Chapter 5 - The Second Summer
Written by Anna Huglen Lommen
Translated by Agnes T. Lommen Hammersland in 1959
The second summer we were in America Andrew (Hilda and Sina’s father) worked for Hans Ole Stangeland, who lived where Kapell and later Lester Kipp lives now, and Helge was employed at Nels Tinderholt’s, where I also was.
The following winter Andrew stayed in West Union where he attended public school (English). The rest of us were home all winter.
The next spring father bought land so Helge helped him with the spring seeding. Later Helge helped H.O. Stangeland that summer.
When Andrew was through with school that spring he got employment with the railroad where he stayed until our harvest was ready. Then he had promised to come home and help. We had begun harvesting a couple of days before he came home. No one had time to go and get him, and furthermore, we didn’t know when he was coming either. He left his baggage in West Union and walked home. There was no bridge over the “Turkey” River – there was a boat that was used for crossing; but he found no one who had time to take him. So he decided to wade across where we sometimes had waded across before. It had rained a lot west of here recently so there was much more water than he had supposed, so he had to swim and the current was so swift he barely made it across. Well, he did make it home, but found no one there because we, the whole family, were helping ________ first so he’d bring his binder. We didn’t have a binder yet. Well Andrew went to a neighbor, Engebrit Paulsen. There the wife was home and she knew where we were. She wanted to make a meal for him, but he was too tired to eat. So he finally found us and then mother walked home with him. The next day he also helped in the field tying wheat into bundles. Then we were through with the harvest. Andrew borrowed a horse from Lars Kloster and rode horseback to West Union to get his stuff. It was getting dark when he started for West Union, so it was nearly midnight when he returned home. It was foggy and cold over the river, so he froze terribly and a few days later he came down with a fever (kold feber oeller egeren). He had this miserable cold all fall. Again he went to West Union to attend school that winter. He worked for an M.D. (doctor) for room and board – and this doctor cured him of this sickness.
Walking to Eldorado for Mail
The first year he attended school in West Union he worked for another doctor for his board and room so his education was comparatively cheap then. While Andrew was working on the railroad south of West Union, Mother would hope for a letter from him but he wrote very seldom. Mother (my grandma) would walk to Eldorado and ask for letters. There was no rural delivery those days. My brother Olai sometimes walked with her so he knew the way. So one day he and I were to walk to Eldorado to see about a letter from him. We found Eldorado, but there was no letter. On our return journey we met a girl, the daughter of Hans Fuglebar, and she coaxed us to walk with her. She knew the way. It would be just as short a distance as we had come. So we started out. She wanted company to talk with on her way. After some distance, Olai realized we were going in the wrong direction, so we turned back and ran long distances at the time because we were afraid darkness would fall before we could reach home. Olai was barefooted, and stubble was sharp, but we had to hurry to get home safely and before dark too.
Coasting in the Snow
Andrew, my brother, and Uncle Ole Higrenes hauled wood from a big timber across the Turkey River. They drove down the road across by Ole Kleppe’s. Irvin Johnson now lives there – and across the creek there. Per Lofte lived on that place where Irvin Johnson is now. That hollow we called “Johne fil dalen.” It was not far to our cellar or shack from that road, so Uncle often stopped to see us. One time he came with word – an invitation for me to come home with him and stay a week -- so he stopped for me on their way back. It was getting dark and I rode on the load of wood. I stayed nearly two weeks. The Sunday evening that I was there we went out coasting but they had only one sled and it belonged to Paul. He, like most youngsters, wanted to use it himself most of the time. Then Andrew got the idea that we could use the small “cutter” (a horse-drawn conveyance like a single buggy on runners). They took out the tongue. Then there would be room for the whole flock of us. It worked fine and we coasted far down on the bottom, but it was hard work getting the cutter up the hill that time. I got my dress caught so it had a big rip, but we rode ONE time. When we got in the house and Uncle got to know about my misfortune he promised to stop in at my folks and get patches so Auntie could repair my dress.
The next day the men hauled wood again and Uncle stopped in at my mother’s. He teased me and said, “Mother thought I better come right home and she would fix my dress herself.” However, he did not give up until she got the material to patch with and Aunt Martha fixed the dress in good shape. I stayed until Saturday morning. Then my brother Andrew and Uncle Ole were going to West Union so I could ride along. There was quite a lot of snow and a penetrating cold wind when we came the road past Ole Anfinson’s (Otto Anfinson now). It was traveled more than across by Ole Kleppe, so they wanted to go that road to West Union and I got a ride with a man hauling wood who would drive across where I was to walk. My uncle asked if I could ride. So I sat up on the load of wood! My feet got icy cold so I could scarcely feel where they were. I had no boots; my shoes were warm when I left Uncle’s sleigh and walking through the snow it melted on my shoes so they got wet through, therefore very cold. The man I rode with was Osmund Fundingsland. He lived in a dugout north from where Andrew Kloster’s barn now is (where Ed Molokken is in 1959). I could hardly stand on my feet when I got off the load of wood. He didn’t ask me in to get warm, and I was too bashful to ask to get warm indoors, so I had to go on home, cold as I was. I don’t recall how I felt or whom was at home when I got there.
My aunt sent yarn with me to knit a pair of stockings for Anna. I had a small stocking along for a pattern but my mother thought I should make the new ones longer, so I ran short of yarn but mother got more yarn so I could finish the stockings.
Moving to our Land
When harvest began the first summer after father bought our land, we had to move up there with most of our furniture and belongings. We lived in a small frame house that was later used as a granary. Henry Moen now lives where our place was. We got our cabin (or cellar as she calls it) moved up there later in the fall. We had our cows down at Kloster’s so it was a real job to go and milk and then go to Lars Kloster’s (where Andrew lived – now Lena’s place) and stay overnight. When two of us went, we stayed in our own “kjaelder” and were there ready to milk the next morning. After a few weeks, father rented pasture from Soren Tinderholt from the land that joined ours, that was very much handier. And when we got our “kjaelder” moved up, we felt well equipped and thrifty.
The first winter we kept our potatoes in the basement at Lars Kloster’s. Later my brother Helge and father dug a root cellar where we kept milk and butter during the summer and potatoes and other vegetables during the winter. One year they built a small stone shanty for summer cooking. Nearly every home had a summer kitchen and looked forward to the day that the cook stove could be moved to the summer kitchen. Again in the fall it was just as welcome a day to move the stove back indoors. There was more room indoors during the summer without the stove and the place could be cooler without a fire. That kind of cellar was always built in a hillside which faced the south so one govel faced the hill and the other toward the south so they could have a door entrance on level ground with windows on both sides of the door which would give good lighting – one thought then. During the summer when the door could be left open, the room was real light and pleasant.
The walls were white washed with lime mixture every fall (sanitary too) so they were real white. We had a large cupboard by the east wall that father and Helge built. We used it for food. Beside it to the north was our table. By the north wall were two bedsteads. To the south were the door and two windows. Under one window was a shelf fastened where we washed our dishes. To the west wall we had a shelf with three divisions to keep our clean dishes and north of it was the cook stove. Then there was space large enough for my bed. During the night we shoved it under the large bed. There was space for a couple of chairs or a little more when my bed was shoved aside (under my father and mother’s bed).
In the middle of the cabin was quite a space that was often used for mother’s loom – she wove material for us and for other people for pay (custom work). She did a lot of weaving. My Uncle Higrenes (Anderson) had made a loom for Auntie Kloster and mother was given that one. My father built a shelf under the east window for my plants. The first houseplants I got were given to me by Ingeborg Paulson while we lived on the Kloster land. That was a single (not double) petunia, a (magenta) reddish purple in color and a scarlet verbena. They thrived and bloomed all winter. It was nice and warm, draft free in that kind of house. There was a sod roof on it with boards under, of course. It was fine in the winter. But if it was a rainy summer, there would be spring leaks that were no good. Then mother had to place pans to catch the drips. She would have to get up at night to get things arranged and moved to safety. As far as I recall, the cabin was 16 feet square, so there wasn’t a lot of room, but people were not as demanding and perhaps happier than modern folks. People would never think of living in such quarters now, but we were not used to anything better.
Carrying our Water
We had to carry water a long ways – a quarter of a mile. I remember Father froze both wrists one time he carried water on a terribly cold day. It was a very old winter and that day we had a blizzard. Later Helge and father dug a well. A lot of people had dug wells – nearly every farm had one. Ours was 22 feet deep and very good drinking water. We felt we lived in comfort with water so near at hand. We had no pump but had a rope and a huge bucket to hoist the water up from the well. It was heavy to draw the water, but easier than carrying it 1/4 mile distance.
In Norway we had water handy. To the west was a spring where we took our water (sort of a flowing well, maybe). Someone had dug out a hole that was always full of water. There was a big kettle placed in this hole and around it was a blue clay.
Our land here in America had lots of (grrasten) limestone. Helge built a stone wall in the dug well – from the local stones.