Reflections: Norwegian Disease

It didn’t take long after arriving at the family cabin on Stalker Lake in Otter Tail County, Minnesota, for the entire family to come down with it. Catching what we referred to as Norwegian Disease, back in the day before political correctness, was anything but a problem and unlike other diseases was, in fact, a good thing. The only symptoms consisted of complete relaxation and sleepiness that necessitated an earlier-than-normal bedtime.

Never mind that my parents, my brother Gary, and I would leave our home in Lincoln, Nebraska, in the wee hours of the morning for the nine-hour trip to the cabin. Dad was always too excited to sleep and he wanted to spend as much of the drive as possible in the cool of the night, as our cars never had air conditioning. Mom and Dad always made the back seat of the car into a bed so Gary and I could sleep for at least the first few hours of the trip. If we had seat belts, I don’t remember using them anyway.

Norwegian Disease persisted for our entire stay at the cabin, which we spent mostly outside, including two fishing trips just about every day. We usually spent the mornings fishing vertically for panfish and we trolled crankbaits for walleyes after dinner. Dad didn’t like dealing with crossed lines and tangles at night, so we seldom fished much past sundown. A livebox at the end of the dock allowed us to avoid cleaning fish in the dark, so we could cap off our day at the Norway Beach Resort store, drinking pop, eating ice cream and candy, and visiting and playing cards with fellow cabin owners, resort guests, and area residents.

We were fortunate to end the day wiped out because sleeping conditions in the cabin when I was a kid were not great. My parents slept on the front porch in wooden bunk beds Dad constructed, while my brother and I slept in the cabin proper on metal Army surplus bunk beds. Like at home, Gary slept on top and I slept on the bottom. Our mattresses felt like lumpy bags of rags and came from the old Saint Elizabeth Hospital in Lincoln, where Grandpa worked in maintenance. The cabin was home for many things Grandpa rescued from the hospital. The best of his acquisitions was an old gurney. It has provided many a nap and is still used today to battle Norwegian Disease during the afternoon. The head end of the gurney can be adjusted for a just-right inclination, and wheels allow it to be rolled all around the yard, with each relocation associated with the best shade at that time of day.

Despite going to bed tired, I usually had enough strength to do a little reading under the covers with a flashlight before going to sleep. Since those days, there have been many improvements and additions to our Minnesota property that have increased living, storage, and sleeping space. A couple of things have not changed. I still sleep in the original cabin on the bottom bunk, usually with no one overhead. Admittedly, my bed is a double with a memory-foam mattress topper. And, I no longer use a flashlight to read, enjoying a lighted Kindle instead. Also unchanged are the natural, dark brown wooden interior walls and rafters of the original cabin, which have never been painted or covered.

Among the first things done on cabin remodeling shows on TV is to “brighten up the space.” I have refrained from doing this because I wanted to maintain the look of a 1930s vintage cabin. All of the decorations added by my grandparents and parents still grace the walls. In addition, back in the early 1940s, Grandpa rented out the cabin to non-family members. Some of those who stayed in the cabin were apparently more immune to Norwegian Disease than me and not content to just read before going to sleep. They felt a need to do some writing—on the cabin’s walls.

We’ve known for some time there was writing on the wall beside and above the head of my bed, but a more thorough search revealed four separate entries. The top one is over eight feet high, indicating it was probably done from a top bunk. My wife climbed a ladder and my son climbed on my bed and hung out from the top bunk with one arm to look at this one, which was somewhat unreadable. It appears that Tonie and Tonie’s parents stayed in the cabin on July 6, 1941. Farther down on the wall, we learned that Mr. and Mrs. Walt Squashingross of Porter, Minnesota, were there, as was Rita Jelin of St. Leo, Minnesota. Just above the head of my bed, six lines were written by an anonymous author as follows:

I love you mighty

I love you great

I wish your pajamas were next to

my nighty now don’t get excited or don’t

get mislead I mean on the clothesline &

not in bed

I wonder who that poem was written for. I hope it was not intended for my grandfather, father, or uncle!

In addition to that poem, my daughter found and photographed another literary contribution from a cabin guest on the other side of the cabin, only a couple of feet off the floor. It was written vertically, across the boards, indicating the author was in a prone position, likely in bed, and it was written in cursive with a pencil in a language other than English. Sarah tried to get it translated through friends who worked at historical museums, but the dark wood made photos of the writing too difficult to read.

This summer, while my son and daughter-in-law were at the cabin, I asked Diane to get down on the floor and try to transcribe the writing. I suggested she use a bright light and wet the wood. I’ve always found a little spit on an old coin makes the date and mint mark easier to read and thought the approach might help see the writing more clearly.

I sent Sarah’s photos of the writing and Diane’s transcription to the University of Minnesota’s German, Nordic, Slavic and Dutch Department, who put me in contact with Ingela Eilert Haaland of the American Swedish Institute. Ingela promptly informed me that the writing was Danish and translates to English as follows:

Gid det med Martin ville gå: If only it would with Martin go

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som det med Adam gick,: As it did with Adam,

at imens han lå og sov: That whilst he lay sleeping

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han sig en hustru fik.: He was given a wife.

This poem (the end of the second and fourth lines rhyme in Danish) apparently refers to Genesis 2:21 where God put Adam into a deep sleep while He created Eve. My wife thinks Martin’s mother was the author. I wonder who Martin was and how things worked out for him.

They say that when you get old, it is especially important to get enough sleep. I heed these recommendations seriously and even enjoy dozing in bed for a while after I wake up. When the curtains are pulled together and the shades are down, the cabin provides ideal conditions for dealing with a combination of Norwegian Disease and old age. Those beautiful brown walls and rafters provide a wonderful sight to look up at as I reflect on their history, end a day, succumb once again to Norwegian Disease, and enjoy darkness well into the next morning.

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Don Gabelhouse Jr. is a frequent contributor to the Reflections column. He’s former chief of fisheries for the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission and lives in Lincoln.

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