Lögberg-Heimskringla - 26.10.1990, Blaðsíða 4

4 • Lögberg-Heimskringla • Föstudagur 26. október 1990
The Master Carpenter
by Dilia Narfason
J o h a n n
Johannson,
who is called
Joe by all who
know him, is
a retiree now
but still uses
his carpentry
skills for small projects and his own
pleasure.
After discharge from the Air Force
following W.W. II, Joe began working
withhisfather, Sigmundur Johannson,
building houses and thus leaming his
skills on the job. Eventually this
work took them to Winnipeg and in
1949, they joined the Walter Bergman
Construction Company.
Building homes was still
the main focus and Joe did
mostly finishing work.
Over the years this experi-
ence developed into being
an expert fínishing car-
penter.
While still with
Bergman Construction, a
contract to refurbish the
John A. MacDonald House
gave Joe the opportunity
to work at restoration
finishing. Due to the un-
timely death of Dennis
Bergman the work came
Photo
above
right:
Inside the
church at
Hecla.
Left:
Joe
Johannson
to a stand still. However, the architect
John Shivers was impressed with the
work that had been done and through
his influence Joe and his workmate
Walter Gotfried were both hired by
the Historic Resources Dept. and the
project was completed.
This led to other restoration work
for historical buildings including
Turenne House on Pembina Hwy.,
south of St. Norbert; Bohemier House
which was moved from Pembina
Hwy. to Turnbull Drive, as well as a
structure closer to our historic
past, the little church on Hecla Island.
This is a simple but beautiful church
which I’m sure most of us pass by
instead of stopping to go in. All
these historic sites are worth a visit
and as you do that you may take
some pride in the fact that one of
our own “ethnic kin” had a hand in
making the structure so authentic
and beautiful.
Health problems dictated Joe’s
retirementbut some carpentry around
the home keeps him busy at a more
leisurely pace. As is often the case,
things at home get put off when one
is employed full time. However, Joe’s
wife Thorun kept her list handy anc.
you may be sure that work was done
in the same meticulous manner that
Joe showed on the job.
Insights into the humourous poetry of K.N,
by Paul A. Sigurdson
The Telephone
The strangest news, KN. had died,
’Round Gardar town was spread;
But this was not at all correct,
’Twas just the Pope instead.
Even in translation the humor of
this little piece comes through. How-
ever for those not familiar with the
Icelandic tongue the poem itself may
seem a bit puzzling as to why such an
error occurred.
KN. is the name Kristján Níels
Júlíus adopted for himself, and indeed
everyone who knew him, or knew of
him, referred to him by these two let-
ters.
In Icelandic these letters are pro-
nounced COW-N, but the word for “the
Pope” is “páfínn” and is pronounced
POW-IN. When we see the close simi-
larity of the two articulations we can
understand how the mistake of identi-
ties could have been made during a
telephone conversation, especially
since the early country telephones were
not always as clear as they are today.
The humorist seized the opportu-
nity to give flight to his whimsey, at
the same time elevating himself - of
course with tongue-in-cheek — to a
loftier status than the Vatican pontiff!
I want to tum now to a second
poem, one which actually defíes
translation because of the poet’s clever
manipulations of the two languages at
his command.
Here are the four verses, first in the
original andthen in rough translation:
Nú heilsa ég heimspeking frægum
Og hneigi mig. Sæll vert þú
Heiðraði herra Ágúst
H. “do you do?”.
I greet a philosopher famous,
And humbly bow. Good-day to you
Mr. Honorable August
H. do you do?
Are you confused? If you don’t know
Icelandic you will be. The poem ap-
pears bland and simple. Where is the
humor? The secret lies in the way that
the“H”ispronounced. In Icelandicitis
pronounced as HOW. So Mr. Ágúst H.
becomes Mr. August How, and KN.
uses it to introduce the English “How
do you do?”
But KN. has another trick up his
sleeve. Here is stanza two:
Við þráum hér syðra að sjá þig
Og setjast hjá þér í bíl,
Og hlusta á þig, herra Ágúst
H. “do you feel?”
To see and to chat with you also,
We have a desire that’s real
And listen to you Mr. August
H. do you feel?
We go not to stanza three where he
abandons the English and continues
to innovate, this time in his native
tongue. He continues his play on the
letter “H” with its HOW sound but is
now able to capitalize on the Icelandic
word “HÁ” which sounds like HOW
but means “high”, or “much”.
Það er svo hressandi, heilnæmt,
Og heimskuna dæmir í bann,
Að hlusta á þig, herra Ágúst
H. lærðan mann.
Ah, it is so wholesome, refreshing
- - All nonsense is given the ban - -
To listen to you Mr. August
H. (HIGH) leamed man.
And now the fínal stanza using the
same trick:
Þeir sem að þekkja þig vita,
Þegar að komið er haust,
Heldur þú heimleiðis, Ágúst
H. vaðalaust.
All those who know you are saying
When autumn-time comes to be,
You’ll go on your homeward way,
August
H. (HOW) silently.
If some of you reading this are
somewhat confused, don’t despair. I
told you at the outset some of KN.’s
poems were impossible to translate! If
I’ve done nothing else I’ve proved that
statement! I hope I have succeeded in
giving you a glimpse into the clever
verbal manipulations KN. was capa-
ble of, and how ingeniously he was
able to blend the two languages opening
up virgin literary territory to give
himself wide range for his inimitable
flights of fancy.
In his preface to one of KN.’s books
the late Rev. Haraldur Sigmar relates
the following:
“Wilhelm H. Paulson, who was well-
versed in KN.’s poetry, and who had
had a hand in preparing his book for
the printers told me the following story.
Once when he was on his way to Den-
mark, several notable and leamed men
from Iceland were his fellow travellers,
among them Hannes Hafstein.
Wilhelm began talking about the hu-
morous verses of KN. At fírst some
said that Iceland had various poets
who could write in a humorous vein,
and that it was unlikely that KN.
could better all of them. Át this point
Wilhelm began to recite a long stream
of KN.’s verses and before long his
fellows were doubled up with laughter.
They then admitted that no Icelander
could match KN. by half when it came
to humor.”
K.N.
Also, in my last piece on KN., the
very last line of the last poem was
missed by the printer. Too bad. It was
- as so often happens in typo errors -
the best line of them all. Here’s the
verse:
Homeward Bound
The lights are out and the land is
black,
There’s naught to support me in the
air;
I’m telling you that it’s hell to walk
With your feet on the ground that isn’t
there.