The story of Helge Welling
Harvest Celebration
Our annual harvest celebration was at the Skodborghus Inn, always nicely decorated with sheaves of grain and fresh dahlias and hollyhocks. First there was a potluck supper. Then the tables were cleared away for the dancing.
I recall my mother asking me to dance. The musicians played Den toppede høn––a three-person dance. Mom said "Come on, it's easy. We'll help you." Yes, it was easy but the music kept going and going. I was out of breath when it ended.
Time dragged as I sat on the bench, watching. The thick cigarette smoke, heat and noise made me sleepy, so I stretched out on the bench. The music seemed far away. I was nearly asleep. Suddenly, it was over. Walking home, I revived in the cold autumn air.
The Barn Loft
We stored straw and hay in our barn loft. We played there, even though the boards were rotten and could break. Once I fell through, landing on top of a startled cow. We both got up in a hurry. I had to calm her down. So I found another place to play.
Cars and Airplanes
My brother Arne and I became very absorbed in our play:
• Old baby carriage wheels were steering wheels for cars and trucks. We held onto them and "drove" all over. Our loud brrr brrr sounds matched the type of vehicle we were driving. Trucks made an incredible noise.
• We flew "airplanes," two crosspieces nailed onto a piece of wood. We ran along, lifting them up high or swooping down low, always making the proper sound effects. I named my airplane Svalen (The Swallow) but later changed it to Svanen (The Swan). With our planes we abandoned everything else.
Adapted from the 2007 Heritage Book,with permission from the Federation of Danish Associations in Canada
More Immigrant Stories:
• Helge's love of airplanes ends on the day of the invasion.
