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  • Photography
  • Blogs
    • Early Morning Photo Philosophy
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    • The Boreal Carver Presents
  • About Me
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Making new memories with my nieces, 39 years later at the Islendingadagurinn

The beginning still looking refreshed. Edith, Olivia, Dilla, Julia - 3 generations ready to be in the parade.

What happens when you want to re-create your 1975 self with your younger sister? She refuses and you have to go to Plan B.

Fortunately I have a willing niece (my sister's daughter Julia) who saved the day and joined me in a whole lot of fun at the Islendingadagurinn (Icelandic Festival) parade on August 4, 2014. And my other niece, (my brother's daughter Olivia), came along and added some spice to our entry in the parade.

In 1975 the festival was celebrating 100 years since the Icelanders came to Canada and settled in the Interlake region of Manitoba. I was 12 and Peggy was 10. We were in Gimli for the holidays and our aunt Dilla had been planning for us to be in the parade dressed as little Icelandic girls pulling the wagon from the farm (which was ancient then) with a sign that said,

We are so glad you came to Canada 100 years ago
The heritage of both worlds has helped as we grow.

I know - TOO CUTE! Little did I remember what kind of a planner my aunt is and how a simple phrase said last year on a visit during the festival would set in motion a full-year planning cycle for this year's festival. Last year we found out that the festival was celebrating 125 years (for the festival, not the Icelanders settling in Canada) and I said to Peggy, with Dilla present, we should go in the parade again. Peggy refused and Dilla started planning. By the time I left Gimli last summer she already had a black skirt I could wear for part of the costume.

One side view of the wagon and the 1975 picture of me and Peggy.

And that was just the beginning...

Phone calls, letters started happening. Had I booked enough places for all of our families to stay (4 siblings plus spouses, plus children, we are a crowd!)? She would go down and check a few out and let me know. She thought she could get one of the Icelandic costumes from Shelley (cousin) for Julia but I would have to put something together for myself (YIKES - sewing is not my thing). Had I thought of what we would decorate with? Would we get the wagon from the farm? Did it even exist anymore? This from an 85 turning 86 (now) aunt. She was relentless and I was beginning to panic.

By late February she had sent me a package with mock-ups of the panels for the vest and instructions on how to add silver threading for the decorative part of the costume. I knew I was in serious trouble. I needed HELP.

On top of that, she included the original letter she wrote to us in 1975 with her plans then. How she was sewing our costumes, had we been measured yet, what should we have on the wagon, etc. etc. 1975 and 2014 were eerily similar. I needed a strategy.

I contacted the Edmonton chapter of the Icelandic National League, of which I am a member. Joedy Englesby, President of the Club, SAVED the day. When I asked if they had any costumes I could "borrow", she responded with a resounding "YES they had plenty. Just pop by when in Edmonton to check them out and I would be on my way." Several months later I ended up in Edmonton, met Joedy at the club and found the perfect fit with all the trimmings (hat, belt, apron, shirt). I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. I knew sewing the costume or having it made was a feat I was not capable of completing.

Next on the agenda were the wagon decorations. I decided getting posters made with pictures of 1975 and the present with the saying would be the easiest until I went looking for that letter Dilla sent with the original wording. Do you think I could find that letter? And do you think I could remember the whole saying? The first sentence looped in my brain and nothing else. The dreaded email to Dilla had to happen. I had to ask her if she remembered the whole saying. If you have any Icelandic aunts you will know what kind of a response you are going to get.  The automatic rebuke came back - "I sent you the letter with that included, where is it?" she asked. The search was on and at the 11th hour I found the letter.

Now on to Gimli. My idea of decorating and my husband's are 2 different things. I was sure the posters were enough, but the now almost 100 year old wagon (probably built by my great Uncle Mundi) needed serious reinforcements to carry the structure to attach the posters. And he wanted to decorate it as well with balloons, streamers, Icelandic flags. I left him at Dilla's place in the woodworking shop doing that task 2 days before the parade while I gathered the candy to hand out and searched for blue, white, red streamers. If you know me, this would be my least favourite part. I wouldn't decorate for my own wedding, why would anyone think I would be up for this! Martha Stewart NOT!

Look at the wheels on this wagon - amazing how it has stood the test of time. Uncle Mundi made things to last!

Countless hours of manual labour and more than $200 in expenses later there we were walking the route of the parade. The crowds were lined up along the streets. We left the starting point pulling a wagon that I was sure was going to collapse along the way.

But like the Icelanders before us it stood the test of time - we do come from sturdy stock. We made it with the wagon intact and we managed to relax, have fun and put smiles on the faces of the young and old alike. 

Thanks to my aunt, 39 years ago we won 1st prize in our category for the parade (I think they made one up just for us) and we were $25 richer - an enormous amount for us and to this day Peggy and I can still remember how it felt to be richer beyond our wildest dreams in the summer of '75. I know from current experience that my aunt was definitely poorer in cash but she taught us how putting effort and time into anything yields rewards beyond wealth.

And in 2014, thanks to Dilla, I realized how lucky I am to have people in my life who want to share in the load of getting things done so I can participate and make memories of a lifetime. So thank you Dilla, Pat, Shelley, Clifford and anyone else who helped make our entry possible.

Most of all THANK YOU to my awesome nieces, Julia and Olivia for joining me in making new memories and continuing the tradition of getting involved in our heritage. I love you all. 

And Peggy joins us at the end. Edith, Peggy, Olivia, Julia.

Islendingadagurinn Parade Pictures 2014
Islendingadagurinn Parade Pictures 2014

Olivia, Julia, Edith, before the parade begins.

 Olivia & Julia - the 2 nieces

Olivia & Julia - the 2 nieces

 Uncle Oli & Aunt Marge - dignitaries in the parade.

Uncle Oli & Aunt Marge - dignitaries in the parade.

 Cameron Arnason - President of the Islendingadagurinn and Janice Arnason, Past-President (cousins of mine).

Cameron Arnason - President of the Islendingadagurinn and Janice Arnason, Past-President (cousins of mine).

 Gimli Chapter of the Icelandic National League parade participants. Dilla will be on the float.

Gimli Chapter of the Icelandic National League parade participants. Dilla will be on the float.

 Dilla (middle) on the float.

Dilla (middle) on the float.

 Parade participant.

Parade participant.

 Just getting started - we are still looking refreshed.

Just getting started - we are still looking refreshed.

 Julia handing out candy.

Julia handing out candy.

 How did I get stuck pulling the wagon?

How did I get stuck pulling the wagon?

 Olivia, the viking warrior, carrying candy - somehow that doesn't fit.

Olivia, the viking warrior, carrying candy - somehow that doesn't fit.

 Our fan base!

Our fan base!

 And more of our fan base.

And more of our fan base.

 Lisa and Denise - more of our fan base!

Lisa and Denise - more of our fan base!

 Taking a break from the wagon.

Taking a break from the wagon.

 Olivia's turn!

Olivia's turn!

 My great-niece and nephew - too cute!

My great-niece and nephew - too cute!

 Julia and me at the end - still walking on our own two feet.

Julia and me at the end - still walking on our own two feet.

 Olivia catches a ride to the end - what is up with that?

Olivia catches a ride to the end - what is up with that?

  The 2014 Icelandic Festival of Manitoba Fjallkona, Hedy Bjornson, being escorted into the park. The Fjallkona "Lady of the Mountain", is the female incarnation (national personification) of Iceland. 

The 2014 Icelandic Festival of Manitoba Fjallkona, Hedy Bjornson, being escorted into the park. The Fjallkona "Lady of the Mountain", is the female incarnation (national personification) of Iceland. 

Islendingadagurinn Parade Pictures 2014  Olivia & Julia - the 2 nieces  Uncle Oli & Aunt Marge - dignitaries in the parade.  Cameron Arnason - President of the Islendingadagurinn and Janice Arnason, Past-President (cousins of mine).  Gimli Chapter of the Icelandic National League parade participants. Dilla will be on the float.  Dilla (middle) on the float.  Parade participant.  Just getting started - we are still looking refreshed.  Julia handing out candy.  How did I get stuck pulling the wagon?  Olivia, the viking warrior, carrying candy - somehow that doesn't fit.  Our fan base!  And more of our fan base.  Lisa and Denise - more of our fan base!  Taking a break from the wagon.  Olivia's turn!  My great-niece and nephew - too cute!  Julia and me at the end - still walking on our own two feet.  Olivia catches a ride to the end - what is up with that?   The 2014 Icelandic Festival of Manitoba Fjallkona, Hedy Bjornson, being escorted into the park. The Fjallkona "Lady of the Mountain", is the female incarnation (national personification) of Iceland. 
tags: Icelandic, Islendingadagurinn, festival, parade, 2014
categories: General Eruptions of Thought/Opinions
Sunday 08.17.14
Posted by Edith Mackenzie
Comments: 2
 

When 50th birthday parties collide with culture...OR...Watch what you say to your "friends".

Let the party begin!
Let the party begin!

I recently turned 50 and my "friends" made sure I started celebrating early. For the past 15 years or more we have been surprising each other with 40th birthdays and now on to 50th celebrations. We upped the ante for the 50th's and "kidnapped" each other, taking the birthday girl to exotic locales like San Francisco, Canmore, Lloydminster (that's a whole other post) and back to Canmore for mine. My birthday was June 30th, but I got kidnapped for the long weekend in May. After the 40th they sprung on me you would think I would be a lot more suspecting. Apparently not. I did have a twinge of doubt back in February when a friend booked me for the Thursday before the long weekend but she quickly made me feel guilty for being suspicious and I threw that thought out of my mind. So there I was completely surprised when I walked into the Hotel MacDonald lounge to see my group of friends already enjoying a cocktail and I knew the party was just beginning.

Out came a costume for me to wear - a wonderfully green leprechaun outfit. Why this costume? Because I had always wanted to do a walking trip in Ireland. They wanted me to believe that we would be heading to the airport the next day to do just that. They didn't confiscate my cell phone so I was able to make an emergency call to my husband while in the toilet stall and find out if my passport was still at home. It was and so I could relax knowing that I wasn't going on an impromptu trip to Ireland.

I learned from all our other surprise birthday parties that I had a part in planning and enjoying to go with the flow. Do whatever they tell you and put a smile on your face. It takes the "starch" right out of them and really, you don't want to miss out on a great party.

After making a pit stop at the airport the next morning so they could try and make me believe we were going to Ireland, we headed to Canmore for a fun-filled weekend with costume changes and challenges for me. Friday I was dressed in my dirndl with a blond braided wig and a viking helmut to complete the outfit. I was paraded around town as we grocery-shopped and picked up the "spirits" for the festivities. My highlight were the Girl Guides at the local Sobey's who asked if I had come in a time machine. Too cute!

Did I come here in a time machine?
Did I come here in a time machine?

I was a good sport (too good apparently, my friends wanted to see me "sweat" a little bit) and I aced all the challenges. We all had our laughs along the way. The best laughs (at me) happened when I did the fitness challenge at the outdoor gym in the park while wearing my dirndl. I used the piece of equipment backwards (what happens when you have a time-limit for your event!) and ended up flat on my back while "friends" laughed and took photos BEFORE coming to my aid.

Our last evening and last costume change is where I learned to be careful about what I tell people and where I want to set the record straight. If my "friends" had been listening to me over the years they would have known that I and my little sister, Peggy, always wanted to be the "maids" of the Fjallkona. Growing up we had been to numerous Islendingadagurinn's (Icelandic Festival) in Gimli, Manitoba, and the Fjallkona (Maid of the Mountain) represented Iceland at the festival. The Fjallkona is a woman who sits on an elevated throne wearing a white gown, green robe with ermine, golden belt, high-crowned headdress and white veil. The maids were two young women dressed in white, usually chosen because they were the nieces of the Fjallkona for that year. Peggy and I always wanted to be those maidens. When our Aunt Dilla was finally selected as Fjallkona in 1994, we were 31 and 29 and even though we may not have been "maidens" in the traditional sense - we still thought we should have been the maids because we were the youngest of Dilla's nieces. Dilla chose differently and selected two grand-nieces for the job. We still feel robbed!

Fjallkona NOT!
Fjallkona NOT!

So what happens when your 50th birthday and culture collide - a horrible representation of some unknown cross between a vampire and bride of the dead. Fjallkona NOT! And they missed the mark. I wanted to be a MAID in her pretty white dress, white gloves (they used to wear those when we were small) and white shoes attending the Maid of the Festival. Once again, I feel robbed. I did get an appreciation for the Fjallkona in her green robe with ermine that she wears in the heat of August. At menopausal 50 anything "velvet" and fur is a cruel thing to make someone wear. I don't know how the Fjallkona managed to wear hers in the heat and still look regal. I just look like some scruffy stray.

The moral of this story? Be careful what you say to your friends and if you do tell them something that may come back to haunt you - make sure you send them pictures to illustrate. Don't leave it up to their imagination!

Lastly - enjoy every moment. No matter how far off the mark they are, the fact that you have friends who plan a surprise for months is the greatest gift of all. Friends who know how to have fun, to help you laugh at yourself and to be there to celebrate life are the best friends to have. Thank you to all my friends.

And wait until your 60th's ....click on the audio clip.  

http://www.payer.de/kommkulturen/kultur0413.wav

(Be very afraid....)

The real Fjallkona (Maxine Ingalls) and her maids in the 2013 Islendingadagurinn's (Icelandic Festival) Parade.

http://vimeo.com/72593674?utm_source=email&utm_medium=clip-transcode_complete-finished-20120100&utm_campaign=7701&email_id=Y2xpcF90cmFuc2NvZGVkfDM4NjljOGI3MGY3OWY0YmFmYjAwOGU1NTAyZTc3NzNiMjY2fDQ1MTA2Mzl8MTM3NjgzOTU5MQ%3D%3D

tags: 50, birthday, canmore, Festival, fjallkona, friends, Icelandic, party
categories: General Eruptions of Thought/Opinions
Sunday 08.18.13
Posted by Edith Mackenzie
Comments: 2
 

Stories from Gimli

Gimli Viking Statue
Gimli Viking Statue

I spent my summer vacations going to Gimli, Manitoba where my mother had been born and raised (here is where my aunt would correct me - she was born and raised on Víðivöllum, a farm about 6 miles from Gimli). We drove from Southern Ontario to Manitoba which was usually a 3 day trip.  This trip was agonizing as a child, a child who couldn't wait to be there and even worse, stuffed in the backseat with 3 siblings. When we got to the farm we spilled out of that car to be greeted by our Afi (grandfather), great Uncle Mundi, Uncle Oli, Aunt Gwen, usually Aunt Dilla and whoever else was on the farm upon our arrival. Being the youngest of 17 grandchildren, we were showered with attention and then left to explore and tag along to the barn, the beach and town.

The highlight of our summer was the Islendingadagurinn(the Icelandic Festival) that happened the long weekend in August. Back then it was a 1 day festival that started with a parade, had a program in the park, rides, races, food and every relative in one place. Our aunts and uncles would give us money to spend and because we were the youngest, our older cousins would often pay our way on the rides. I still remember the joy of counting our money before the festival and then after, discovering that we had more money than we started with! We thought we had hit the mother-lode and Gimli became a true place of plenty.

This year I made the trek back to visit. Having turned 50 this year it was more important than ever to get to Gimli. As I age, so do all of my aunts and uncles and "cousins by the dozens". I went 2 years ago with my mom - her last time trip home, and I realized then how important it is to get "home" and be with the people you love. Home really is where the heart is and for as much as I have fond memories of Gimli, it is my relatives that made it such a special place. Being with them, sharing with them, listening to them builds the "DNA" of our souls that gets passed on from generation to generation. We discover what makes us human, what our heritage is and how each generation adds to the "flavour" that makes us all connected and at the same time unique.

We had a wonderful visit with my Aunt Marge and Uncle Oli while we were there - Oli being my mom's only brother and a favourite of all his sisters, 4 who are still living (including my mom). Our family are great story-tellers and Oli told us a wonderful story of how an accordion from Iceland came into the family in 1930. I wanted to share this story with you, to share part of our family "DNA". The video is about 5 minutes and it includes some good music - get ready to do some toe-tapping and just enjoy the ride. After all, you are family too - part of the large "human family" that makes me feel at "home" wherever I go.

http://vimeo.com/72118830?utm_source=email&utm_medium=clip-transcode_complete-finished-20120100&utm_campaign=7701&email_id=Y2xpcF90cmFuc2NvZGVkfGUyYTUzODIyN2EzZTE4ZmIwNjJjM2NiYWRmNGQ1ZmM0MTU2fDQ1MTA2Mzl8MTM3NjE4NTc4Ng%3D%3D

tags: accordion, Dilla, Festival, Gimli, Iceland, Icelandic, Oli, stories
categories: General Eruptions of Thought/Opinions
Sunday 08.11.13
Posted by Edith Mackenzie
Comments: 4
 

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