Tracker Pixel for Entry

A Child’s Christmas in Fargo

Last Word | December 19th, 2018


by Gary Olson
olsong@moravian.edu

It’s mid-December and as wintery conditions and the Christmas holidays approach, I’m reminded of a story my mother told me about my Norwegian grandmother. In December 1882, as a sixteen-year-old, my Grandma Emma traveled a considerable distance on XC skis from her rural village to the port city of Bergen. Alone and with only a backpack, she had to leave her new Christmas gift skis at the dock before boarding ship for the perilous transatlantic crossing to America, never to see her home or family again. Like so many poor immigrants, she was only allowed entry to the United States after signing a labor contract. After serving her time as an indentured servant to a wealthy family in Sauk Center, Minnesota, she met and married a lumberjack who’d also emigrated from Norway. They raised seven children, one of whom became my mother. 

Now, fast forward 74 years to mid-December, 1956. My hometown of Fargo, North Dakota just had a big winter storm. As I watched enviously from our living room window, several of my school friends came kicking and gliding down the snow covered street on their cross-country skis. At the time there was nothing I wanted more for Christmas than XC skis but with my dad out of work again I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

A few days later, I was snooping around my parent’s bedroom —as kids will do — and came upon a cardboard box of S&H Green Stamp books. In the 1950s, many people saved S & H Green Stamps which customers received from purchases at gas stations, supermarkets, and other participating retailers. After accumulating enough stamps, they could be redeemed for items from the extensive Green Stamp catalog. The catalog in the box had two pages folded back, one showing CX skis and the other a record player. My parents loved to listen to music but their old RCA Victor Victrola had given up the ghost and they couldn’t afford to replace it. I also saw that their accumulated stamp books weren’t sufficient to obtain either item.

The day before Christmas I came home from school to discover a long narrow package under the Christmas tree bearing a tag “To Gary, From Santa.” After feeling the round end of the package I called my friends and assured them I’d be skiing with them on Christmas Day! I was relieved because we always phoned one another on Christmas morning to ask “What did you get?” This was invariably a painful and humiliating experience because after hearing about new puppies, tickets to Disneyland and elaborate train sets, I’d mumble “Some socks, marbles, earmuffs and an orange” and quickly change the subject. This year would be different.

Early Christmas morning I rushed to the living room and while my parents watched, I fell to ripping off the wrapping paper on my package. To my consternation, there was only one XC ski. While trying to make sense of this, my mom brightly said, “Gary, we could only afford one ski this year but we promise to get you the other one next Christmas.” Crushed, I wanted to cry but didn’t. I barely noticed that the only gift under the tree for my parents was a poorly wrapped sugar scoop that I’d soldered together in my metal shop class.

Six months later my dad suddenly died of a heart attack; money became even harder to come by and the next Christmas we were lucky to have a small, scrawny tree. I got another pair of mittens, Chinese checkers and an orange. Again, I experienced the dreaded telephone ritual. Later, I silently cursed the unfairness of being born into this situation. 

The next Fall I got a newspaper route delivering The Fargo Forum and by Christmas, I’d saved enough to buy the other ski. On the day before Christmas, I went down to the big department store on Broadway, made a beeline for the sports section, picked out the matching ski, poles and glide wax and headed for the checkout counter. But just as the clerk was about to ring up my order, something made me hesitate and I reluctantly returned all the items to the shelf. 

On Christmas morning, I got an orange, a tiny racing car and, socks in my stocking. My mom was surprised to find a present under the tree with her name on it and even more surprised to find it was a new record player. Was I a pre-naturally perspicacious, good-hearted kid? No. I was still bitter about my situation and retained mixed feelings about my decision. But perhaps my parents’ example was lodged somewhere in my subconscious and I vaguely sensed it was the right thing to do.

In any event, in 1992, my elderly mother died and my brother and I hired an auctioneer to sell off the modest contents of the house, as well as the house itself. Late in the sale and almost as an afterthought, the auctioneer held up one shabby looking, wooden XC ski. I was the sole bidder and bought it for $1.00. As I write this in 2018, that ski adorns the wall of my study. 

A few years ago I was idly browsing on Etsy’s for vintage children’s skis and to my utter amazement came upon the match for my childhood ski. I quickly made a solid bid but upon an hour’s reflection, I canceled it. I can’t be certain but I want to believe it was because I was grateful Grandma Emma had two skis and I only had one.

RECENTLY IN

Last Word

Tracker Pixel for Entry NewSalem2 Tracker Pixel for Entry Bismarck1 Tracker Pixel for Entry 7Clans Tracker Pixel for Entry FarmToTable Tracker Pixel for Entry NewSalem1B Tracker Pixel for Entry NewSalem1C

Recently in:

By Winona LaDukewinona@winonaladuke.comIt’s been eight years since the Water Protectors were cleared off the banks of the Cannonball and Missouri Rivers. It was a bitter ending to a battle to protect the water; and for most of us…

By Sabrina Hornungsabrina@hpr1.com Rodeo is a family tradition for sisters Kate and Tera Flitton. The duo performs under the moniker Stellar Trick Riding Cowgirls. The Utah natives will be performing along with bareback riders,…

On view through March 31215 N. 3rd St, Grand ForksThe Equal Rights Association (ERA NOW), Arts for Vets, and the Women’s Fund have joined forces in hosting an art exhibition in celebration of International Women’s Day. The 2025…

By Sabrina Hornungsabrina@hpr1.com I feel like reading a newspaper is the equivalent of listening to music on vinyl. Not only is it analog, it’s an experience. I might be a little biased, but there's something about the rustling…

By Ed Raymondfargogadfly@gmail.comLennon: “Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can!”On January 8, 2025, Timothy W. Rybeck of “The Atlantic" magazine published “How Hitler Dismantled a Democracy in 53 Days” with the…

By Rick Gionrickgion@gmail.com Holiday wine shopping shouldn’t have to be complicated. But unfortunately it can cause unneeded anxiety due to an overabundance of choices. Don’t fret my friends, we once again have you covered…

By Rick Gionrickgion@gmail.com The below zero temperatures endured this recent January and February were a motivator to find something fun and interesting to do to lift the spirits. (Insert blue, teeth-chattering emoji here.) To…

Mooncats and Pert Near Sandstone play Empire TheatreBy Sabrina Hornungsabrina@hpr1.comThe MoonCats describe themselves as “Americonscious Campfire Folk.” They have a clear acoustic folk sound with a sense of whimsy — think…

By Greg Carlsongregcarlson1@gmail.comBong Joon-ho’s highly anticipated follow-up to the game-changing Oscar-winner “Parasite” was set to arrive in theaters last year, but the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike pushed the date. Was the…

By Sabrina Hornungsabrina@hpr1.comTelling Queer History is an LGBTQIA+ organization that utilizes oral storytelling and community building to educate, honor and collect oral histories. To honor its final year in operation, the …

By John Showalterjohn.d.showalter@gmail.comHigh Plains Reader had the opportunity to interview two mysterious new game show hosts named Milt and Bradley Barker about an upcoming event they will be putting on at Brewhalla. What…

By Annie Prafckeannieprafcke@gmail.com AUSTIN, Texas – As a Chinese-American, connecting to my culture through food is essential, and no dish brings me back to my mother’s kitchen quite like hotdish. Yes, you heard me right –…

By Sabrina Hornungsabrina@hpr1.comNew Jamestown Brewery Serves up Local FlavorThere’s something delicious brewing out here on the prairie and it just so happens to be the newest brewery west of the Red River and east of the…

By Josette Ciceronunapologeticallyanxiousme@gmail.com What does it mean to truly live in a community —or should I say, among community? It’s a question I have been wrestling with since I moved to Fargo-Moorhead in February 2022.…

By Faye Seidlerfayeseidler@gmail.com Somewhere lost in the cultural scuffle of what it means to be transgender is that it is an absolute joy to experience the world in such a way. When you take away the societal prejudice and…

By Gilbert Kuipersgilbertkuipers@outlook.com I live in North Dakota District 24 and have been challenging the district Republicans about their understanding of climate science for years. There has been no serious response to my…