thaw until 2020.” Love that humor!)

As we read our letters a few days ago it was very interesting how many predictions came true, and how many amusing thoughts we all had written down. It was fun to read through them to those gathered there.

And yes, we did write more time capsule letters that evening…not to be opened until 2030, or the NYE of 2029.

Fly Me to the Moon

50 years ago today, July 20, 1969, the famous Apollo 11 mission allowed the first man to step on the moon. We all know he was Neil Armstrong who died in 2012 and is not here to help commemorate the anniversary of this historic event. Buzz Aldrin was the 2^nd man to step on the moon, while Michael Collins remained in the command module. There are lots of celebrations being planned for the 50^th anniversary, and many remembrances retold and some revelations of seldom told stories.

One story being that Buzz Aldrin carried communion elements along with him to the moon and asked for a private moment to take communion and read a verse from the gospel of John after they landed on the moon.

From Fact Check – Snoops -This is Buzz’s own account of what happened:

“In the radio blackout, I opened the little plastic packages which contained the bread and the wine. I poured the wine into the chalice our church had given me. In the one-sixth gravity of the moon, the wine slowly curled and gracefully came up the side of the cup. Then I read the Scripture, ‘I am the vine, you are the branches. Whosoever abides in me will bring forth much fruit. Apart from me you can do nothing.’”

I like that story.

And another very little known story from that era… when I was a teenager I sent a letter to Pan Am Airlines asking to be put on their waitlist to go to the moon. And, believe it or not, they wrote back and told me the wait list was full! HA!

I guess I’ve always been adventurous. I wonder if any airline is taking reservations to the moon at this time???

A Precious Letter

Below is a sweet and very precious letter written in 1952 by Johannes Kaldestad to his brothers Torkel (my grandfather) and William who both immigrated from Norway to America. It is filled memories of their mother, Brita Hovland. Brita would be my great-grandmother. I can only hope to leave a legacy like hers.

My Dear Brothers,

Today I write letters with the same content to you, my dear brothers. When I write in this way, it is to remind you that on the 15^th of March it will be 100 years since our mother was born. You don’t remember so much of mother. You, Torkel, were only 7 years and William (Velom) only 5 years when mother died. I was 11 years and seven months, and I have kept many memories of mother from weekends and working days. I can see her in my mind, alive before me, working in the home, sewing clothes, cooking, washing clothes and walking like a sunbeam in and out of the living room.

You probably remember the old kitchen with a little room in each end. She didn’t have much space to move in, but she was satisfied with what she had. She was a mother in the right meaning of the word. Loving, thoughtful, loved the home and her husband and children; with thanks to God for each day she could live her life in service for those she loved so much.

I can see her at the baking table in the out(side) house. One day I helped her with carrying water from the well. Dad stood beside her putting flat bread and lefse in a box to bring to the herring fishing. They were so gentle and good to each other. Soft and gentle words of the fishing luck they expected, and about the children and the home that mother should care for while father was away.

One of the richest memories I have kept was when mother went to the food room and prayed to God for her family and herself. I stood outside the door and listened to her burning prayers.

In the evenings she could find the songbook “Zions Harp” and sing herself into another world. I thought heaven had moved into our living room.

This was a little picture of our mother in working days and weekends. Now she has rested for 60 years in the grave. She died the 3^rd of March, 1892. That was a tough time for father. I can see dad with tears in his eyes the day he came to me and said mother id dying. I couldn’t say a word. It burned in my heart, so I lost all my thought, while the tears were flowing. When I came to myself again I said to father, “If mother dies tonight you must wake me. I will stand by mother’s side when she dies.” That night I slept at my uncle’s and dad came and woke me up, and when I came to her bed she had stopped breathing. I had a talk with mother the day before she died. About this conversation and the time I stood at mother’s bed, I will tell when we meet. It is sacred moments that I never forget as long as I possess a clear thought.

It didn’t seem to be light (easy) for father when mother went away. Five small children left and the first maid we had was Kristin. We also had grandmother to help in the house – without her I don’t know how it would have gone the first year. But God made it so good for us.

After Anna, our stepmother, came into the house, we were all right in many ways. She was kind and capable in all the work of the house. She sewed clothes, washed and repaired, so everything was clean and in good shape at any time, and we had enough food. And she took much care of our sick brother Haktor who walked there helpless for many years before he moved to the Eternal home.

The 14^th November 1953 it will be 100 years since our father was born. I put this inscription on father’s gravestone “A Good Father”, and that expresses my deepest heart feelings of father’s behavior in the home. He was truly a good father.

May God bless the memories of mother and father. And may God help us, and ours, and lift the heritage from our fathers (and mothers) so it can bring light for us and others through this difficult world. Johannes

(This letter was translated to English by my Norwegian cousin’s son. I deleted two paragraphs to shorten the letter.)