The End of an Era

One of the things Cynthia and I had talked about doing for the last few years was going to the monthly breakfast at the Sons of Norway Wergeland Lodge hall in Bellingham. For $7 you get orange juice, coffee, scrambled eggs, ham, and Swedish pancakes with lingonberries and whipped cream.

When we read in the local paper that the hall had been sold, and there would only be two more breakfasts, it was time to act. We’ll be many miles from home next month and we thought there would be a big group of fellow procrastinators at the last breakfast, so it had to be today.

We arrived at the hall a few minutes after the starting time (8:00) and bought our numbered tickets to place at the end of our chosen table. Our numbers were 66 and 67. While we waited for our food to be served we drank coffee and perused the many craft items for sale at tables around the perimeter of the room.

As we were enjoying our pancakes, there was an announcement asking people not to linger because others were waiting for seats, and the number of tickets sold had passed 140. I was very glad we’d gone early.

Although the immigrants to the New World came from many different countries, the one thing they had in common was a desire to preserve their culture and customs. With each generation it becomes more difficult. America has been called the melting pot for good reason.

It was sad that the lodge had to sell their hall — built in 1948, with much of the work done by volunteers — sad, but inevitable. The number of members had dwindled from several hundred in its heyday to just over a hundred. The Lodge goes on, but without a place to call home.