Commentary; Posted: 12/20/06
Recollections of a Swedish Christmas past
Doris Lellman
Guest Columnist
Christmas Eve came at last. We were scrubbed and dressed in our new red Christmas dresses. Our hair was brushed and curled and we were told to sit quietly until my father came with the horse and sleigh to take us to my Swedish grandfatherís house.
I canít remember a time when it wasnít cold or when there werenít deep drifts of snow. My mother warmed bricks on the kitchen stove and wrapped them in papers to keep our feet warm on the trip.
And the large horsehair blanket was ready to lay over our laps for extra warmth. My fatherís big horsehair mittens made a loud slapping noise when he clapped them together to urge the horse on faster.
We were on our way, my two sisters and I on the back seat, my mother in front beside my father. (When I was nine my sisters were six and three.) The sleigh was called a cutter and its bells jingled merrily.
What a ride it was, we three snuggled under the blanket, bundled in our knitted stocking caps and scarves and urging my father to hurry the horse. Sometimes there was so much snow my dad could not follow the road but cut across fields with the snow flying and the bells ringing.
It was two miles to my grandfatherís house in Cannon Falls. We could hardly wait to get there. And we would be staying over night!
When we arrived all the aunts came out to greet us and to unbundle us. My father put the horse in grandfatherís carriage house and gave him some extra hay. The Swedish people always gave the animals extra treats at Christmas.
In the yard stood the birdsí Christmas tree, a large sheaf of grain with cranberries scattered in the straw. And we all believed that if we were to go out to the barn at midnight on Christmas Eve we would see the animals kneeling in praise of the baby Jesus.
First came the big dinner with grandfather saying grace before we could sit down. The table stretched across the dining room and into the sitting room. There must have been two dozen or more people, since there were 12 cousins alone, six of them older than I. I sat near my cousin Lucille, who was my age.
Oh, the smells of that Christmas dinner ó steaming bowls of lutefisk, baked ham, mashed potatoes with milk and butter gravy, lingonberries, fresh rolls and the rice pudding with a lucky almond in it. It was said whoever got the almond would either get married in the coming year or be prosperous.
We always watched to see whether Aunt Clara, our ëold maidí aunt, would get the almond. She did many times but still she never married. There was home-made ice cream for dessert with all sorts of Christmas cookies which the aunts had spent weeks in making.
After the dinner the women went to the kitchen to wash the dishes and Aunt Clara had many things to amuse us children. She stretched a curtain across the corner of one room for a fish pond. We each had a pole with a hook on a string and we ëfishedí for little gifts from our aunt behind the curtain.
Then we gathered around the piano with my aunt playing and everyone singing carols. At the end we all joined hands and danced around the tree, singing a traditional Swedish Christmas song.
The tree was a beauty since my grandfather, who owned a store, brought new ornaments each year. My favorite was a tiny gold nest with a bird sitting in it. The tree was set in a music box that played Christmas music while the tree slowly revolved. The burning candles on the tree shone on the ornaments making it a sight to remember always. I can still close my eyes and see the turning tree.
All the while we children were listening for the jingle of bells outside. And suddenly, in came Santa with a huge bag filled with gifts over his back. It was so exciting I could hardly stand it. Santa always had a stick in the bottom of his sack and I was so afraid it might have been meant for me because I may have been bad during the year. As I remember, he always gave the stick to one of the adults.
After Santa had gone and we were busy with our gifts, my grandfather stood up to give his gifts. Each one had to go to him, shake hands and accept the envelope of money. I was shy and I always hated to stand there before my very tall grandfather for the money that would go into my bank account.
After that we had to go to my grandfather again to receive a small glass of Christmas wine. This was a tradition in our family and even the young children were given the wine. Then grandfather drank a toast to the new year and we drank the wine.
At last we were able to play with our new toys. But all too soon it was bedtime and we trooped upstairs to bed. It seemed we were hardly asleep when our parents awakened us.
It was Christmas Day! The Julotta service was at five oíclock and again we bundled into the sleigh. The jingle of bells could be heard as people drove through the snow in the cold dark morning.
Inside the church we saw the candle lighted trees on both sides of the altar, evergreen garlands decorating the pews and candles in all the windows. Much of the service was in Swedish and I tried hard to understand. But I loved when they sang the Swedish songs.
After service we went back to Grandfather Skogís house where we had breakfast and then we finally were able to spend the day playing with the toys and games Santa had brought. The day went by quickly and toward evening it was a sleepy family that got into the sleigh for the ride back home.
The article by the late Doris Lellman was written for a greeting card that Doris and Earl Lellman of Forest Lake sent to their children and grandchildren about 20 years ago. Doris wrote this recollection of the Skog familyís observance of Christmas when she was a young girl. Earl Lellman shares it with readers this week.
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