Tusen Takk for Culture

Michelle Snyder
Eastern College

In this short paper the author demonstrates a deep appreciation of her Norwegian cultural heritage.  Many Norwegian words with English explanations give an authentic flavor to this writing.

"To be honest, I really don’t know anything about my background. My family does not really have any special traditions," one girl offered, the others nodding their heads in agreement.

I did not understand. Ever since I was a toddler, I had been immersed in the traditions of my maternal grandparents, who came to Ellis Island from Norway sometime after World War II. They settled in the Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn, New York, where many other Norwegians came to live. Presently, Grandma and Grandpa’s house is right up the street from my own in Mount Bethel, Pennsylvania, where I can invariably find some kind of Norwegian food in the refrigerator or the cabinets. I love going up there for afternoon snacks, consisting of gjetost (goat cheese) or lefse (potato pancakes). And when I am really fortunate, Grandma will give me lohengrin, which is a bowtie-shaped dark chocolate bar with a creamy rum filling.

When I was two years old, I rode on a float in Brooklyn’s Sytten Mai (pronounced sutt-en-a-my) parade. Sytten Mai literally means "the seventeenth of May," equivalent to America’s fourth of July. This day commemorates Norway’s independence from Sweden and Denmark. The participants are clad in their customary dress; all wear heavy black woolen garments embellished with embroidery of reds, greens, and dark pinks. The designs are quite elaborate, and stand out boldly against the black background. Crisp, white linen blouses are worn underneath the vests, and the women and girls often wear decorative aprons or caps.

I never realized just how much I knew about my own cultural heritage--and how few of my peers enjoyed the same understanding--until that day in social work class. The professor had assigned us to small groups of about five; we were told to discuss what we thought the word culture really meant and share some of the traditions and cornerstones from our own families.

I was bursting with stories. I told them about the Norwegian table prayer which I learned as a child, and how even now we cannot leave the table without saying tusen takk for maten, which means "a thousand thanks for the food." Also, Grandma and Grandpa often speak to each other in their native tongue. I always listen carefully, hoping to pick up as much of the language and accent as possible. When my sisters and I were younger, we would start speaking to each other in pig Latin as soon as they started talking in Norske. We could not understand them, so we did not want them to understand us.

When the conversation turned to special holidays, faces brightened as we reflected on fond memories of Easter egg hunts or Christmas cookie-baking. One of my favorite Norwegian traditions is practiced every Christmas Eve at the Pedersen’s. After an ample supper, the family gathers around for homemade ris grot (rice pudding); it is warm and sprinkled with cinnamon or drizzled with strawberries. Before Grandma brings it to the table, she mixes a nut into the serving bowl; whoever finds the nut in their dish wins a pig-shaped chunk of marzipan from one of the Norwegian specialty shops in Brooklyn.

When I was growing up, there were many visits from Norwegian relatives, many of whom were second cousins or great aunts and uncles. I loved hearing their accents and learning how to say a few helpful phrases. Onkel Kristian, my grandfather’s brother and the family trickster, once taught my sisters and me to say kan du faar penger, which means "can I have some money?". We giggled at the thought of what Grandma and Grandpa’s reactions would be if we used it on them.

I especially enjoyed the times when the children would come. We would gather in Grandma and Grandpa’s basement, join hands in a circle, and sing American songs for hours. A swim in the backyard pool was also a favorite pastime. Marianne, our second cousin from Vegarshei, had a bathing suit which--I remember--was very high-cut. By conservative American standards it would have been considered immodest, although in her culture, it was normal and accepted.

Solja jewelry and lusekoftas (handmade wool sweaters) are two of my favorite things to wear to show my Norske spirit. My mother’s cousin Asta makes soljas for a living; one year, my sisters and I received one that she had made. Each was different in size and shape, but all had a silver base with an intricate scroll design and tear-like droplets of gold hanging off the bottom.

Lusekoftas come in an array of bright colors, unique patterns, and exquisite pewter clasps. They are durable and effectively keep out the frigid air that is common to Norway’s climate. Whenever I wear my lusekofta, many people compliment its vivid colors and gorgeous handiwork. But I do not wear it simply for the compliments. It is a symbol of my cultural identity, a way for others to know a little more about me and the background which has shaped who I am today.

I have never visited Norway, but it has always been my dream to go there. I would love to meet the people I hear so much about, to talk with those people whose letters I read and pictures I see at Christmas.

The bonds of family which a background like this develops are very strong. When I came to Eastern, it was so difficult to leave my home because my family was the biggest part of who I was. The Norwegian traditions and the close proximity of my relatives made it very burdensome to simply pack my bags and move on to a new stage of life. Not only was I leaving behind friends and family, but a piece of myself, the cultural self. That cultural self was revived that day in social work class. I realized how much my family’s traditions meant to me, and how blessed I was to have any traditions at all. I became excited when I talked about my family’s heritage; it was enjoyable to share my experiences with my peers who did not have the same cultural influence.

My Norwegian background has also helped me appreciate the studies of other cultures. Most people are not interested in learning about new cultures; they are content to know what they know about their own and nothing more. I have always been fascinated with the study of other cultures unlike my own, and I truly believe this stems from the awareness of my own background.

I would advise others who do not know much--or anything--about their background to find out. It could strengthen their family by bringing them to closer unity; it gives them a sense of pride in their background; and it can help them appreciate other cultures and themselves self as a cultural being.

It is also important to remember that culture does not mean that they must be different nationalities. Families--even friends--can establish their own traditions, such as annual vacations to the beach or late night trips to all-night convenience stores. No matter what they do or who they do it with, traditions provide a firm ground in an ever-changing world; the traditions provide constancy in a world of inconsistencies.

 

Michelle Snyder, born in Brooklyn, New York, is now a country girl living in the Pocono Mountain area in Pennsylvania.  As a sophomore at Eastern she double-majors in English Literature and Writing.

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Recommended Citation in the APA style:

Snyder, M. (1999). Tusen takk for culture. Electronic Magazine of Multicultural Education <http://www.eastern.edu/publications/emme/1999spring/snyder.html> (your access year, month date).