When talking with my nephew at his daughter’s funeral service yesterday he mentioned this experience of losing a baby made them remember “his Uncle Craig” and it took me a moment to register that thought…I’m his Aunt Valerie.
Craig was my mother’s second child. Craig Richard was born on October 19, 1951, three years after my older brother and two years before me. He lived for five hours. My mother never talked about that experience. He is buried at Ft. Snelling along side our mother and father.
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 15th 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 3rd 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 14th 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.)
Happy 4th of July!
Once upon a time, back in the 1800’s, Haktor Kaldestad married Brita Hovland. They were my great grandparents who lived in Norway and had five children. Johannes (born in 1878) and Torkel (born in 1887) were two of their five children.
Torkel, my grandfather, married Elizabeth and they had four children. They immigrated to the United States. Herbert, my father, was one of their sons.
In the 1960’s Herbert began working on his ancestry and started making contact with his family in Norway. Herbert traveled to Norway in 1969 to re-connect with them, and it has been a very good thing as our families continue to connect with each other to this day.
Johannes, Torkel’s brother, married Sella and they had five children. They lived in Norway. Hakon was one of their sons (a first cousin to Herb). Hakon had four children: Jomar, Anund, Heine and Siv.
Last week Jomar and his wife Bente, Heine and his wife Kari, flew to Minnesota from Norway for a vacation in the United States, to visit family and travel to the East Coast. We were grateful we were a part of their itinerary. It was a delight to have them stay with us for a couple of nights. It was not the first time they have been here…they have been to our home in Northfield before, and we have been in their homes in Norway.
We had such a good time filled with lots of laughter and joy. Many more good memories were made to add to our collection of great times together.
The one thing I thought of as we were talking about our ancestors is that my great-grandchildren will probably not know my name, or my husband’s name. Without our ancestry chart I would not have known the names of my grandparent’s parents…how fleeting our lives are.
So I hope to make a difference in the lives of my children and grandchildren.
“Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.
Remind me that my days are numbered—
how fleeting my life is.” Psalm 39:4
Today I leave the St. Olaf Campus for the last time as an employee of the college. It’s a little surreal to call myself retired but I look forward to the next season of life.
I became curious as to how old my mother was when she retired so I looked back in our photo albums and found pictures from our family retirement party for her. I have such a different perspective now of that time in her life…she was alone (my dad died right before his retirement in 1974) and my mom lived another 22 years after her retirement.
She was 64 years old when she retired and so am I! Somehow it seems to be another confirmation of this step!
I surprised myself when tears came to my eyes as I walked through St. Olaf campus very early this morning. I thought to myself this is the last commencement weekend I will work. It was such a beautiful morning, and it was so quiet and peaceful as the sun rose to display a gorgeous blue sky which made it apparent the ceremony would be held outdoors – that is always the preferred plan and the one we hope for.
The outdoor location was moved from the Manitou Field (the football field) up to the Campus Green for the first time this year. Mellby Hall was the wonderful backdrop for the party platform. 5,000 chairs were set up for the graduates, faculty, family, friends and guests and jumbo screens were put in place to offer up close views for the folks in the back.
Later in the day, after I cleaned up the registration area (my responsibility over the weekend) and folks found their seats, I walked away just as the faculty and graduates were walking to take their seats for the commencement ceremony. Such pomp and circumstance. What a wonderful tradition. What an exciting time for the students and their families
Just as I started the morning eight hours earlier, I walked away with tears in my eyes and mixed emotions…this was my last Commencement Weekend “on the hill” as I retire next week.
I went to the Minneapolis Children’s Theater production of A Year with Frog and Toad last week. It was a delightful rendition of the stories from the Frog and Toad “I can read” book series. We read the books when my guys were young and these sweet stories of Frog and Toad’s friendship and escapades have come alive on the stage. It was very enjoyable.
Another childhood entertainment, Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus – The Greatest Show on Earth – had its very last performance on Sunday May 21, in New York. Although I didn’t attend the circus much (we took the boys once and I remember going as a little girl) it seems the circus was a very big deal…most people refer to the circus at times and we all seem to understand the lingo… so I “tuned in” to watch the last performance live-stream for a while. Observing the acrobats and contortionists, who are truly athletic, doing their amazing stunts, viewing the animal trainer in the arena with fourteen lions and tigers and getting them to obey his commands, tracking the clowns and their antics all did their job to cheer me up. It’s a little sad to know the greatest show on earth has come to an end of an era.
I’m thinking how happy I am to be a mother and a grandmother. And I’m thinking about my own mother, and mother-in-law, who are no longer with us. And my aunt who never had any of her own children but took on a loving role with her nieces and nephews. And of my grandmother’s…one I never met and the other died when I was very young. I am thinking of special women in my life who were not blood relatives but a mom to me in other ways. I am grateful.
Blessings and honor to all moms and extraordinary women role models today.
T-shirts are a popular item to create and give away for awards or gift items…It’s a practical gift and if you can get the right fit they are fun to wear.
My boys collected a lot of t-shirts over the years. I did not save all the sport ones – they wore them out I suppose – but I did save the t-shirts they collected as an award for their art projects. Both sons had artwork chosen to participate in the local Children’s Art Fair when they were in elementary school. It was an honor. Grandma came and our family went to see their artwork on display.
As I am slowly going through things I found the t-shirts from the art fairs. I showed them to my son and asked if he had any ideas of what I could do with them…one solution is to take a photo for remembrance and then give it away or discard the item/s. I do that with other things. But as he was looking through these special t-shirts he decided a couple of them would fit (they used to wear t-shirts a lot larger back then) so he kept two to wear! It’s so fun!
I am often amazed at the way things work out sometimes.
When our boys were growing up we had a tradition of buying them new Easter shirts to wear to church on Easter Sunday….just like girls getting new a Easter dress I suppose. The shirts would often be the same style but a different color or pattern. That tradition continued into high school (although the shirts no longer matched). Often we would take them to get a picture taken with their new shirts.
One year I made Easter baskets for them. A friend and I were taught how to weave baskets and we would get together after the kids were in bed and to make them. That’s when I could stay up past midnight.
An Easter egg hunt in the house was tradition too, but when the boys were very young we had healthy options like raisins, stickers, and such, instead of candy.
I rarely bought a new Easter outfit for myself. When I was a little girl I don’t remember getting a new dress for Easter but it seems like something my mom would have done. This is the type of question I can no longer ask her or dad since they both have passed away. Therefore, I like recording our own family traditions.