Old-Time Lunch in the Afternoon

Faithful readers will recall our adventures at last month's lutefisk supper and the surge of cultural pride afterward that led to my signing us all up for membership in the Sons of Norway. (The Mobergs now belong to the Hardanger Lodge of Dickinson.) Not long afterward I received a welcoming e-mail from the lodge's membership secretary inviting us to the next regular meeting, which was today at 2:00 P.M.

Susan and I had no idea what to expect. Would it be an intimidatingly huge group? an intimidatingly small group? Would we be looked at suspiciously? expected to do something? recruited to serve as officers or on committees? Still, it being a ND Scandinavian organization, I was relatively certain that there would be food served, so we screwed our courage to the sticking place, left the girls at home, and attended the meeting.

It was held at the Elks Lodge, the parking lot of which was . . . let us say "not full" when we arrived just a few minutes before 2:00 P.M. We walked in with an elderly gentleman who said, "You must be Norwegians." Ah, a fellow Son of Norway! We followed him in and did what he did, signing in at a table near the entrance to the room where the meeting was held. We were greeted at the door by the membership secretary, who was sincerely delighted to see us there. It was a happy surprise for her to have been notified by "the office in Minneapolis" that we had signed up on-line for membership; they don't get many new members who haven't been coaxed and cajoled by a current member into joining during a membership drive.

She was also looking forward to meeting us, however, because she recognized our last name. She is from Columbus, ND, a town about 30 miles from where I grew up, so she knows my relatives and, in fact, once played accordion with my dad at some event, which she said was "a real honor" for her (and a nice compliment to my dad, who is well known in northwestern ND for his accordion playing skills). Later when she introduced us during the meeting, she mentioned our connection via Dad and told the group about our having become members after the lutefisk supper. The other Sons of Norway "Awww"ed approvingly at the thought of our inculcating our daughters in the ways of lutefisk.

There were about two dozen people in attendance, only one of which (besides Susan and me) looked young enough not to have grandchildren yet. But they were a welcoming bunch. Almost everybody there knew Susan's grandparents or parents, and several already knew us because of being members, too, of our church. One woman used to live in Tioga, where I attended school while growing up, so she knew my parents and said that she still reads about me from time to time in the Tioga Tribune (which runs columns telling the goings-on in the community, such as who was home for the weekend visiting whom--"Kevin and Susan and girls were out to the farm this past weekend to help celebrate the birthday of . . .").

The business meeting started with the pledge of allegiance followed by the singing of the national anthems of Canada, Norway, and the United States of America. Then there were minutes to read, old business to review, a treasurer's report to hear, new business to discuss, and a report to hear of a recent Sons of Norway conference in Grand Forks. When we voted on a motion, we didn't say "aye" or "nay"; instead we were supposed to indicate our assent by using a hand signal that has meaning to the lodge but that is a mystery to me. (The president afterward promised to explain it, saying that the symbolism in it is significant. I'll reserve judgment.)

This was all followed by "lunch" at 3:00 P.M. Where I'm from, "lunch" means a light snack served between meals (the main three meals being breakfast in the morning, dinner at noon, and supper in the evening). City folk, however, often call dinner "lunch," call supper "dinner," and don't eat anything at all that they would call "supper." This can result in confusion. Once when I was a child and our out-of-state relatives came for a visit, my mom invited them over for dinner, but they didn't show up until suppertime; they thought they were right on time, but we had long since finished the meal and cleaned up. There's a lesson in that for you, Dear Reader: Not using the correct term for your meal can leave you hungry.

Back to lunch: Morning lunch consists of a cookie or bar and a cup of coffee; afternoon lunch involves baked goods but might also include a sandwich or some potato salad left over from dinner (the noon meal, that is). And where I'm from, if company comes in the evening, there will be lunch served again at night, perhaps around 9:00 or 9:30 P.M., and it will include sandwiches, salads, potato chips, pickles, cake and sweets, Kool-Aid, and coffee. I love lunch in all its forms.

And apparently being Scandinavian is the tie that binds lunch-eaters, no matter what part of the state they're in and no matter their status as farmers or city slickers. Today's lunch included a tray of black olives, pickled okra, and raw carrots, cauliflower, and radishes; ham sandwiches with lettuce and Miracle Whip, some on white buns and some on wheat; an assortment of cookies; pitchers of water; and a large dispenser of coffee. Business being done, it was time to sit down in the middle of the afternoon with a plate full of food over which to visit. Just like my childhood.

We made arrangements to get Sons of Norway memberships for the girls, too, and official name badges for all five of us. I also bought from the president/fundraiser two jars of lingonberry jam, which we plan to sample tonight over vanilla ice cream. We had come a bit nervous, not knowing just what to expect, but we left feeling assured that this is a good group of people in an organization with lots to offer in terms of staying connected to our heritage. We also couldn't help but notice everyone's palpable excitement at having such young members (and that's not just our daughters--they consider Susan and me to be "young"!) join the fold. I wonder how long until that novelty wears off and we're expected to start doing something to earn our keep!