September 1st…“SHARE SOME MEMORIES ABOUT YOUR FARMER FATHER’S BIRTHDAY.”
POEM – “Norwegian Birthday Boy” by N. Elliott Noorlun
September 1st, 1918, The day of our father’s birth,
A third-born child, Of the northern wild, There on Minnesota’s earth.
He was one of eight, Five boys n three girls, It must’ve been a riot,
As families that size, Were known to be, Anything but quiet.
Born on or near, The Chippewa Tribe, Dad had many Indian friends,
As rowdy boys, With similar joys, Their laughter could bring on the bends!
As Daddy grew, Hard times he knew, So he launched out on life quite early,
Schooled up to 8th Grade, It was farm work that paid, As he proved his worth so surely.
Hired farm work, Brought him south, To the northern Iowa line,
He worked for food, A place to sleep, And dollars in the pocket were fine.
As World War II, Came to a close, It was time to celebrate.
Brothers were home, No more to roam, So they partied rather late.
I’m told that Dad got “tipsy”, From partying with his sister,
But HEY, Why not?!, T’was a happy lot, That partied with our Mister.
Father was born of a generation, That held a lot inside.
Maybe from quiet Norwegian parents?, Or preserving one’s own pride?
So many questions, I have for Dad, That long to be explored.
A silence dwells, For all the times, I had hoped to find a cord.
Therefore, in MY life, Whilst in victory or strife, I choose to share my story,
His answers I’ll find, As we both unwind, Someday in Heaven’s Glory.
So September 1st, Will always be, A time to stoke the embers,
Of memories gold, And his laughter bold, As this Norwegian Son remembers.