The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.1979, Page 39

THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
37
dered treasure-hunting along the beach, and
waded among the minnows and water-
weeds near shore. Afternoons we put on
bathing suits — dark, long-skirted and of
cotton which clung awkwardly when wet,
but no matter: we paddled and splashed in
the water, wading out to the sandbars and
digging holes in the wet sand. After bathing
it was wonderful to come back to the house
for hot chocolate and fresh “kleinur” or
rolled pancakes.
In the meantime the work of the farm
went on — but it was all fun to us. Whatever
troubles afflicted our elders did not touch
us, and the days passed happily in and
around the area, with an occasional excur-
sion beyond. It was always with sadness —
and a collection of stones and shells as
souvenirs — that we left Loni in September.
1925 was the last of these carefree Loni
summers. Death, financial distress, vandal-
ism and eventually fire brought destruction.
Time, and the proliferation of cottages,
seems to have swallowed up every trace of
the old homestead. The very name “Loni”
has become Loney Beach, so that a visitor
might casually wonder what unknown
Irishman had left his mark on the resort area.
Yet the spirit survives physical destruc-
tion. The benefits of a happy childhood,
insofar as it was in their power to provide it,
the forebearing love — suggestive of the
grace of God. yet human in its family pride
— these were enduring gifts of an earlier
generation. These, and the sense of a great
heritage in language, religion, and culture.
So in memory the sun forever shines over
the beloved scene of our childhood sum-
mers. The heat shimmers off the baking
white sand beach, the light sparkles on the
blue water, and in front of the big old house
stand Margret and Gisli Sveinsson, with
their warm smiles and outstretched arms,
welcoming their grandchildren back for
another summer at Loni.