July 16th…“WHAT ARE SOME PERSONALITY TRAITS YOU ADMIRED ABOUT YOUR NORWEGIAN FARMER FATHER?”
POEM – “Our Delightful Dynamo Daddy” by N. Elliott Noorlun.
When Daddy entered, Into this life,
At the end of World War I,
His wavy hair, With style and flair,
Showed his folks this boy would be fun!
In the Northern State, Minnesota was great, Though times and goings were tough,
On Chippewa land, He grew strong and grand, Cause his Indian friends played rough.
For whatever reason, There came a season, Eighth Grade to be exact,
Though he was no fool, It was time to leave school, Life called and he had to act.
For “room and board”, He trusted the Lord, As he worked from farm to farm.
Fifty cents a day, Is what they would pay, Picking “tators” with strong young arm.
Our dad was a charmer, Just like the farmer, Who had loved and brought him life,
Grandfather was stern, And helped our dad learn, How to deal with struggles n strife.
The years rolled by, And our handsome guy, Worked hard and played hard, too.
To a dance they would go, To wiggle the toe, Dressed fancy with well-combed “doo”.
Dad’s car back then, Was a Chevrolet, Made in 1929.
What a pair they made, In his corduroy suede, Bell-bottomed slacks so fine.
When love ensued, Our father then viewed, Young family of daughter and son.
As a man of the land, By the work of his hand, The blessings of God had been won.
Though never rich, In those things of which, The world acclaims success,
Our father possessed, The gold that is best, That of honesty and nothing less.
Up before dawn, With a cough and a yawn, Our daddy began his farm work.
Whether well, or ill, Our father’s strong will, Finished tasks he would not shirk.
There were times when his confident, Self-willed ways,
Could fluster our mother for worrisome days.
As into town he’d go, Muddy boots still in tow,
Cared he not to be fancy, Tis hard work that pays.
Our father loved truth, And hated a liar,
And with traits like that, You can’t get much higher.
Sure, he had his human failings,
But when cancer struck, With all its ailings,
Our dad persevered, And fought the good fight,
Hoping to see, Another day’s light.
As the cancer progressed, Our hearts they did wail,
As we saw his strong body, Become very frail.
Only a few more days, When his end had begun,
As Heaven then welcomed, A Norwegian Son.
Norwegian Farmer's Son 
Hi Elliot
I have to say again how much I enjoy reading these stories of you and your family.
I guess we lost touch during and after high school. I wasn’t aware of when your dad passed. It was almost exatly two years after my dad passed away and he was also 61.
Thanks
Dennis
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Dear Buddy Dennis,
It’s like someone hands me a million dollar bill when you stop by here with a comment like this!!!! Thanks EVER so much!! ;o)
On FB, I have two pages where I drop stories/poems. One is called Minnesota Memories and the other is called Tiger Touches. Only a couple folk take the second or two to click the LIKE button, but what I DO have is a feature called SEEN BY. That tells me who has seen the story………and that number has reached 60 or even 80, depending on the topic. I call those folks my “SEENERS” ;o)
How about that……both our fathers left this earth at the same age……wowsa!
I’m taking the next step towards someday selling some or all of my stories here on WordPress. Am even exploring residual income from that. AND, WordPress is gonna help me towards publishing, too…….after we explore markets to see if there’d be any demand for my type of “gentle adventures”. Again, my friend, your notes here GREATLY encourage my heart to share my wannabe writings.
My ancestors would say Munga Tusan Takk (Many Thousand Thanks) ;o)
Blessings,
Elliott
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