| Re: High C
Yah, vell, deres plen-ty of lut-e-fisk in Du-lut, Minn-e-so-ta.
I remember lutefisk, fatigman bakels, lefsa, etc. from the days when my great-grandmother was alive. I still have the little sea-chest gnawed through in one corner by rats when she and her family immigrated to Minnesota from Oslo by ship in the late 1800's or so. I sat on her lap as a little boy and she told wonderful stories. Like, traveling from New Ulm to Fosston in Minnesota with the wolves trailing behind the ox cart, ready to eat the baby if it fell out--and she was the baby. Or being hid underneath a washtub when the Indians came 'round because everyone knew they would kidnap blond baby girls.
I've always regretted not learning the languages of my forebears: Norwegian and German. The only thing I've regretted more is not keeping up with my trumpet.
smatt "Stefan" |