Every now and again, I make an attempt to learn the Norwegian language. I have decided it is time to make a serious effort for several reasons, but mostly because I am envious of people who have that connection to their heritage.
        Stopping in for lunch at a Greek festival last weekend, I watched as a group of young people, natives of Greece and presumably around my age, conversed excitedly with an older woman who had earlier entertained the crowd by singing in Greek. From what I could tell the two parties were strangers, but they seemed to interact like a family.
    Surrounded by all of that cultural pride and the connections it inspires, I again felt it was time to dig out the Norwegian English dictionary.
    My mother was just a baby, the only one out of her five siblings to be born in the country, when my grandmother and grandfather left Norway for the United States. My grandfather was in the Norwegian navy and he moved to the U.S. with my American grandmother to live in the “land of opportunity,” as my mother would say.       
    When I was in middle school, my immediate family and I traveled to Norway to visit my mother’s numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. More recently, some of  “the Norwegians’” – our affectionate term for our long distance relatives– paid a visit to Maine.
    During their stay at my parents’ house, I remember listening to my second cousin Kjersti speak in Norwegian to her young son and daughter and the inflection of her voice at the end of each sentence that made it sound to me that she was constantly asking questions.
    After they left, I found myself inadvertently replacing yes and no with “ja” and “nei.”
    From my own research and their visits, I have managed to retain a few words, but nothing that would get me very far beyond the kitchen table. For example, I know the words for thank you, you’re welcome and thank you for the food. I also know the word for plate and when December comes around, I know God Jul means Merry Christmas.
    During our visit to my great aunt’s home just outside of the capital city Oslo, I remember how happy Kjersti’s daughter, Kathinka, was to share with us a song she had learned in school.  I can’t remember the name of the song, but I recall she sang in perfect English.
    With “the Norwegians” planning another trip to Maine, tentatively scheduled for next summer, perhaps I could translate a popular American song into Norwegian. Then again, maybe my time would be better spent learning some useful phrases like, “Hello, it’s good to see you again.”