Faded White Letters

As we came closer to the homestead in Little Tamarack Valley, a red barn came into view. The faded white letters K.K.J . stood out against the red barn boards. I knew that these were the initials of my great grandfather, Knut K. Jordet.

In 1865, after coming from Norway to America, Knut Jordet and his wife Olia left southeastern Wisconsin and settled on eighty acres of fertile land in west central Wisconsin, in Little Tamarack Valley. On this homestead, my great grandfather Knut K. Jordet was born.

In the front of the house, perched up on the gable of the porch roof, friends and family were greeted with this carving, made by a local woodworker.



Translation:
Knut K. Jordet settled here in the year 1865.
Stands here my house in peace for every envious eye, and to the ground that lets itself be plowed.
Here I eat my bread, Here fear I my God. Blessed is whoever here goes in and out.
Modena 4 December 1896

The year was 1895. Knut K. Jordet and his wife, Gunhild Bjorgo were young newlyweds. They raised seven children here, one of whom was my grandmother Olia, the oldest Jordet daughter. My great-grandfather lived his whole life in Little Tamarack Valley. He worshiped the Lord at Lyster Lutheran Church, just a few miles over the bluff, and in fact, was the first child to be baptized there. He walked this land in Little Tamarack Valley, plowed the soil, and raised his family here. He died on the farm in 1954.



Knut K. and Gunhild Jordet

As we rounded the curve in the patched blacktop road, I couldn’t help but think about my great-grandfather. I wondered if he drove his horses over this road in the cold Wisconsin winter, the sleigh packed with his family as they headed to Sunday worship at Lyster. I wondered what he was like. I wondered what it would have been like to meet him.

Although the buildings at the homestead are still there, visible to anyone passing through, by far the most meaningful to those of us who remain are the faded white letters.

K.K.J.

To most they are just letters. But to me, these letters fill my heart with love for a great-grandfather I never even knew. A man who walked this land. A man who raised a family here. And a man who helps me define my place in this world and who makes me a part of who I am today.


Note: Thank you to my Aunt E. for recording the Jordet family history back in 1978 – where the historical information in this writing comes from.

Food For Thought

My mom was usually in the kitchen when I got off the school bus, sometimes surprising me with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of fresh, cold milk. Sounds cliché, but really, it’s true.

Other days my sister, brother and I raced into the house, threw our coats haphazardly down on the floor, and high-tailed it to the kitchen. Once there, we flung open the pantry door and fought for the box of Rice Krispies on the top shelf. Mom was at the oven, tending to the dinner. The scrumptious smell of roast beef poured out of the oven door, permeating our taste buds.

In either scenario – Mom was there. And my life was comfortable and secure.

Today my daughter beats me home. I surprise her with a phone call, asking her if we need anything from the store on the way home. She usually says, “Milk”.

I arrive a little later. By then Mickey is doing her homework. Or chatting on the computer. I sort the day’s mail – tossing the junk, keeping the rest. Mickey and I have a short chat about today’s events. We go about our business – homework and the ever-present, burning (no pun intended) question of what to make for dinner.

Quite a different scenario, isn’t it?

Thirty-five years ago my mom being there for me when I got home from school was comforting. It made me feel safe and secure.

Our world has changed.

How can I give Mickey that same sense of comfort and security? Or better yet …

What exactly is the comfort and security – the chocolate chip cookies or the fact that we know what to expect when we walk in the kitchen door?

Think about it. Food for thought, if you will.

A Spur-of-the Moment Disaster

Mickey loves superheroes. We had to stand in line for an hour at Universal Studios in Florida four years ago to have her picture taken with Spiderman. She plays the Batman DVD over and over again. And she fell in love with the fireball from The Fantasic Four named Johnny Storm.

So when she asked me to make a spur-of-the moment decision on seeing a movie about superheroes, I simply thought - she will love this.

Until I found out it was rated R. I thought, I suppose there is some violence. Can’t be worse than a C.S.I. episode, could it? I thought, I suppose there could be some bad language. Can’t be worse than what I hear in the halls at school. And after all, Mickey was raised in the real world. But she has also been taught that even though it’s all around us, it’s not right. And she lives by that.

Mickey twisted my arm as we stood in line at the box office. My niece was agreeable to whatever movie we decided on. With hesitation in my voice I said, “ohhh, I don’t know…”

She asked for a synopsis of the plot for me. My niece read aloud as I heard the words Cold War and Soviet Union. I thought, this doesn’t really sound that good.

But Mickey persisted….

So we got our popcorn and found a seat.

An hour into the movie, I kept hoping it would get better. I kept hoping the dark, wet streets of the city would lend their way to sunshine and daytime. But they didn’t.

Two hours later I asked Mickey to text her dad to tell her where we were, so he didn’t wonder.

The blue man (a victim of a radioactive accident in 1961) could make himself twenty feet tall. His blue skin was translucent, giving view to his skeleton beneath. He had a gentle voice. He went to Mars, where it was quiet, to think. And he was naked.

The man with the mask cut the villains’ arms off with a grinder. But it wasn’t very realistic … thankfully.

There were a few humorous punch lines. We laughed.

By eleven p.m. I said to the girls, “Oh my gosh - this has to be almost over, doesn’t it?” We decided we all hated it.

Finally as the credits began to roll, we grabbed our stuff and headed to the parking lot.

There the truth spilled out of my mouth.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this movie. I’m picking the next one!”

And more to my niece – “Your dad will never let me take you to a movie again!”

I would bet that spur-of-the-moment decisions in life almost never turn out to be good things. I guess that’s why our parents try to teach us to think first. So our spur-of-the-moment decisions don’t become disasters.

Guess who couldn’t sleep that night?

Mickey slept fine. My niece slept fine.

I kicked and screamed “help!” in my sleep that night - my husband had to wake me from the train ride I was on. And believe me, I was thankful he did.

BECAUSE SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO GET ME!

Next movie? Rated G, please.

And an after-thought: If you don’t like the movie you are in, just get up and walk out for heaven sakes!

Look To The Left

What is a feed? It could be a cookout. It could be filling the dog dish every morning.

Or not, if you’re talking about the web.

(Oh gosh, not a spider web. The world-wide web. )

What is RSS? It is, and this comes straight out of Wikipedia, an abbreviation for Really Simple Syndication. Further explained in Wikipedia - a family of web feed formats used to publish frequently updated works—such as blog entries, news headlines, audio, and video—in a standardized format.

You can subscribe to this blog by signing up to receive the RSS feed. It’s the little orange square at the top of your browser. But I think that’s kind of complicated. Because then you need Google Reader or some other service to send you the feed.

Enter Feedburner. What in the world is Feedburner? FeedBurner is a web feed management provider.

You’re asking – so what? Where is this going? When is she going to quit talking with all these strange words? Well …

Here is what this is leading up to. If you like reading this blog but get sick of checking it to see if I’ve posted anything new, now you can LOOK TO THE LEFT of this post and click on the link - Subscribe to The Dishes Will Wait By Email.

Fill out the information requested and you’re set!

Every time I post a new blog entry, you will get an email.

Simple as that.

Feedburner makes it possible.

Feedburner, the provider that now manages this web feed.

P.S. A few select people already receive blog notifications from me by email. That is something entirely different. That is a service provided by Blogger that allows me to enter up to ten email addresses that I choose to receive notification. So if you are one of those people, DISREGARD THE ABOVE!!