The Icelandic connection - 01.12.2020, Side 44

186
ICELANDIC CONNECTION
Vol. 71 #4
our place 15 or even
20 years. Joi was a
remarkable fellow, but
he had a problem, an
addiction of course.
It was well known in
the area, in town and
the district that there
was never any tobacco,
alcohol or liquor in the
Narfason household.
That was just a no
no. Our family was
well known for the
generosity of the
people who lived there
if there was someone
who was homeless and
didn’t have any options
left. Somebody would
phone and ask if we
could come pick him
up and spend time
with us so he could
get over his desire for
alcohol and get back
on his feet. This went
on for some time. The
first time he came he
saw the harmonika he
picked it up and he
played it as beautifully
as Siggi. Apparently,
he was artistic in every
way. He could paint, sketch he could
make sprellikall (a merrionette kind of
puppet). He wasn’t kid friendly; he didn’t
have a lot of patience for kids. He was
not a patient man. I would just watch
him and by golly you know I could do
the same thing he did. I could pretty
soon pick out a few notes and it started
to get a little interesting. As time went
on there were others during the Great
Depression that were similar to Joi and
another one of these people wound up in
Oli Narfason
they could learn to play. I wouldn’t say it
took a lot of abuse but it sure didn’t get
much tender loving care.
As time went on, we were into the
great depression, there was an immigrant
we will call Joi, who had emigrated
some few years before from Iceland. It
seems to be logical that he was shall we
say encouraged with probably getting
passage and probably a stipend we used
to call remittance. That would have run
out at some point as he would have been
in Canada by the time, he wound up at