Tradition, Food & Bjärv- Part I

This past weekend was Hyllningsfest in my home town. A celebration of our Swedish heritage. A festival that I have loved for as long as I can remember and while this year's was not quite the same, it is one to be remembered. My preparation for it started weeks before when my sister wanted me to help her make Swedish costumes for her sons. I was all for it and then proceeded to procrastinate until almost the last minute, but the vests I was making did indeed get done. And while I'm guessing they aren't going to hang onto their Swedish costumes like those of my past,

the pictures and stories will last.  And maybe even the story of how I waited until two days before Hyllningsfest to sew them will be remembered.

As Friday (the first day of the festival) came I was bound and determined to have a good time even though I was scheduled to work for most of the actual festivities. After working a crazy morning, I was headed of to join my parents and family friends downtown to watch the Folkdanslag (adult Swedish dancers). I have enjoyed watching them since I was a kid. They have such a passion for the dances and traditions. The members dancing don't to seem to have aged at all and are still loving what they do.

Although I was going to the Smorgasbord just about an hour after watching the dancing, I decided this might be my one and only chance to get a Viking on a Stick. This was an inspiration my family had once on a trip and suggested it to the Swedish Folk Dancers while my sister was in the group. They tried it, it worked and has been a tradition ever since. Since I only get a chance to get it once every two years, it almost seems better than Christmas presents. I know, I know, you are saying 'What is it?' Answer: Swedish meatballs, Swedish rye bread on a skewer, dipped in a batter and deep fat fried. AMAZING is what it really is. (I actually sent my sister on a quest on Saturday to pick me up more and put them in the fridge).

After the dancing and the Viking on a Stick, it was time to walk across town and take my mother to the Smorgasbord. We had planned to get there early, eat early and get to my dad's concert in plenty of time. WRONG. This was actually the first time I had been to the Hyllningsfest Smorgasbord and had only served at the Midsummer's Smorgasbord, so I didn't know how it worked. Instead they called ticket numbers. But it worked out because while waiting to be seated we got to listen to Bjärv. I didn't know it was that group at the time and I didn't know anything about the group. The folk music they were playing was so jovial that I was hoping the little girls I was with would want to go dance to it, but alas they didn't and I was to nervous to dance alone. The guys (Olof, Ben, and Petrus) were having such a good time and it made their music that much better. I was reluctant to actually go to Smorgasbord and leave the music behind. I couldn't have known this would not be the last time I saw them. So off to the Smorgasbord I went. Yummy food!

After the delicious food, we hurried to watch the Men's Choir, which my dad was a part of. It was a magical moment to be sitting the the church that I grew up in, seeing it packed, listening to my dad (and the rest of them) with my nephew sitting on my lap. It's memories like that, that remind me of why I moved back to Lindsborg in the first place. The men (40 of them) volunteer and only practice for one night a week for seven weeks before the hour long performance. It was the perfect dessert to the Smorgasbord.

To end Friday night I decided to see if any of my fellow classmates were at the Öl Stuga. There were very few, but I did run into Ryan. He and I had gone to school together from kindergarten through high school together. And low and behold, he was friends with Bjärv. I ended up staying, until last call which might not have been a great idea seeing as I had to be up at 6:30am to get ready for the race. But who needs sleep during Hyllningsfest? Day 1 more than complete.