C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
A frustratingly wet September became a bane for harvesters struggling to preserve quality and yield in their grain crops. Shorter days and increasingly colder nights compounded the grief. Farmers in the lighter land, or those who received less rain during the growing season, were fortunate to have the 'grain in the bin' by the end of August. However, vast acres of ripened wheat lay in swaths while fears of sprouting kernels became a realization.
A nasty blow for the hardy souls in “Next Year Country.”
When at last the overcast skies cleared, Jack Frost paid a brief but bitter visit that allowed gardeners to put away their tools for the season and provided adequate incentive for foliage to surrender its verdure to the brilliant hues of autumn. Flocks of white-fronted 'speckle-bellies' and Canada geese, sandhill cranes and a dozen species of ducks filled the skies with the timeless calls of the migrating flock. A host of warblers, sparrows and other summer resident birds of the boreal forest and parkland regions paused to visit the prairie farmyards on their long flight to a warmer climate.
Grassland thrived on the unexpected moisture. Grey prairie wool began to show renewed growth when encouraged by warmer temperatures in early October. Combines hurriedly gobbled up the swaths as the straw and grain became less 'tough'; fields of clipped yellow stubble served clear evidence of a harvest nearing completion.
The weekend of Thanksgiving maintained this warm trend. However, a stiff two day gale the previous week had stripped the colourful deciduous trees. Their grotesque skeletal limbs now stood rigid and paralysed in dormancy; a prelude to severe days ahead.
Sven and Vera had chosen this time for their wedding. A quiet affair, the Milto family were guests of the groom; Robert being Sven's best man. Vera had invited Val and Danny Reid, Val stood up as Vera's maid-of-honour. The group had journeyed to the city for the occasion and they took rooms at the commodious and elegant Duchess Hotel.
The Norwegian farm hand who usually presented a gruff and impervious façade revealed the tenderness within as a justice of the peace performed the simple ceremony in a small chamber at City Hall. Two large alligator tears coursed down Sven's ruddy cheeks and Robert Milto placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Vera's face radiated happiness and tears of joy filled her brown eyes too as she took Sven's hand and together they repeated the vows.
A private supper for the wedding party was held in a small banquet room of the hotel. In honour of Sven's heritage, Robert and Danny had gone to great lengths to procure a genuine Norwegian chef to prepare the meal. Both Sven and Vera were delighted by their thoughtfulness. Sven's nose detected the lutefisk before it was served; his lop-sided grin erupted into a full smile as the strong odour pervaded the banquet room. Stacks of lefse, slices of fenalor, and the pungent gammelost ?Norwegian brown cheese? along with strips of delicious smoked salmon were washed down with bayer. For dessert, the caterer made dainty rosettes and a crispy crepe, Sven called krumkaka, stuffed with whipped cream. Sven's normal reticence diminished with the courses of the meal. He expounded upon the culinary treasures as each arrived at the table, explaining that such a feast would only have been plausible during Jul, a Viking celebration pre-dating Christianity, but modified in more recent centuries to adapt to the Christmas theme.
Danny Reid offered a toast to the bride; the wedding guests were touched by Sven's emotional response. Impromptu master of ceremonies, Robert Milto, recited several amusing anecdotes concerning the hired hand. The rancher allowed that he had wondered, but never guessed, where Sven disappeared to on those evenings when the hired hand had driven away in one of the ranch trucks. “I thought he was off to town to visit with Stan Olsen. Maybe they were making plans, over a keg of Norwegian bayer, to go into the pit BBQ business on a bigger scale.”
Good naturedly, Danny chided Vera for being able to withhold the affair from him as he had had ample opportunity to eaves-drop. He mentioned that the occasional faint aroma of tobacco smoke in Vera's kitchen caused him to speculate but did not make a connection to Sven. The lineman then proposed a second toast to the clandestine romance having been a well kept secret.
The Larsons spent a one night honeymoon in the luxurious hotel. The Reids and Miltos had rooms at the Duchess as well and together the small wedding party travelled back to Stockton the next day.
For the time being, Vera intended to keep her home in town and Sven would stay on at the ranch. Vera's job as telephone operator would be ending in less than a year as the new dial telephones were already being installed in many of the rural areas; automatic call switching would soon be a reality. Danny's job would not change significantly except he would lose the professional assistance and assessment Vera provided when solving line problems. Sven and Vera agreed that Stockton would eventually be their retirement choice so the 'Mitchell' house would serve them both when Sven decided to give up his ranching duties. Vera loved the ranch life and intended to spend her free time with her husband. Both agreed the bunkhouse suited them quite well.
Two weeks into their marriage, late on a Saturday afternoon, Sven and Vera were fixing their supper when a horrendous cacophony erupted outside the bunkhouse. Sven pulled back a frilly lace curtain and blanched white to see a stream of vehicles pouring down the driveway toward his house. The cars in the lead branched to the left and began to circle the low single story home in a clockwise fashion; these soon encountered the continuing onslaught of new arrivals creating a traffic jamb never before imagined in the Stockton area; vehicles then began to form a second ring around the house. Car horns were blaring, hands thumped the sides of automobiles and several pickups loaded with revellers banging loudly on pots and pans increased the din. Milt's dog, Chase, was going wild, barking furiously amid the confusion.
Sven dropped the curtain and turned hesitantly to his new bride, “Jah! What the…” he croaked, aghast.
Vera had her hand to her mouth, laughing so hard she couldn't speak, leaning on the table for support. She finally collapsed in a chair, her limp hand listlessly pointing at Sven. His look of shocked disbelief sent Vera into convulsions of mirth again. The noise increased outside and finally Vera, tears streaming down her face, gasped a single word: “Shivaree!”
Sven's craggy face reflected his bewilderment, bringing on more sobs of laughter from Vera. She explained between hiccups, “All our friends and neighbours are demanding we hold a wedding dance, Sven. Shivaree is an old tradition, but I haven't heard of such a thing happening in years.”
A thumping sounded on the roof and Sven said, “Jah! Now they are on top of the howess too.”
“Another old custom,” Vera giggled. “They'll block the chimney, threatening to smoke us out; good thing there is no fire in the stove today.”
“We'll have to face them, Sven,” she said. “If we don't, they won't quit, and if we refuse to have a dance, they won't go home. Then if we say we'll have a dance and don't follow up, they'll be back again, and again, until we do.”
“Jah, well, we can have a dance,” Sven agreed readily.
So, together Sven and Vera opened the door and emerged on the cement slab that served as a front step. The noise died down eventually as echoes of the last rattle, clang, bang and whistle faded. Leonard Yeast, self-appointed spokesperson, stepped forward. “Sven, Vera,” he said. “It seems as you two forgot about having a dang wedding dance… so… being good friends and neighbours, we took it upon ourselves to come on over and jog your memories a little.”
Sven's weathered cheeks blushed a deeper shade as he nervously faced the boisterous group, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down while he tried unsuccessfully to find his voice. Vera dabbed at her eyes and said, “We give up! You'll have your dance.”
A chorus of whistles, hoots and cheers went up and someone shouted, “When, Vera?”
Vera looked at Sven and the troubled Norwegian finally managed two words: “Tonight! Jah!”
Vera borrowed the Milto's phone to call Jean Hatt, her cross-shift operator. “Put through a General, please, Jean. Sven and I were honoured with a shivaree; we are having our wedding dance tonight at Prairie Hills School.” She looked down at her cotton house dress. “And, tell everyone it's 'come as you are!'”
Though Sven's abrupt decision to have the wedding dance that very evening caught folks flat footed, in true country fashion the event went over with the happy fervour that so often accompanies spontaneity. The ladies had no time for glamour. Those who lived nearby were assisted by the more distant friends, who weren't able to return home, in throwing together a banquet of assorted open face buns and sandwiches. There was no provision for baking so cookie jars were emptied, frozen desserts and whatever was available to hand appeared from pantries, larders and ice-boxes. The assortment appeared in appetizing array on the ping-pong table at Prairie Hills alongside the two huge coffee urns which belonged to the school-cum-hall. Most of the men were still in their work clothes. No one appeared in their Sunday best.
The same impromptu band that had played at Prairie Hills the night of Pete Liscombe's auction supplied the music for this dance although the man of the hour yielded his fiddle to Fred Moffat who could 'saw' a pretty good tune. Fred was accompanied by Ben on the guitar, Leonard Yeast picking up the banjo and Connie Milto on the piano. During a break in the dancing, while everyone gathered around the bountifully laden table, Brenda Yeast, Val Reid, and Milt Milto, with Ben Collins playing the guitar, sang Love Me Tender and Welcome to My World, a special tribute to the newlyweds.
The Miller twins had packed along Sven's friend Stan Olson to share in the Norwegian's wedding celebration. Many trips were made outside the hall where Stan had stashed a prodigious supply of his homemade chokecherry wine; Sven treated every man to at least one shot of the nectar. Several of the gentlemen, including Stan, had almost a few too many, but the revellers simply became more boisterous and remained harmless.
While Sven escaped the throng to treat his friends, Vera wasn't allowed to miss a dance though her feet were beginning to grow tired and sore. Along with many of the other ladies, she finally kicked off her shoes and danced in her nylon-stockinged feet.
The party continued into the wee hours and a second luncheon took place. Sven brought coffee and a sandwich to his bride who had taken the opportunity to sit down.
Someone had volunteered a pretty dried flower arrangement for the bride and the traditional lady's garter appeared from somewhere for the groom. The new couple were led to the front of the room and all the unwed young ladies were lined up facing them. Vera turned her back and tossed the bouquet among the crowd of single girls. Everyone clapped and cheered when the flowers were caught by Brenda Yeast. Next came the eligible bachelors and Sven stretched out the garter, letting it fly toward the group. Shaun Miller made the catch but slipped the garter to Ben Collins so fast it appeared to have burned his fingers. According to folklore, Brenda and Ben would be the next in line at the altar.
Milt passed near Benny and said, “You better buy that engagement ring pretty soon!”
Sven and Vera were ushered into the centre of the dance floor; all the guests joined hands in a circle around them, singing “For They are Jolly Good Fellows” while alternately raising their hands and stepping toward the couple then lowering them as they stepped back.
Earlier, Benny's Stetson had been passed around surreptitiously as the traditional collection was taken for the newly-weds. Robert Milto was deeply touched to witness the generosity of these literally dirt poor country folk as they dipped into nearly empty pockets to give a little. Leonard Yeast presented the cash to the new couple and Sven, overwhelmed by the largesse of his friends, again found difficulty in speech. He cleared his throat twice before finally managing to speak and an emotional catch could be heard in his voice. “Jah, ve are very thankful to you all for being the friends and neighbours ve have enjoyed for all these so many years.” He held the hat, loaded with silver, pennies and more than a few bills. “This is very kind for you.” He glanced at his bride who beamed with pride at Sven. She knew how difficult being the centre of attention was for him. “Vera and I, ve could like to keep this money for you, our friends… so,” he beckoned to Constance Milto, “so, ve give it back for the long time of the country school.” He handed the hat to Connie and the circle applauded enthusiastically.
The clock in the big kitchen of the Milto ranch house said it was almost time to get up when the family trooped in. Sven and Vera accompanied them, accepting Robert and Connie's invitation for a night cap. A tuckered out Milt hugged her mom and dad and bade a good night to the guests as she headed for the stairs up to her room.
Vera sighed. “She looks as tired as I feel.”
Connie offered to heat some water and Epsom salts for the older woman to soak her feet but Vera declined.
As the rancher poured a dark liqueur into four small glasses, Connie offered Vera and Sven their guest room for the remainder of the short night. Vera's astonishment echoed in her protest as she said, “But our house is only across the yard.”
“I think your bed may be in turmoil though. Some of the ladies were talking….”
“That Myrna Yeast, I'll bet,” Vera said. “What did she do, the little scallywag?”
“Well, I think they short sheeted your bed and I heard mention of corn flakes as well.”
Vera groaned and Sven chortled.
Robert Milto pointed out that one of the Miller twins had placed a cream separator bowl over the chimney and advised that the fire not be lit before the obstruction could be removed.
Sven insisted on going home so Connie pulled fresh sheets and blankets from the linen closet and sent the bundle with them.
“You can have the day off tomorrow… today,” Robert Milto said with a tired smile.
…Vera Mitchell married Sven Larson in the late '60's. They went off to the city for a quiet ceremony but upon their return the whole community turned out for an old-fashioned 'shivaree'. We must have been quite forceful in our insistence for they held a dance at Prairie Hills Hall that very evening…
Submitted by Myrna Yeast
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