I am obsessed with my genealogy research.  I joke with Mom and say that I am going into the time tunnel and that I am competing with Hercule Poirot’s little grey cells.  I am actually thoroughly enjoying the research into my lineage.

I am not a genealogy snob, I do not care if I don’t find any high falutin’ ancestors.  Indeed I am really rather proud that we are “salt of the earth” type people because these are the people who actually make and build a country.  Many of my kin were fishermen and the sea is a cruel mistress.  My great grandparents (the Pedersen side) lost 3 sons to the sea, in 3 separate accidents.  Actually the first boy, Baltzer, didn’t die at sea but he came only with full blown tuberculosis and died quite young.  The other 2 dies at sea and the last son, our lovely great Uncle Peter, fished for quite a long time but finally settled down on land.  But many more of my ancestors went down to Davy’s Locker.

Other kin still worked on the sea, as marines, as merchant marines, as deep sea diver (my Uncle Poul, who raised many sunken ships around the world) and other sea connections.  And while these men were at sea my female ancestors were raising their children, working their gardens (and later the bigger farms), making things to sell and essentially being the heart, soul and additional provider to the family.  You can see that it the existing photos, how much older they looked than their older husbands.  But these women also had something else, they had noble, generous, tolerant and kind hearts.  I have the memoirs of one cousin once removed, Mom’s double first cousin who was 20 years older than her and both knew the grandmothers and had heard stories of their mothers.  And wonderfully, I have also heard from a cousin three times removed from my father’s side who tells of the golden hearts of both my great grandmother and his (they were sisters).  I just feel terribly proud of these women, traits that I see in my mother, my sisters and (blushingly) myself.

Revelations and comparisons of personality, characters, humour, strengths.  I just find it very rewarding and enriching.  And when I finally make a connection up the line, into the 1500’s i am just blown away with excitement.  I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE THIS HOBBY, THIS CHASE . . .

My cup runneth over.

Salt of the Earth

When we use the term “he’s salt of the earth” we usually mean that the person is reliable and worthy (taken in the context of Matthew 5:13) although it can also be used as “being the best and noblest elements of society which is rather different.  I am using it now in the first meaning when I say that my people were Salt of the Earth type people.

In today’s world we may easily be led into undervaluing the characteristics that makeup the best of society.  Those every day people who drive our buses, clear our streets of snow, serve our lunch at our favorite cafeteria and ourselves as we put in our 8 hour day in service “to the man”.  I love the speech in “Meet John Doe” when he describes the work-a-day people through the centuries and they were indeed the salt of the earth. 

We are getting deep into the season of Hollywood appreciating themselves and I just want to remind my readers that the real heroes in the world are the ones who keep it going day in day out.  Farmer Jones in 1650 may never be remembered even by his own kin but if he hadn’t planted his potatoes (or wheat, or barley, or dug out the coal for heat, or fished for cod in the Baltic Sea), if he and others like him hadn’t done their duty, where would society be today?

Think about your great, great grandparents when you go to sleep tonight and maybe even whisper a little thank you for what they went through to provide for their family.  If it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t be here.

Family Day A Legacy

Here in Alberta the second Monday of February is designated a statutory holiday in name of Family.  For many years Albertans did not accept the holiday for what it was meant to be, honouring ones family and staying home with them.  Instead it was just another long weekend but in recent years the various big cities like Edmonton and Calgary have put on a large number of programs on this holiday to encourage families to be with their families.  I think that’s a good thing and I for one am thankful that Premier Getty took this initiative.

In our family there has long been a discussion on whether it was possible to turn back the clock for things such as Sunday shopping and mothers staying home once the children were born.  I can remember when I was 18 years old visiting Denmark for the first time I was simply appalled that all the stores (even the one big department store) closed at noon on Saturdays and did not open again until Monday morning.  The only shop open on Sunday was the bakery because Danes must have their Sunday buns and pastry.  In the mid 1980’s Alberta allowed Sunday shopping across the board and we thought it was great.  Today however we can see the toll Sunday shopping has taken on families as well as on income spending. 

As for women staying home I find this a very slippery slope as it seems unfair to deny women their full potential in education and career if that is what they want.  But there are many women who want neither higher education nor a career but because the societal economy now runs on the theory of a dual income family it is very difficult for families to live on one income.  So everyone is stuck at least from the economic standpoint.

The best solution to having a family life is to consciously make the effort to set boundaries around one’s time such as keeping at least one day on the weekend special for family time and as many nights as reasonable but at least one night as a family night.  I think about how my parents worked things out because even though my mother was a stay at home mom we only had one car so every Saturday morning Dad would drive her to do the weekly grocery shopping.  Then we’d always have a special lunch with fresh bread, open faced sandwiches and lots of talk.  Dad was always home on the weekend and always spent time talking with us kids, playing board games and when we were younger he frequently played rough house games with us. 

Today I hope families really spend time with each other and enjoy good quality time because it’s a memory legacy your children will have forever.

Detective Work as Research

Working on genealogy is labour intensive detective work.  It’s extremely important to have your initial facts correct such as your grandparents’ names, birth dates and even birth place. 

When you are dealing with Danish names once you get beyond 1856 it can become extremely confusing.  In Denmark the use of patronymic surnames was in common use even into the 1870’s so if your great grandfather’s father was Christian Nielsen your grandfather could be named Jacob Christiansen and so on down the line of ancestors.  Therefore it’s vital to have more family detail, such as the names of the grandparents’ siblings, who they married and so forth.  If you don’t have that you are in real trouble. 

Knowing some family stories is also of great help, such as nicknames which may be tied to a location.  Other eccentric naming conventions still in use are adding the wife’s maiden to the surname (sometimes after but usually before the husband’s surname).  Worse still some assumed the wife’s name (rare, but it did happen).  And while the sons were called, for example Jensen, the daughter would be Jensdatter (i.e. daughter).

I have been very lucky in that two of my maternal cousins, once removed, were avid genealogy enthusiasts so I had a great start to my own research.  As well, I adored hearing stories of my family so I had a huge store of facts from my father’s family.  I cannot tell you how excited I was to discover my great grandmother’s true first name when I found her on a census in the Danish Archives (this was before my search in MyHeritage).  I couldn’t have been more excited if I had personally discovered King Tut’s tomb.  Confirming her name took my deep into the 18^th century and currently there are “Discoveries” into the 17^th century but I am hesitating to confirm them without more backup information.

It is a slippery slope to accept a computer program’s “research” without having your own facts and convictions to back up a find.  There’s no use in telling me that I suddenly have a match in Copenhagen when I know all my people are from Vendsyssel (Northern Jutland).  While cousin Verner got his tree all the way to Gorm den Gammle I am pretty sure I only have rough & tumble fishermen and sea captains in my line.

But I will keep an open mind of course!

Walking on Down the Line

I have been pursuing my genealogical line since getting into the MyHeritage site and it has been really exciting to find ancestors further and further back, validated by distant cousins.  As I find new names of 5, 6 or 7^th generation grandparents I feel a deep connection with them.  And then I wonder about their lives, what they were like in personality how many children did they have, and so on.   It’s like personal archeology but with so much less to go on.  All we usually find are church archives that tell of birth, marriage and death.  Reflecting on these ancestors makes me think what a blessing (and a curse) social media can be for future generations to understand their ancestors.  Wouldn’t it be something to discover a great-great grandmother’s diary, or a 7^th great grandfather’s sea log? 

I know for most people these kinds of things don’t seem to mean much to them but since I was a little girl I have always wanted to know more about my family, perhaps because I didn’t have any relatives that lived in this country.  Over Christmas my siblings all turned to me and said “we should be writing down all Mom’s memories”.  That was a figurative “we” of course, they meant I should write down Mom’s memories.

So Mom and I are sitting down to start recording stories that will grow dim unless we document them now.  The first thing Mom says “wouldn’t it be interesting if we could look down on them, into the past, to see what they were doing?”  Which made me wonder if some day we won’t have the technology to capture the past through space travel.  Now wouldn’t that be something?  Wouldn’t you like to see how your grandparents interacted and lived in the 17^th century?  I think it would be just awesome to actually watch them but then, the next you will want to do is talk to them, right?  Slippery slope, my friends, slippery slope!

 

Guest Dog

Since my sister has become a jetsetter we have hosted her dog Dexter for many sleepovers and normally he is not very high maintenance but my mother, being the compassionate person that she is, feels that he should be walked at least 6 times a day and let out for his constitutional whenever he gives her “the look”.  Charlotte told her last night when she dropped off Dexter that he could hold it all night without a problem.  “Just tell him no”, she said and he would go back to bed.

I listened to the instructions but wasn’t terribly concerned since I sleep like one of the dead.  As it happened the information should have come in handy when I woke up at 2:30 in the morning to hear some sort of snuffling noise at Mom’s bedroom door.  Then I thought it must be one of the cats snoring at my feet.  As time went on the snuffling became moaning, then it became whining, and pretty soon there were tiny little yips, then barks coming from the room.  I waited but I couldn’t hear Mom instructing the dog back to bed.  More yips, scratches at the door, desperate barks and I began to wonder how Mom could sleep through the noise.

Suddenly I sat straight up in bed as it occurred to me that Mom might be dead and Dexter was trying to tell me!  I went loudly into her room and found Mom curled under the blanket.  I couldn’t hear her breathing nor could I see her shoulders moving (for breath).  I touched her face and it was coldish but not stone cold.  I spoke out loud “Mom” still nothing.   Then I shook her heavily and she turned around.  The face of terror she wore was such that I thought “good heavens, don’t let her have a heart attack from shock”.  But she was alive.

I told her I would take Dexter for a walk but that I had been worried that she was dead, well, you should have seen her face them.  I hurried out of the room and softly closed the door.

Meanwhile, the cause of both our heart attacks was running around the kitchen smelling this and that, taking a sip of water and let me tell you, he did not look at all like a dog desperate to go pee.  I looked for the leash (oh no, we don’t’ let Dexter out without his leash since he would make a mad dash for the road and from thence, home) but I couldn’t find it in its usual place.  After searching high and low I had to take Dexter back, reluctantly, to Mom’s room.

“Mom, I can’t find his leash”.

“Oh its right here.”  And she starts digging for it by her side of the bed.  Then she got up and took him for his nightly walk. 

I’m happy to report that Mom and Dexter are still sleeping away this morning but I lay awake for another hour laughing every time I thought of Mom’s face when she looked at me.  I am a very naughty daughter.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthdays

My first Christmas Eve in Canada was spent at a neighbour’s home while my parents were at the hospital awaiting the birth of their daughter Jill.  A year later Little Sister died of pneumonia and ever after Christmas has been very difficult for my mother as she always remembers the little daughter that is no longer with us.  For years none of us even knew the birth date of Jill so we had no way of understanding why Mom was a bit of a Grinch at Christmas time.  It wasn’t obvious when we were really little but by the time we older ones were teenagers we were aware of “something”.

Today I would just like to send out a special message to all our loved ones in Heaven.  Gone but never forgotten, we love you.

A midwife in the family

At 10:00 p.m. on November 22^nd my sister got called to her son’s home to take care of her young grandson as her daughter-in-law was going into labour.  By the time Jeanette made it to the home the baby was on his way and my sister was up to the challenge.  With great presence of mind she asked her son to call the ambulance while she assisted Audrey in laying down. Within minutes our little Chester was born, mother was doing well and it only remained for Jeanette to go down to the street to let the paramedics in.  She made the comment that watching TLC certainly paid off.

       It’s taken several days for my sister to come out of the clouds but always her sense of humour remained strong.  The morning after the delivery she told the tale to her various colleagues and then she felt the need to tell the tale to those who missed the first telling.  By way of excusing herself she said “Sorry, but I have to make my rounds”, without even realizing what she had said she was on her way.

       Chatting with me she was still quite thrilled but she admitted ‘birthing a baby was never on my bucket list” which made me laugh.  She certainly handled the situation much better than I would have done as I most certainly would have been faint on the floor.  Emergency situations are definitely not my forte. 

       We are very happy to have our new boy enter our family with such a grand entrance.

A Spoonful of Sugar

Mom was reading over my shoulder yesterday and her next comment on the blog title “what about a spoonful of sugar”?

       Tonight Mom looks really tired, she had been doing all kinds of laundry, housekeeping, handholding and sitting in the sun to the point that she looked very bedraggled.  As she sat there on the sofa I said

“Mom, go to bed early tonight, you look tired.”

“It’s my hair, it drags me down.” And she pulled it up out of her eyes.  I couldn’t help but laugh and then I said “well, stop that now.”

But it is true that a woman never feels her best when her hair looks like a scarecrow’s.  I make it a rule to never look at myself once I’ve got my hair done to my satisfaction.  Do not look in a mirror for the rest of the day because if I don’t look as good as when I left the house I will be destroyed.  I will make bad decisions.  I will get cranky.  I will hang up on people.  So do not look in the mirror. And people, whatever you do, don’t tell me by word, look or deed that I am not looking my best.  I will be devastated! 

And calling all men – whatever you do, don’t be honest with your wife.  At all costs, avoid the subject of hair with your wife.  I know my father tiptoed around the subject as much as possible.  My mother hardly ever got mad, angry or upset, but we were all extremely careful around her when a party was in the offing. 

Hair is a sensitive topic in our house.

Right now I am not in the same room with my mother.  I talked about hair.

My bad.

What About Pepper?

My mother was looking over my shoulder and noticed the title of my blog and her comment was “what about pepper?”  There are moments when she is just like a mischievous little kid, like when she asked “is it gone” and then crossed her eyes in an attempt to check her nose for the blood spot.  Yesterday we had made an agreement that we would walk after supper but both of us forgot about it.  She remembered it as she lay in bed but she could hear me snoring away and thought she would be merciful and let me continue sleeping.  Thank you mother!

       My mother will frequently revert to stories about her youth and once in a while a new one will crop up that I either haven’t heard before or had forgotten about.  The other day she told a story about her sister that I hadn’t heard before.  She said that her father asked which of them was the strongest and got them started being aggressive with each other but my mother knew what he was up to and let her sister win.  She said “I’m not a fighter” which is an understatement!

       Last night her grandson came for a visit and made the comment that his grandmother is the sweetest, kindest person he has ever known.  I’m surprised that Mom didn’t burst into tears, as she is not used to compliments.  We are more of a teasing kind of family, where we trade off insults, such as me calling her “high maintenance” when she asks for the tiniest thing.  I know she knows that I’m kidding her but I supposed it would be nice to give her a kudo once in a while. 

       I gave her the night off; she is watching Coronation Street while I did the dishes and I told her “I hope I remember how” as I haven’t done a dish since she moved in.  And I say this without blushing. Mom takes pride in doing the dishes immediately after a meal even though I tell her once per day is enough, especially when her hands are getting so rough.  I suspect that having them in the hot water must help with her arthritis so I don’t argue too long with her.

       Animals love her and will invariably choose her to mooch off before anyone else in the room.  Today Dexter came over and looked up with those little brown eyes “walk please, walk please, now, now, now” and Mom couldn’t resist despite already having gone for a walk with me.  Out came the leash and Dexter pranced off with her for his afternoon constitutional.  I watched in amusement as Mom tried to keep up with this tiny little Yorkshire terrier.  What a picture, I wondered which was more loyal, the dog or the good wife?

A Bit of Family History

I finally had my family history (as originally set out by my cousin Magda, once removed) retrieved from my old computer.  Magda was my mother’s double first cousin, (two brothers married two sisters).  I’d like to share a bit of my translation of her story, something I have been sweating over for several years:

The ”Rønnest” name does not come from a property or estate, such as the name ”Haaber” (another family name) but rather from a little fishing village south of Bangsbostrand which is mentioned in 1636 together with Fladstrand, and Bangsbostrand.  This village was a very poor place populated mostly with fishermen and farm workers (who did not own their own land).  Much of the population moved away to Flade Sogn (Flade is another county) especially during the Swedish War (circa 1600).  Later when the country chose to standardize surnames and obliterate the use of “datter” (daughter) for the females (e.g., men whose father’s name was Neils used the last name Neilsen while the daughters used the name Neilsdatter) our great grandmother’s family chose the name Rønnest [as did the Abildgaards].

The Rønnests of days gone by were some very hard characters indeed, whose fists were loose and ready to crack the heads at the drop of a hat – they stood firm (and maybe too readily) on their “rights”.  More on this attribute a little later when discussing Ane Kirsten Rønnest (our great-grandmother on Mor’s side).

Many of the homes in Bangsbostrand, Rønnest (and even Læsø) were built from the flotsam of shipwrecks.  Legally the debris was supposed to be turned in to the “beach auction” and could then be legally purchased, but of course many a time it was likely that this debris disappeared in the dark of the night.   In the years between 1700 and 1810 the exostemce of those days, particularly on the coast, was so pathetic that we today cannot begin to fathom the conditions.

Rønnests figured in every single arrears paper that was read up every year in the lord’s roll for owing the King’s taxes and fines for thievery and stealing the shipwrecked goods (foundered wreckage).  It didn’t ease things that the priest (or the church) also wanted his portion of the taxes.  He had rights to wheat (korn), lamb, geese, fish and so forth.  As example, in 1739 Pastor Nicolaj Esbach of Flade had arrears at the district court (Herredstinget).  Most of the fishermen owed for 7-8 years between 30,000 and 40,000 fish.  He got his rights in the court but it is uncertain that he ever actually received the taxes from the fishermen.

There was so much poverty in those times with no help from government or church and so families assisted each other with the children when they were orphaned.  Fishermen and sailors remarried quickly because they couldn’t go fishing and also care for their children.  In 1800 the conditions were still hard for our forefathers, the Rønnests and Haabers that fished, and ditto for our Læsø family.

Up a Tree

I just read a hilarious article in the latest O magazine wherein Leslie Larson becomes addicted to Ancestry.com.  While I laughed I was yet grim as I recognized the signs in myself while plowing through the Danish State Archives and the Danish Demographic Database.  Anyone with a hint of the Genealogy Whisperer in them will know the signs of a DNA addict.  Just saying the words “my grandparent” can be a warning sign and a sure clue is “my great grandmother”.  At that point, you are done for.

       There is something exciting about recognizing a family name in a database and I will never forget the first thrill of recognizing the siblings of my grandfather. Yes, yes, yes, now I am on to them.  Imagine the discovery of my long lost great grandmother’s name (Caroline Sofie).  I broke into a sweat when I saw Tante Olga’s extended name (Olga Julie Elisabeth) and Tante Katinka (Katinka Maria).  I vibrated when I found Kathinka on the ship Indirekte’s manifest leaving Aalborg for St. Paul in 1904.  Could that be our Katinka?  This said she was unmarried so it may be doubtful as my information was that she was already married when she departed for America.  Hmmm  But how many Katinka’s could there be with our last name heading off from our home city to St. Paul, Minnesota in the close timeframe.  Surely none.  Family history must be erroneous . . . told to young people who didn’t have the facts straight?

                   Yes, a whole thread of the fabric of family history may be undone by digging into something without confirmation.  And there is the temptation to fly down the wrong path because the attractiveness of a more glamorous ancestor awaits down path A when all true evidence points to path B.  At the end of the day, I am a realist and I want the true facts, ma’am, the true facts.  And so I still pursue the hidden path, determined to find that great, great grandfather, the Colonel.

       Happy hunting.

Mom Makes Me Laugh

A few weeks ago my mother told me a story about her father that I had never heard before.  He wasn’t much for going to church even when he was young but one day he reluctantly attended.  He was sitting in the pew when some people wanted to get past him so as he rose up he lifted the whole bench up with him knocking some ladies off their seats.  Then he muttered under his breath “I thought I was in the theatre” which made me laugh so hard as I pictured him saying this (in Danish, with a few sprinkled curse words).  He was more accustomed to being in a theatre than in a church!  Then last night Mom let out the same exclamation as she tipped back her chair to watch the show.  We both cracked up laughing. 

      I am so enjoying having my mother live with me, not just for the fabulous perks of home cooking and housecleaning, but because little stories come out at unexpected times.  Of course there are lots of anecdotes that I’ve heard before but every once in a while a fresh story comes out that I never knew before (or couldn’t remember).  This is where the tape recorder and video camera should come in handy but it’s like when your critter does some amazing stunt – the equipment is never there when you need it!  As we become more mature (not to say Older) we savour anecdotes much more than when we were youngsters.  It’s also easier to see where all our personal quirks come from when we hear how our grandmother or great grandfather conducted themselves in a certain situation.  I particularly like the story about my great grandmother who was fond of stating quite firmly that she stood on her rights, whether she had them or not.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the Tree!

Twins

For the next 5 days I am twins with my sister, so suitable for two Geminis, don't you think?

It's hard to believe that she is a grandmother because she is full of fun and frolic!

I'm wishing her a great day - and anticipating an annual update on her blog (hint, hint).

A Life of Adventure

No one can say that I lead a boring life.  If they did I would be shocked.  Let’s take this week for instance.  I get a mysterious delivery on Valentine’s Day that has yet to be solved and now, this morning, I tried to open my back door and it was stuck.  After struggling, while Cherie was crossing his legs to keep from peeing on the floor, I managed to get a great big bag off the door handle. 

       Hmmm, well I did hear some tapping on my window last night just as I was getting out of my bath but by the time I had my robe on and puttered down to the other end of the house a great big vehicle was pulling out of the driveway, unrecognized by me.  So I pull out the stuff from the bag and I am even more puzzled.  There is something addressed to me that obviously came from my mailbox.  There is a book with a girlfriend’s name on it – how did she get my mail?  And then there is a celebrity bio (Meredith Baxter) with no name in it.  I think for a while as this last seems to indicate Charlotte.  But I had already picked up my parcel, did the post office give her a second, unknown parcel which she picked up a day late?  Then how did she get Carol’s book?  Oh yes, we had lunch last month and Carol must have lent it to her while I was in the washroom

       That’s my detective training coming in to play.  I had just done 2 “hard” Sudoku so my brain must have been peaking (stop laughing).  There is a reason why I was puzzled for longer than 30 seconds.  Normally my sister would hammer (not tap) at my window and she would be yelling “HEY, anyone home” at the top of her lungs!  Hence the puzzlement.  She was being genteel.  Remember The Nanny, when she was trying to be demure.  Yes, some things just do not fit the pattern.

       One thing my family is strong on – a sense of humour.  I will be chuckling all day at Char’s sense of demureness last night.  She threw me off balance.

I'm going to have to get a doorbell.

Just Call Her Cannon

That would be my mother.  My mother has read a lot of detective stories and watched every known detective show produced.  In the old days she was particularly fond of Mannix which I thought was absurd because in every episode Mannix always got knocked out at least once.  Then along came the rotating NBC Mystery movies featuring Colombo, McLeod and McMillan & Wife and the other series of hard nosed detectives like Cannon.  Now we were getting serious missions.

My mother could detect a lie at 50 paces; she could hear the rattle of a cookie bag from 100 yards; and she could walk like a Mohican, silent as the grave.  We could not get away with anything for long; snooping for Christmas presents, sneaking a cookie, lighting a match in the basement.  We were caught by the invincible one, our mother.  As children it was terribly annoying and it became our task to foil her in our mischief.  We practiced our own stealth movements; we found secret hiding spots in order to evade her and yet, in the end we were caught.

Years went by, the younger members of the family had it easy since we taught them the moves and Mom was slowing down.  Pretty soon we thought Mom was getting old. 

We were wrong, she now had bigger fish to fry.  We moved to the big, big city (that would be Calgary) and there was nefarious doings out on the streets.  My mother was up to the challenge.  Did I mention she had eyes like a hawk?  She could read a newspaper from across the room, and I’m talking fine print like in the Wanted Ads.  She had incredible night vision and this is where the story gets hot.

Yes, it was a hot night in Calgary, steam was smoking off the asphalt and it was impossible to fall asleep on this July night.  Mom got up to open the window a little wider and what did she see?  Activity 7 houses down that looked odd to her.  She stood there and watched not able to see precisely what was happening but she was able to identify the culprits because she watched them return to their houses.

The next day Mom saw the neighbour walking around his car and as he happened to be the father of Charlotte’s best friend Mom told Char to tell him that if there was anything wrong with the car she knew who did it.  Later that afternoon there was a knock on our door.  Two officers came to get my mother’s evidence.

That was her first interaction with a police officer but it was not her last.  A few months later the neighbourhood convenience store was robbed but not before he had been spotted running down the back alleys.  Who did the police call but my mother, to see if she had seen anyone suspicious in the neighbourhood.

That’s when we started calling her Cannon!

Children Are Still Children

The other day my nephew asked my mother “who was the best looking baby ever?” I piped up before my mother could say anything “me of course”.  Well, Christopher was not accepting that answer and kept pressing my mother.  Since she had three of her children sitting at the table looking anxiously at her she said “all my kids were the best looking babies” which pleased us but made her 2 grandchildren laugh.

            When my parents started going to the Burns’ Christmas parties Jeanette and I would watch my mother get dressed.  She’d fuss quite a long time over her hair (God forbid that she ever go anywhere without perfect hair) and then she would put on the dress that she had made for the occasion (my mother was a fantastic seamstress) and finally she would put on her best jewellery, all Danish gold, of course.  I would then take a picture of my parents before they headed off to their annual night out.

            The next day we would get a recount of what happened at the party, how many people got drunk (everyone but my parents, of course) and who was the best looking couple there (my parents of course).  Well, my parents were an extraordinarily good looking couple, no doubt about that, but we always used to chuckle behind their backs about that comment.  Then when I was 18 I went off to Denmark to visit my family for several months.  When my mother’s father would take me around to visit that side of the family he would push me forward and boast “she looks like me and my family” the implication being that we were all next door to Elizabeth Taylor in beauty.  When I finally got home again I told my parents “now I know where you get it from.  Morfar sure isn’t shy about bragging on good looks”.

            The funny thing is that both my married sisters and my married brother would come from whatever function they had been at and say the exact same thing.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Third generation is not lagging behind in that department.  “We were the best looking couple there” has been known to fall from other lips . . .

            Modest?  And you had to ask . . . . what does this have to do with philosophy?  Humour as medicine is a philosophy, and it helps make you live longer when you can laugh at yourself.

Happy Mother's Day

All over the world it’s the special day for mothers. When we were kids we’d get up extra early to prepare breakfast in bed for my mom and dad. We’d put the coffee pot on the stove, prepare the instant coffee and then spread butter on the bread, add jam on one, cheese on another, ham on a third. Dad always had to have a glass of milk on the side. We’d carry the plates and cups into their bedroom and call “surprise” even though they had no doubt heard us arguing about who was going to do what. The coffee was always horrible and Mom would have to get up to go make a proper cup for them but they’d eat the sandwiches and enjoy the visit from us. Frequently we would simply make some nice pictures for Mom as her gift because we had no money.

Later on when I did have an allowance and some babysitting money I would buy Evening in Paris perfume (remember that?) and a card that all of us kids would sign. My mother has always been a very practical and down to earth woman so when I was older and working she would prefer that we buy potted roses so she could put them in the garden. When we lived in Kitchener she had an outstanding rose garden and lots of the bushes came from Mother’s Day gifts. This year I bought Mom some huge ceramic containers so she can have a container garden on her back deck. It would just be nice if our weather would cooperate so we could actually start planting in them!

I’ve written quite a number of blogs about my mother but in case you missed it I think I got the best mother in the world. When you come in to her house she is always so welcoming and can never do enough as a hostess. Let’s face it, she spoils me with my special requests. If I ask her “can you make your famous ski-kloser (cinnamon buns)” I will be out there in a couple of hours and smell that delicious just baked smell of cinnamon, yeast and chocolate. If it’s a particularly miserable day and I go out there she will make her special ‘upcooked’ hot chocolate with whipped cream (if it happens to be handy). If I whine a little, or if she wants to bribe me, she will make her clear soup with 2 kinds of boller (meatballs and dumplings).

My mother is 77 years old and I have only once in all my 57 years heard her say an unkind thing about someone and that was so bad. What she said was “she is not a very nice person”. That’s how kind my mother is about people. She doesn’t like to hear gossip and she definitely doesn’t partake in it. She doesn’t like to hear it when one of us complains about another sibling and she doesn’t repeat any of it. My mother just wants peace and accord within the family (and around the world if she could have it!). I was probably her most difficult child during my teen years. My sisters didn’t have the same feeling of being hated by her that I had (all completely ridiculous and shows what a royal pain I was) and my brothers all loved her to bits. I grew out of that as soon as I graduated from high school (and in fact slightly before that when she started supporting me in my move to liberate myself from my dad’s over protectiveness).

Maybe I’ve put my mother on a pedestal but I think she deserves it. She’s raised 6 kids who think the world of her so she definitely did everything right in the long run. Peter, just get over the incident of the brussels sprout sandwiches. John, forget the knickerbockers in grade 3. Lotte, forget the slinging elastics on the ears. Nette, forget the long hours at the supper table when she served up something weird. Erik, well Erik, you don’t have to get over anything because you got spoiled more than anyone else. We all remember how you always got drawing paper when she went shopping – and it wasn’t even your birthday. And Sanne, just make sure you spoil her to death today!

So how do you feel about your mother?

This is me with my Mom at my niece Brittany's graduation. She was recovering from cataract surgery.