THE NEWBERRY EAGLE - La Pine Centennial Commemorative Issue • DECEMBER 2010
Hanson Mansion that it will be hard to imagine everything that will be done in one day. It will be hard to remember how quiet the morning was. In the middle of the house, women fill the cheery yellow kitchen. The back door bursts open to reveal two rosy cheeked children. The snow makes them so excited that they enter with their sleds behind them. The ladies rush to pull off mittens, hats, and gloves. They call for help and a laughing Uncle picks up the snowy sleds and, with a big swoop, he has the sleds outside. The little sleds will be just outside the back door where they await the next ‘kiddy play-fest’. The children warm themselves in the heat from the oven where the sweet bread is baking. Hot milk is poured by a tall Auntie. Ground almonds and honey is added to the waiting mugs and the little ones start to sip the toddies. When the gray-haired, plumpish Grandmother who lives here, speaks sweetly to the little girls, “How about cookies?”, only toothless smiles and wide eyes answer. She hands them each a lebkuchen and puts a handful of pfeffernussen in each child’s pocket. The children are warm and happy in the center of their holiday world. Through the door to the dining room, the men are visiting and playing the card game, Whist. There is much laughter! They talk about life, people they all know and what they dream for the New Year. This is where the men seem to share their time. Some of the older nieces and nephews sit on the stairs and listen to the sage wisdom that is dispensed with each new hand of cards. One of the Aunts has a dust cloth and lemon oil in her strong hands. She is going through the first floor, one room at a time, and polishing every wooden surface. The rose wood furniture: table and chairs, buffet, piano and bench, - all proudly support the holiday visitors, foods and family life, that, at this moment, seems like it could last forever. It is a happy place to celebrate! In the living room, the overstuffed green sofas have been moved aside to make room for the big fir Christmas tree. Packages fill the space below the branches and lights fill the room with a lovely glow. Two cousins gaze dreamily at the gifts and tell each other the stories of the time they got their best present ever! The room is where people will sit on the two green couches and cover the floor with the wrapping paper they pull off their packages, but now, it is time to dream. Upstairs, the sleeping quarters for the few returning adult children, holds the wrapping paper, bows, scotch tape, suitcases and beds. It is home for the holidays! No child will venture up the stairs past the bathroom during the sacred wrapping time. Never. Instead, the children- who for years did sleep next to their parents on the floor, now gather together in a big unfinished room that has been added on to the house by the old Grandfather. Lined up, in sleeping bags, they will wait for Santa’s arrival. They are Santa’s Posse. During the dark hours of the coming night, they will giggle,
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laugh, exchange stories and invade the big brass cookie cans that have been left to the unfinished coolness of the room and the warmth of many hungry little hands. Life is often delicious! As Christmas Eve Day passes through the hours of activity and anticipation, the final touches are put on the food and the serving area in the yellow kitchen. Then it is time to get ready for evening. The night has fallen, bringing lots more snow. Its white purity adds credibility to the reason there is a celebration this white night. It is time for the little Lucia Brides of the household to put on headdresses of candles and straighten stiff, starched, white costumes to wear outside to sing carols in the neighborhood. They are marking the trip to the old stable in Bethlehem two thousand years ago. But so far it is too much fun to bother with deep meaning. The beliefs that the family shares are lodged deep in the heart of the family. It is the real reason for gathering together. And soon they all will come, on their many personal journeys, to get to the place they call home on time. Before the traditional supper is served. They come to make new memories. It is a beautiful time for the members of the family to live and love together. The occasion becomes an American gathering; representing mountains, Great Plains, valleys, deltas, various metropolitan communities, farms and villages all over the nation. Each part of the family, though larger every year, has left behind a part of themselves to keep the lamplight lit for their return to home. But where is home? The family is here! Church bells peel out into the winter night. The Lucia Brides join others on the streets. Carols sing out in the snowy night. Their songs come through in the bell tones, sharp, bright and clear. The bells say it all: “I’m here. You’re here. We’re here This year.” The small empty lot is blanketed with a new layer of heavy snow. Hush! The dream of Hanson Mansion continues. The cold ground trembles slightly, with its own soft chuckling. The mixed smells permeate the air throughout the family’s house. Women laugh as they take the soaked codfish out of the lye baths. They put it in the salted water-bath and work just as hard to prepare all favorite family foods. There are foods to be roasted, boiled, sautéed and mashed. And Baked! The things that are baked bring the most o-ohs and a-ahs! It is a lovely thing to hear. A better thing to watch. There is a rhythm to the kitchen women; each task done knowingly and lovingly. What do the men do?
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The dreamy little lot can’t recall. Closer to the time of the feast, the rest of the family and friends arrive from many other places. Older and younger faces are aglow with the anticipation of the events to follow: visiting, Santa Claus, midnight services and the traditional Lutefisk and Lefse meal that feeds their identity and reminds them of their culture. The old folks find an early place at the table. They will visit until dinner. Comparing notes on life’s successes and losses The children head to the unfinished room where they will prepare to present themselves: clean clothes, clean hands, clean faces and best smiles. The kitchen women wind down. But they will not rest. Last minute platters of Lefse and home baked goodies are set out on the L-shaped counter for the waiting assembly line of eaters. The rhythm of the kitchen women will peak during the serving of the meal. All the dishes will be carried forth to the massive table, and as in a factory, they will be used by the family members to concoct such heaping platters of delicious offerings that they will appear to be food sculpture! Everyone gathers. There is a hush. In moments, there will be silence for prayer. This will be followed by a fury of o-o-ohs, a-a-ahs, clinking silverware and the sounds of satiation. The heaping bowls of Lutefisk, Swedish meatballs, paradise pudding, salads, mashed potatoes, and white gravy, Jell-O, Lefse and butter, will be consumed. Talking will slow down. After the meal, chairs will scrape, belts will be loosened, praise will be given and it will be time for coffee and clean up. “What did the men do?” a little boy asked a lady who was praising the Grandparents for preparing the meal. “The women do all the work to put things right and get dessert ready.” Is there room for dessert? Full tummies make the eyes roll up with the thought of more food! The children switch immediately to sugarplum thoughts. Santa will be here in a few hours. The waiting is so exciting! The little piece of ground remembers what the men do! The men finally move to warm up the cars! They will transport everyone to the church. The commotion that follows dinner is surely designed to burn off the odd cookie! The cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, moms, dads and family friends forget about Santa Claus and turn their attention to religion. They will remember the Christmas birth of Jesus by going to church! There will be music and songs to enjoy, fir boughs and a manger will play out the Christmas miracle to the congregation. Everyone will sing, pray and share the common beliefs. After the proud family watches their aunt play the part of Mary in the pageant, the men will warm up the cars for the journey home and back to the Mansion the family will go. Plates of cookies, milk and strong coffee will fill the overfull bellies of the family. Everyone squeezes into the living room. Each face lights up with childlike brilliance as presents are distributed to all. It is a time for more o-oohs and a-a-ahs-and thanks. Excited children gather to fix Santa a plate of cookies. They add carrots for Santa’s famous Reindeer, and address a last minute note to him. In the morning the present he brings to each of them will complete the Christmas Eve traditions. Like the whirlwind that will soon invade the skies, the children are whisked away to sleep. But, they don’t. They whisper to each other in hushed tones. “ H-h-u-u-s-s-h-h!” “Santa is coming!” “D o you hear bells?” “No!” Then it is over. The night claims its last hold out and the house is still. Even the ground is too tired to stay awake and it drifts in and out of the dream. In my hotel room, my family is slow to wake up. We traveled far to come here and we are all tired. It is the second day of the Hanson Family Christmas Reunion. I woke up early though because of the hotel heat, the light
of a new day and the smell of coffee. I can sit for a bit, by the big window and reflect on how I feel. More snow has fallen through the quiet night. It is Christmas Day. I see the strangers drive slowly on the slippery streets. Carefully, they drive along. Last night, one of the cousins hosted the traditional feast. Today, there will be much to do with the added snowfall hampering our travel. I will need to change cars at the rental place, have brunch with a niece, and join with the rest of the relatives to share another evening meal. Tonight we all will celebrate the continuing life of the clan who came to gather here. I think about the changes. Celebrating is more complex when you juggle places and times instead of staying in one place. Making each different connection is the challenge of the day. Why do we come? It’s Christmas. We all want to regain a piece or two of what we once had. Youth! Acceptance! By uniting across time, we renew. On these special occasions, we are ‘re-bonded’. As I watch from my vantage point above the city, I decide to take my children to see the place where I had all of my Christmas memories. I will show them where the Hanson Mansion stood and explain how happy we were when we lived there. The remnants of the Christmas dream from the day before re-play for the small patch of ground. It is nearly over. It is time to wake up. It tries to finish the dream. The children have been asleep for over an hour. It is late when the adults go to bed. It is just a while before kids are up to see the wonders of the night when reindeer fly and Old Saint Nick visits every boy and girl between dark and dawn. Wind blows the snow into drifts. The small lot hears the dreamy sounds of children waking to their gifts mixed with the sounds of snow- ploughs on Howard Street. Groggy from the desire to stay asleep, it is time to come back to the saddest realization. The Hansons are gone. The lot is empty. It is alone. All alone. I open the doors of the big Lincoln. My two daughters and my future son-in-law get out to walk the lot. It is small, bare and cold. But it feels like magic to me. I move over every inch of ground and tell my story to my children. “Here is where the locust trees were all planted,” I point to the side of the yard. “There were mother hens and chicks along here.” I point out every nook and cranny. “The front of the house was facing Carlisle Street,” I continue. “There was a wooden porch with creaky steps. We played in the side yard by Mrs. Palmquist’s house. And this is where Grandpa added a new kitchen.” I walked to the center of the empty lot, measuring twenty-seven steps. “And right here was the unfinished room we all loved to stay in on Christmas Eve. Over there was Grandpa’s shop. Did I tell you he made cabinets?” I want to tell them everything. Now! “Christmas is always white here in Spokane. Just like today. You guys would have loved it back then.” I am feeling like I don’t want to leave this tiny lot. This is such a special part of how we all were. The words stop coming easily. A tear rolls down my cheek and falls to the ground. I fight to keep from crying. All I want is to try to make my children understand that this is an important place to me. I don’t know if they do. “And even though we aren’t in the old house, we can remember.” The tears fill my eyes. We go back to the car and leave. The steps of people above draw the sleepy lot to full cognition. Voices fill the air. The timber of the woman’s voice- her sounds, makes the little lot recall the clip and music of the family who lived in the old house.
They called it Hanson Mansion. They are gone, but not forgotten. If ground could speak…… The End