Hagen Family Reunion

Going back to the farm for a family reunion over the 4th of July weekend brought back memories of other picnics long ago, taking turns on the old swing and getting drinks of water from the spigot in the center of the lawn.  The swing is still there, although refurbished and the spigot remains.  The farm house where my mother was born is still standing, but its days are numbered.  As nearly 70 Hagen kin gathered there was a lot of reminiscing and of course – food.

Saying “The Farm” is like the when someone refers to “home” – it is and always has been known to all of us as “the farm”.  Never any question of which farm, it is just THE farm – the old homestead where our grandparents settled and farmed and raised their children.  The original house can only be imagined in its glory by focusing on the faded scraps of wallpaper clinging to what is left of the walls – and by door knobs, light fixtures, the claw foot tub and pieces of the past strewn around like forgotten memories. Its purpose has changed throughout time.  My own earliest memories of it are conjured up by the smell of sawdust as I remember my Uncle Nordahl using it as a shop for his wood work.  I remember sweeping up sawdust for him when the broom was taller than I, and the pride I felt as he praised my work.

For the reunion there was a “do not enter” sign on the old house, an unfortunate result of the dilapidation it has suffered from no longer being needed.  A brave few, with no regard for rules, still entered, and absorbed the sights and smells that helped them recall their own memories of the farm.

Although the memories vary from cousin to cousin the sentimentality is strong for all of us.  We know the old house may not be there for future picnics but the memories will always remain.

I did mention the food, and when a bunch of Norwegians get together there is always an abundance of food. It’s very much like a church potluck where you are constantly reminded to “keep your fork.” My Aunts came up with a great way to help defray the cost of the food.  We had a raffle.  The raffle items ranged from a Kayaking trip in Canada guided by my cousin Kris to the handmade hardanger needlework piece crafted by my Aunt Elene.  There were quilts, beadwork, table runners, baskets, framed photographs and a much coveted “penny ball” made by my cousin Kay.  The penny ball is an old bowling ball covered with pennies.  I’m not sure which prize garnered the most tickets but I do know the penny ball was the subject of quite a competition.  In the end it was won by my daughter Anna who had bought only one ticket and then promptly gifted to my son Noah who had not only bought several of his own chances but conned his Great Aunts and Grandmother into buying some for him as well.

I am told that the raffle more than covered the expense of the food. As is tradition at a Hagen Family reunion, Eric, Paul, Rob and Mark brought out their guitars and songs were sung as the sun went down.

 The picnic was just one part of the reunion.  There was also a catered meal where, upon arrival, you were greeted in Norwegian by Aunt Elene and Aunt Marie regaled in authentic Norwegian costume. After lunch the 4 Aunts, Elene, Marie, Roseann (Mom) and Sonja answered questions and told stories of their life on the farm. Dessert consisted of traditional Norwegian Kransekake (wedding cake) and Fyrstekake (prince’s cake).  There was a table of Hagen family memorabilia that included wood burned pieces made by Herman Hagen to document hunting trips, photo albums and the Hagen family history book.  There was also a “laffle” (laugh therapy) led by my cousin Kevin.

Later in the evening several family members met at The Alibi tavern where hidden talents were discovered through lively karaoke participation. While the spirits were good, it was the Hagen spirit in each of us that made the evening memorable.   

The Aunts have made it known that they will not be planning another reunion, so like most traditions the duty is handed to the next generation. Much gets lost over the years and miles but there will always be something much stronger holding us together.  As we grow older I hope we will grow closer and allow the bond of the farm to pull us back to our roots. The farm is so much more than its physical existence.  It is a way of life. My cousin Kris aptly described it as “a wise Buddha nourished by the truth of its existence and the simple quality of being.”