Lögberg-Heimskringla - 31.01.2003, Qupperneq 6

page 6 * Lögberg-Heimskringla « Friday, 31 January 2003
“Any man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind ... No man is an island, entire ofhimself ”—John Donne • “Maðar er manns gaman. ”—Hávamál
Spotlighting lives lived and milestones in the lives of Icelandic North Americans.
Baldur (Bud) Lome Stefanson
Baldur (Bud) Stefanson
passed away suddenly
while a patient at the Grace
Hospital on January 14, 2003
at the age of 73. He is sadly
missed and his memory will be
cherished by his family and all
who knew him well. He was
single and had no offspring but
he was Uncle Buddy to all his
nieces and nephews. Bud was
born in Lundar, MB on March
3, 1929. He was predeceased
by his parents Palmi and
Kristin Stefanson, and brother-
in-law Baldur Jonsson. He is
survived by his sister Florence
(Tom) Barnes of Ashern, MB,
sister Clara (Leslie) Will of
Toronto, and brother Jon
(Diane) Stefanson of
Headingley, MB. He will be
missed by nieces and nephews
Karen (John) Linde, Joanne
(Clayton) Dowsett, Ron
(Brenda) Jonsson, Darlene
Jonsson (Kerry Bjornson),
Kirsten Will (fiance Michael
Habib), Karin Will, Kyra
Stefanson (Marc Girouard),
Lara Stefanson (Tom Rees),
Svava Stefanson (Eli
Chernenki) and Mandy
Stefanson, as well as grand and
great-grand nieces and
nephews and many other rela-
tives and friends.
Bud operated the home-
stead farm, growing certain
crops but concentrating mainly
on raising beef cattle. The farm
bordered onto the shores of
Lake Manitoba west of
Moosehom, MB. Before taking
over operation of the farm, Bud
completed a two-year
Agriculture Diploma course at
the University of Manitoba.
His management of the farm
was a constant process of
development and moderniza-
tion. As part of this operation
he raised purebred Charlaois
cattle for a time. Bud was a
good neighbour in a communi-
ty where neighbour helping
neighbour was the norm.
His parents lived on the
farm until they passed away.
His mother lived under his
care, although fully functional
and in charge of the house,
until she passed away at the
age of 95. Due to health prob-
lems, Bud had to stop farming
and sold the farm to nephew
Ron Jonsson and his wife
Brenda. Bud’s most recent res-
idence was the 55+ Lions
Manor in Stonewall. The grati-
tude of the family is extended
to the Interlake Regional
Health Authority home care
workers at the Lions Manor
and to all those who helped
maintain Bud’s quality of life
by visits and phone calls.
A memorial was held at
Neil Bardal Inc. 984 Portage
Ave., on Sunday January 19,
2003. A second memorial held
at the Faulkner Community
Hall on Thursday January 23,
2003. In lieu of flowers, dona-
tions may be sent to the Heart
and Stroke Foundation Suite
200, 6 Donald St. Winnipeg
MB R3L 0K6, or a charity of
choice.
NEIL BARDAL INC.
949-2200
RlEI IPív
m
Fish with Creamy Mushroom Sauce
Chef Hilmar B. Jónsson
Ingredients
6 servings
- ó pieces 4-6 oz
Samband Cod or
Pollock loins
- Juice from V2 lemon
- Salt and white pepper
- 3 tbsp butter
- 1 /2 small onion, finely
chopped
- 3 cups button mush-
rooms, sliced
- 1 cup heavy cream
- 1 /4 cup dry white
wine
- 2 tbsp Ranch dressing
- Cornstarch if needed
Place fish loins on a sheet
pan, sprinkle with lemon juice
and salt and pepper to taste.
Cover fish with foil and bake
in a 400 F hot oven for 16-20
minutes if frozen, 8-10 if
thawed.
Sauce: Clean and slice mush-
rooms. Melt butter in a heavy,
deep skillet and simmer
onions at a moderate heat until
soft - not brown. Add the
mushrooms. Pour in the wine
and simmer for 6-8 minutes.
Pour in the cream and the
Ranch dressing and bring to a
boil. Season with salt and pep-
per to taste and thicken with
cornstarch if needed. Serve
sauce over fish.
Serve with fresh, cooked
vegetables.
Logging Camp Life
Alma MacLeod
Calgary, AB
remember my introduction to
logging camp life as if it were
yesterday.
I was bom on the prairies
and lived quite a sheltered life. I
met my future husband in 1944.
The war was over, and the
world was trying to get back to
normal. We decided to try our
luck at the West Coast, and
while I was staying with my in-
laws, my husband got a job in
the logging industry. Houses
were at a premium, but he final-
ly managed to rent a tiny, basic,
two-roomed house at a beach
camp on the shore of a beautiful
lake.
So on January 2nd, I
arrived in Youbou with my
infant .daughter Linda, and
climbed aboard what they
called a “Speeder,” which was
a boxcar on the railroad. We
travelled about fifteen miles and
arrived at our “Camp” in pitch
dark. Our neighbour met us
with a flashlight and guided us
down a steep trail to our little
house. The sawdust fire was
buming in a beat-up old range,
and the coal oil lamp was lit,
and it sure looked good to me.
After settling down for the
night, our back door flew open,
and a huge bear-like man flew
into our kitchen and fell on the
floor. He had been sent by his
wife to invite us to supper the
next night. I didn’t know what
to expect, but much to my sur-
prise, her table was set with
lovely white linen, crystal
glasses and napkins. The meat,
of course, was deer meat, my
first experience at eating wild
meat, and it was surprisingly
good. This was my introduction
to logging camp life.
We were all young, and
poor, but life was good. The
company store delivered our
groceries twice a week, and I
soon leamed that if I forgot
something, there was no corner
store to go to. There was no
electricity. A few people had
gas-powered washing machines
and they shared. We finally got
a battery radio, and I leamed to
love the classics. CBC was the
only station we could get, and
they played a lot of classical
music. The library system sent
boxes of books from Victoria,
and that was wonderful.
I rinsed my daughter’s dia-
pers in the lake, something that
would be a no-no now. One of
my best memories is of the
lake early in the moming with
the cry of the loons, and the
mist rising.
We leamed to share, and
make our own fun. The friend-
ships I formed there are still a
part of my life. The fun we had
more than made up for the lux-
uries we lacked.
The few of us that are left
are a dying breed. I really
believe that we were almost the
last of the pioneers. I think the
Icelandic genes I inherited from
my mother and her
family helped me to be
strong and to build a good mar-
riage that lasted forty-seven
years. I am now 77 years old,
and feel that I still have a lot to
contribute.
My mother, Hallgerður
Ólafsdóttir, was born in
Reykjavík in 1900. She immi-
grated to Canada early in the
1900’s, with her mother and
three siblings to Macleod, AB
or Fort Macleod, as it is now
known.
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