From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

This year’s Easter egg hunt was a winner! The sun was out and snow had melted in the backyard. The ground was still frozen so no mud caked the kids’ shoes. No melt downs of tears; no hitting each other with Easter baskets when spying an elusive egg; no bloody noses or grass stained Easter dresses.

My four little grandchildren, aged 9 months to 5 years old, were little angels running and laughing in excitement when they spied another pink, yellow or blue stuffed egg. It was a love fest! And I was relieved as I remembered my own kids fighting over eggs they’d both found at the same time.

No bloody, muddy kids this year! It was a totally successful Easter egg hunt hosted by Kate and Matt…only big smiles and delighted laughter were heard as each little princess in tiaras and costumes of ball gowns and red wigs sat on the living room floor counting and opening their eggs, sneaking a few sugar high candies as they collected empty egg shells. Meanwhile, baby Scout sat in his seat contentedly smiling as he enjoyed the empty egg shells’ cool comfort in his mouth where teeth are appearing.

The living room picture of family togetherness brought back memories of years ago when I was little, enjoying the company of my DeKok cousins on Sunday afternoons at Grandma DeKok and Aunt Sadie’s home in Brooten. I loved being surrounded by cousins! I had no brothers or sisters at home for eight long years until my sister Barbie was born in 1952.

In the summertime, Aunt Sadie would line up the cousins on her lawn for a snapshot, starting with the oldest and tallest cousins Doris and Norman, going down the line with Jimmy, John Dan and John Gerben, Twila, Thelma, the twins Dennis and Dean, Joan and me. Sadie would make copies of the snapshot to share with each family to mark the occasion in their photo albums. Remember how our moms would insert the little Brownie camera’s photo into four black paper corners to hold the photo and stick on the wide black page of the photo album?

The DeKok family gatherings were my dad’s tall brothers, Dan, Tony and Gerben and sisters Sadie and Susan; everyone called her Toots. All the relatives lived close to the small Dutch town of Brooten, Minn.

Mom’s relatives were all Norwegian. Her brothers, Odin, Emery and Laverne, lived in Starbuck, seven miles across Lake Minnewaska from Glenwood, Minn., where we lived in the jail house when Dad was Pope County Sheriff. Her brother Ervin lived in Alexandria and Arthur lived in Minneapolis. We’d get together with the aunts, uncles and cousins at Christmas time. When Aunt Ruth hosted, her husband Oscar would take us cousins for a horse and sleigh ride through the snowy streets of Morris, where the boarding school for country kids was located. After our cold ride we’d warm up near the wood-burning cook stove in her basement, where the aunts made lefse, and we’d sing around the upright piano with the chipped ivory keys as our “grown up” cousins Lois and Beverly led the songfest. I still remember Muriel’s bright red lips lacquered thick with glamorous lipstick and Anita’s soft curls fresh from a new perm. Wanda had new glasses with harlequin rhinestone stems, and Dagny resembled my mom Esther.

The only snapshots of the Barsness relatives I recall were of the parents playing whist, a card game, at card tables and chairs in the upstairs living room. I think our “city” cousins Bobby, MarieAnn and Dick enjoyed being with us “country” cousins. Life was free and easy in the country when we rode the snowy hills on toboggans and cousin Emery made sleds out of old skis. Both Mom and Dad’s relatives were very musical. Uncle Odin’s kids all played the piano and sang. Like those girls, I had 10 years of piano lessons and practiced a half hour daily after supper while Dad took my place in the kitchen drying dishes which Mom washed at the sink.

Everyone has a story to tell. How sweet it is to look at old photo albums and remember the faces and stories of family members. Why didn’t I ask more questions about the fun they had at barn dances and picnics, growing up in big families and how they met their spouses? It’s too late now; many have passed on. But I still remember their faces as I hope my grandchildren will remember me, their grandma, who loved them so much.

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.