The days are swiftly passing and Christmas will soon be here.  Every family has traditions that instill memories.  Traditions often are ethnic related while others are as American as apple pie and hot dogs.

Irene Olson shared this Christmas story on KJ102 in 1999. A story Brad Dokken wrote about his Gramma Laura Johnson from Pinecreek Minnesota for the Grand Forks Herald in 1996.

“The old house is gone now, its foundation buried deep under the winter snow.  But the memories of Christmas spent in that two-story farmhouse with no indoor plumbing burn strong as ever.   Ah…what memories they are.

“For more than 75 years, that house tucked into an aspen grove in Roseau County, less than a mile from the Canadian border, was home to Kvien family Christmas celebrations.  From miles around the relatives came Kviens, Johnsons, and later, Dokkens—to celebrate Christmas cheer, to open presents around the spruce tree with its distinctive bubble lights, to eat like there was no tomorrow -turkey, lefse, mashed potatoes, lefse, meatballs, lefse, lutefisk, lefse, fattigman, rommegrot, fudge, pie, lefse.

Food always ranked right up there with the presents at these holiday celebrations.  Little wonder …one of the best cooks in Roseau County was at the stove, working her holiday magic.  Later she graduated to a gas range—the kind with a gas oven and four burners on one half and a wood stove on the other.

“She was Laura Johnson, my grandmother.  To some of the clan, she was “Auntie Laura”, to my sister, two brothers and me, she was “Gramma”; to all, she was remarkable.

“She celebrated her last Christmas in 1976 and even though her health was failing, she spent at least part of it in front of the stove.  She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Gramma always was a cook, from the time she was a young girl.  She cooked for threshers, schools, and restaurants over the years.  But she was at her best in front of the stove in that two-story farmhouse.

“A woman of true pioneer spirit, she did so much with so little.  Her recipes weren’t fancy-she probably didn’t follow recipes, for all I know-but that didn’t keep family members from coming back for more.  She had help, of course, especially in those later years, but Gramma always was the woman in control in her kitchen.

“The grown-ups would gather around the oak, claw-foot table, extended by two leafs that only came out for special occasions. The kids would eat at card tables in the entry and living room.  I suppose Gramma ate, too, but I can’t picture her at the table; I only see her at the stove.

Christmas wasn’t just a one-day event back then.  The visiting and the feasts carried over into the new year.  The food was hardly low-cal it was full of cream, butter, fat and all those other things that overzealous “food cops” detest in these modern times—but it sure was tasty.  I think of those days often now and, even though I’m not an old-timer yet, I’m old enough to realize I was part of something special, spending Christmas in that old two-story house.

“Christmas never tasted better than when Gramma, Aunty Laura, was at work in the kitchen.”