Lögberg-Heimskringla - 13.12.1996, Page 1

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neimsKringia
The lcelandic Weekly
I.ö»ber” Stol'nafí 14. janu.tr 18SS Heimskringla Stolnafí 9. september 1SS6
Besta Jó/a
og Nýárs Óskir!
We wish you all the best
this holiday season!
Our next issue will be
January 17, 1997.
110 Argangur Föstudagur 13, desember 1996 Numer 44
HOthYear Publications Mail Registration No. 1667 Friday, 13 December, 1996 Number44
Christmas Memories
By Kevin Jón Johnson
we leaf through history, recent
or past, we will probably find
those less fit than ourselves to
exercise freedom in a democratic
society; we will also find those more
fit. Most of us, benefitted by strong,
functional families, can count our
blessings. The Christmas season offers
a time to celebrate with family in those
relationships from which we gain
definition and most pleasure.
When any element of culture
degrades in a person — society and
that individual suffer as a result. John
Donne, the British metaphysical poet,
reflected this idea in suggesting that no
man is an island; none of us, as mem-
bers of the human community, benefít
from the tragedy of dysfunction,
violence, amorality, or crime. Let us
hope, that with Mark Twain’s funeral,
the story of cultural decline in the
world is vastly exaggerated, for we
lack the privilege of dissociation. We
are a part of all that we have met.
For many of us, whose forebears
built this nation through the sacrifice of
pioneering, the benefits afforded to us
by our society should not easily escape
our strongest attention. History can
teach the propriety of gratitude. The
insightful book by Daisy L. Neijmann,
The Icelandic Voice in Canadian
Letters, offers a significant resource in
the building of such an historical
foundation for those of us living north
of summer.
Continued on page 17
ByAlan Schaldemose
Every once in a while there is a
special memory; one that,
when it rises, is so strong that
all the senses remember it in
unison. Sight, smell, and sound come
together permanently etched in a joyful
salute to good times past.
Christmas tends to be one of those
times when children are predisposed to
developing the special recollections we
hold so dear. Be it important or trivial,
major event or small detail, that unique
blend of observation, perception, and
wonderment creates lasting impressions
of life in the most unexpected of moments.
It could be the unforgettable smell of
the Christmas kitchen when your height,
below table top vision level, allows the
imagination to run wild with expectations
of the feast to follow. Then again it could
be the blend of a bright, clear, starlit night
and that very unique special sound of the
snow squeaking under father’s boots on the
way to the Christmas concert. Possibly it
is the sound of family laughter at the
youngest’s odd interpretation of the
Christmas carol. Or maybe it’s that tingly
warm feeling that followed a small act of
kindness in helping mother deliver the
turkey to the less fortunate neighbours
down the street. Whatever sense twigs the
memory, the rest awaken automatically,
flowing back to make the moment com-
plete as it is relived time and time again.
It takes a special skill to even describe
such a memory adequately to those who
did not have the fortune of experiencing
it first hand. But when it is done well,
everyone shares the pleasure that such
recollection can bring.
Consider the following from one of
L.H.’s readers, Ólöf Baldwinson Hardy
of Selkirk, Manitoba.
Our Lögberg was circulated among
several Icelandic speaking bachelor
fishermen and trappers who would gather
at our home in the 30’s and 40’s. I
remember the lively discussions and
debates with special friends like Guðni
Bjornson, Kris Goodman, Oli Freeman,
Walter Johnson, Art Petursson, and uncle
Jonni Johnson. I’d be listening to their
challenging talk as they seamed on fish
nets strung through the living room of our
small log house. I still have a wooden
needle that reminds me ofmy childhood
task offdling the needles with seaming
twine. I’d hear the click ofthe needles as
background to the poetry being recited
in unison, or favourite Icelandic and
English songs being sung. At the time, I
didn ’t marvel at how perfectly bilingual
these people were! I assumed Iceland was
not so far away since these people all
Continued on page 14