After I moved my chair for Gerda, I wanted to lean my head on her shoulder when she said “You’re a good boy.” To clarify, I don’t know Gerda, only read it on her volunteer’s name tag. A crowded dining room was the place at Moorhead’s Hjemkomst Center, and we’d come to attend their 41st annual Scandinavian Hjemkomst Festival. After moving to Fargo, we’ve decided to weave our way into a bit of the F-M fabric to attend some activities like this.
It must have been twenty years since last we visited the center, so this day seemed like entering for the first time. The centerpiece of the place is the ship Robert Asp built and completed in 1980 and then captained on a maiden voyage on Lake Superior. Unfortunately an untimely death precluded his presence with the trip when it successfully sailed from Duluth to Bergen, Norway in 1982.
They’ve placed the ship on permanent display in the main hall, but since the festival drew so many vendors and attendees, we walked right by without paying a lot of attention. With a good deal of Scandinavian blood in my veins, it was a no-brainer to first search out the food specialties I craved, primarily rommegrot and lefse. Mary and I shared a big bowl of that Norwegian porridge covered with melted butter and mixed cinnamon-sugar. The lefse tasted pretty good, too.
Reading the schedule, we saw a church service scheduled in the nearby stave church, a beautiful wooden structure standing 72 feet tall. About a thousand years ago, the Norwegian king Olaf ordered Norway to give up pagan ways and convert to Christianity. Consequently, they started erecting stave churches in the 12th and 13th centuries, as many as 1,000 of them. Today, at last count, only twenty-eight remain. Reaching up to heaven with soaring height, not much room was planned in the nave of the church, builders maybe thinking discomfort of crowded congregants made for personal sacrifice.
Vendors at shows like this usually engage with passersby to explain their work, but then they have something to sell. The chip carved Scandinavian ornamentals caught my eye. I hung up my carving tools some years back but sometimes feel a twinge of regret when I see some of the beautiful work turned out by these carvers who showcase pride of their ancestral roots.
At noon the dining area filled with folks wanting a taste of food the way Grandma used to make it. We’d already tasted Norwegian style, and with the Swedish food stand crowded, we headed to the Finnish group and ordered their open-faced ham and cheese sandwich. The cheese was so excellent that I had to find out it was called “havarti.” Icelanders sold their wares right beside where I chose a desert bar called “hjonabandsaeia,” and Mary a fruit-layered cake called “vinarterta.” We cut them in half, shared, and agreed both were good choices.
We spent an easy four hours at the festival and will probably go back another year. On the way out we stopped at the center’s giftshop, thinking it a waste of time with all these vendors gathered in the hallways. But I bought a book totally unrelated to the Hjemkomst affair - Through Chutes and Alleys: A Half Century of the West Fargo Union Stockyards. More about that another time.
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