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Neighbors
- University of Wisconsin Press
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NEIGHBORS [54.243.2.41] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 11:33 GMT) 1fT IS HARD TO beat the Scandinavians for hospitality. Not only IIdid the young folks have parties, but the old folks, too. They used any old excuse for a party. When there was work attached, it was called a bee, and there were many of these-plowing bees, husking bees, quilting bees. After these affairs, in the evening, the young folks would dance and have a big time. Of course, it was not a right good time until they had had a few drinks. Just enough to make them feel good, as they worded it, but with some it would be a little more. The newcomers were the ones who had the biggest time of all. They were so very lonesome for the old homeland, that when they could get together with friends from their same town in Norway, they were almost beside themselves with joy. It took them years to get used to the new style in America, and this group of old friends from home was their salvation. One of the last of our folks to come over was John Boe, a greatnephew of Mother's. He made his home with us for quite a while, and how they pumped him about everything over in the old country . He taught parochial school for some time, then got a job in a small village store about nine miles away. The Norwegians, when asked where John Boe was, would reply, "Han staar paa store i Butte des Morts." Translated literally this is: "He stands on a store in Butte des Morts." This phrase used to amuse us children a great deal, because someone of our friends was always "standing on a store" some place. After the proprietor of the store died, John Boe became the owner, and he is still there. He helped refresh my memory about Gaarden Boe. After a number of years, when brother Ole had taken over the farm, my folks felt that they could put up a good barn. Some of the material for it was sawed out of logs from our own swamp, and when all things were gathered, they had a barn-raising bee. It was in the springtime before the men had to go OUt on the fields. Every neighbor for miles around was invited. And believe me, there was food prepared for such a crowd, and the women all helped prepare it. They had killed a calf for the occasion. Hundreds of doughnuts, cookies, cakes, and pies had been baked beforehand. Dozens of loaves of bread were ready; a bushel of potatoes had to be peeled. Long plank tables were set up on the lawn, and a 101 washboiler full of steaming hot coffee was set out, with all the other food. The dinner was a jolly affair, much more like a social gathering than a work day. Laughter and gaiety were everywhere; even the dogs were infected, and ran around and around in circles yapping, enjoying each other's company. Children ran about munching on fried cakes, and wondering when their turn would come. And would there be anything left, the way those men were stuffing it in? Women bustled about, serving, and the men laughed and joked with them as they passed heaping dishes of food. Brother Ole had bought kegs of beer, as was the custom, and the day got merrier and merrier. By night the main part of the barn was finished, and we were mighty proud that when the June hay crop was ready, we had a fine new red bam to put it in. Somehow, a big bam was evidence that you were over the hump, financially. This bam still stands and is in use, dwarfing the little log house, which even to this day serves as the dwelling house for the farmer who owns the place. During the Christmas holidays, my folks always had a real party. Then everyone would drink the malt beer and homemade wine that Mother had made, and eat of all the good food she had been preparing for weeks. Then they would talk about Norway, and after a while it would get pretty lively. The men would, at least. If the downstairs of our little house got too crowded, the men would take off to the upstairs where they could smoke and drink and play cards in peace. They played mostly euchre and pedro, but I never...