"Happy birthday dear Tora, happy birthday to you!â The people that fill my screen â each in their own little box â sing and smile once more before disappearing, one by one. As I reflect on this sixty-fifth birthday of mine, the phone rings, jarring me back into the moment.
âHello Billy,â I say.
âHey, Tor.â My cousinâs tone is serious.
âWhatâs going on? Everyone okay?â
âYes, weâre fine but⌠well, I was just driving by your Uncle Einarâs place⌠I hate to tell you this, Tora, but somebody broke in. Itâs quite a mess in there.â
Uncle Einarâs home stands empty much of the year, and is the original family homestead my grandparents built in Solbakken, Minnesota, in the early 1900âs after immigrating from Norway.
âWhat? Are you kidding? Who would do that?â I spout. âYou need me to come up there?â
A house. A mess. A mystery. Amongst the scattered papers and photographs, intriguing questions lay unanswered in the Anderson family lineage, hidden for decades. When a stash of ancient coins is found, and a gifted stranger moves in next door, windows are opened to incredible possibilities that transcend imagination and transport Tora throughout her familyâs generations.
"Happy birthday dear Tora, happy birthday to you!â The people that fill my screen â each in their own little box â sing and smile once more before disappearing, one by one. As I reflect on this sixty-fifth birthday of mine, the phone rings, jarring me back into the moment.
âHello Billy,â I say.
âHey, Tor.â My cousinâs tone is serious.
âWhatâs going on? Everyone okay?â
âYes, weâre fine but⌠well, I was just driving by your Uncle Einarâs place⌠I hate to tell you this, Tora, but somebody broke in. Itâs quite a mess in there.â
Uncle Einarâs home stands empty much of the year, and is the original family homestead my grandparents built in Solbakken, Minnesota, in the early 1900âs after immigrating from Norway.
âWhat? Are you kidding? Who would do that?â I spout. âYou need me to come up there?â
A house. A mess. A mystery. Amongst the scattered papers and photographs, intriguing questions lay unanswered in the Anderson family lineage, hidden for decades. When a stash of ancient coins is found, and a gifted stranger moves in next door, windows are opened to incredible possibilities that transcend imagination and transport Tora throughout her familyâs generations.
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Mom, Grammy, Tora, Auntie.â The names and titles garble in layers atop one another over the computer airwaves. âHappy birthday to you!â
The people that fill my screenâeach in their own little boxâsmile, cheer, and clap. I blow them kisses and say, âThanks one and all. I love you!â
âLove you too!â or some such version bounces back to me, and my heart accepts their intentions.
âBefore everyone leaves, Hazel has a special salutation for her Grammy,â our son-in-law Isaac says, waving his arms wildly to get everyoneâs attention.
âSimmer down, everybody,â my husband Peter says. âWe are about to hear from our brilliant, shining granddaughter!â
I am almost embarrassed at how much we love this child. She is currently our only grandchild, and maybe thatâs what makes our affections so intense. But, from what Iâve heard from all my friends who have about a dozen grandkids each, this is quite a common phenomenon.
In her sparkly princess dress she has chosen for this occasion, Hazel stands and folds her hands primly in front of her. The fake jewels on her tiara shimmer over her auburn tresses as she sets her chin just so.
âI would like to wish my Grammy happy birthday in four different languages,â she announces.
I see smiles of appreciation pass over the faces that surround her on the screen.
âSpanishâFeliz cumpleaĂąos, Abuela. FrenchâJoyeux anniversaire, Grand-mère. ItalianâBuon compleanno, Nonna. And NorwegianâGratuâŚgratulâŚâ
Her face scrunches in a concentrated scowl.
âGratuâŚâ she tries again.
Isaac swoops in and whispers in her ear. He is a developer of linguistic software for children, and I can see his fingerprints all over this gift.
Hazel nods, and then pushes her father away.
âGratulerer med dagen, Mormor!â she shouts, lifting her arms overhead, and then plunging them down to her toes in a dramatic bow.
The crowd erupts in applause. I can see the pride on Isaacâs face. But no one is more pleased or proud than me.
âBravo! Bravo!â I say, wishing beyond wishes that I could seal this gift with real hugs and kisses. âMange tusen takk.â
âWhat does that mean, Grammy?â Hazel says.
âIt means âmany thousand thanksâ in Norwegian,â I say. Itâs one of the few phrases I know from my grandparentsâ native tongue.
âOh, it sounds funny,â she says.
âYes, well, unlike you and your father, I am not a linguist.â
âWhatâs that?â she asks.
Her mother, our daughter Mariah, pulls her back to herself. âDaddy will explain,â she says, knowing as I know that the questions with this child can be endless. Interesting and entertaining, but endless.
âI appreciate you all taking the time to celebrate with me,â I say once Hazel has been mollified.
âItâs not every day you turn sixty-five, Mom,â says Brian, our youngest lounging on his sun-filled patio, nineteen-hundred miles away.
âYes, I know,â I reply with a wince. âI am trying to accept it as the blessing it is. But attaching myself and that age together still seems a bit surreal.â
âYou look great,â my cousin Katie chimes in. âI can only hope to be as lively and healthy as you when I reach your age.â
I place my hands on my heart and nod.
âYou are not too far behind me,â I say.
âTotally aware,â she replies with a laugh. âSorry my sister couldnât be part of this, but my mom said to send her love. She needs help to get on her computer even though weâve written down step-by-step instructions for her. But you know, at a hundred and one, that she can even use a computer is quite remarkable. Iâve got to hop off and go pick up my dog from the groomers. Lovely to see you all. And happy birthday.â She waves and her square disappears.
Several other friends and family do the same until there are only three squares left filled with my immediate family.
âYou are healthy, arenât you, Mother?â Mariah asks.
âYes, I am feeling much better. What about you? You look a little peaked.â
âOh, Iâm just tired. Thatâs all,â she replies, brushing off my concern.
âDid you get tested?â Isaac asks me.
âShe did,â my husband Peter replies.
âAnd?â Mariah says.
âAnd it was not COVID,â I reply. âJust some other type of influenza.â
âWell, thatâs good, at least,â Isaac says.
I see Hazel whispering into her motherâs ear. Suddenly Mariah is laughing and shaking her head.
âNo, honey, sheâs not,â Mariah says.
âIs so,â Hazel insists. âShe just said.â
âWhatâs going on?â I ask.
Hazel leans forward until her face fills the entire section of her familyâs place on the screen. Her eyes, which are the color of her name, stare right into the camera.
âYou are, too, an influencer, arenât you, Grammy? Thatâs what you said, right?â
Peter and I look at one another and chuckle.
âHow does she know what an influencer is?â Brian pipes up.
âCuz, I know stuff,â Hazel says. âAnd she is too.â
âI think Hazelâs right,â my husband says, grabbing hold of my hand and giving it a squeeze. âGrammy has influenced all of us, right?â
âThatâs not exactly what an influencer is, Dad,â Brian scoffs.
âWell, you have your definition and Iâll have mine,â he replies in my defense.
âIâm gonna be an influenza when I grow up,â Hazel says, plopping back down on her motherâs lap.
âNot an âinfluenzaâ, sweetie,â Isaac corrects. âAn âinfluencerâ.â
âSame dif,â Hazel says.
Brian lets out a guffaw. âI donât know about the flu, but COVID sure has influenced the heck out of the whole stinking world. Maybe sheâs got a point.â
âYeah, see?â Hazel says. âUncle Bly gots my back, bro.â
âGots your back, bro?â I say. âWhat are you letting this kid watch, Mariah?â
âOh, Mother, she spends so much time in front of a screen these days, I honestly donât always know,â Mariah says.
âBut we are seriously monitoring as much as we can,â Isaac adds. âItâs just hard when weâre all working from home, and trying to do our job, and be her constant companion and overseer all at the same time. Things are not what they were in your day of raising kids.â
âWe know,â Peter says. âNot accusing you of anything. It is a tough go for everyone these days. We know youâre doing your best, and we appreciate it. Just wish we could help out.â
A silence suddenly settles.
A sigh escapes my lips.
âWellâŚâ Isaac starts.
Mariah puts a hand on his arm and shakes her head. âDonât,â she says quietly.
âWay to go, Dad,â Brian adds. âLetâs ruin the whole party with a vax argument.â
Peter raises his hands into the air. âMy bad,â he says. âSorry. Youâre right. Didnât mean to stir that all up. Letâs not go there. Letâs keep this about Mom.â
Tears fill my eyes despite everyoneâs best efforts to keep the peace. I am so tired of this strange time we live in. So tired of having to navigate even the seemingly simple things, like having a family birthday party. Peter puts his arm around my shoulder.
âThe numbers are coming down from this latest wave of the omicron variant,â Mariah says. âMaybe things will be better soon.â
âLetâs hope so,â Peter says.
I shake off my melancholy, trying to recapture the spirit of conviviality we had just moments before.
âI love you all, and I truly am thankful for this party you organized, and the beautiful flowers that showed up at my door this morning, and the lovely set of paints I received, and the gorgeous scarf, and the hand painted card I got in the mail,â I say.
âThatâs from me, Grammy,â Hazel shouts.
âI know and it is amazing. Just like you.â
Hazel claps her hands, and a black bundle of fur leaps up onto the couch beside her. She grabs the puppy and waves one of its paws with her hand.
âShoSho says happy birthday, too. Right, ShoSho?â
The dog looks up at her adoringly and licks her face. She giggles.
âShoSho thinks Iâm amazing too, Grammy!â
My heart squeezes. Fresh tears spring up.
âEverybody knows that, Haze-amaze,â Brian says. âThatâs my new name for you. Haze-Amaze. Like it?â
Hazel stops for a second, and ShoSho curls up in her arms.
âI think I can go with that,â she says with four-year-old seriousness.
We all smile.
âOkay, guys, good to see ya. Time for me to take a run before the sun goes down,â Brian says. âHappy birthday, Mom.â
âWe will talk soon, Mother,â Mariah adds. âEnjoy the paints. Hope to see some new pics on your Instagram feed soon.â
âShalom, shalom,â Peter and I say in unison, using the standard family farewell passed along from my Grandmother Arnhild. She was Norwegian and not Jewish. At least, not that I know of. So, why she adopted this Hebrew saying, I do not know. It was just what she always said when we were parting and, to my eternal regret, I never thought to ask her why or where it came from.
âShalom, shalom,â they all reply.
We wave until only Peter and I remain staring back at ourselves from my laptop. He reaches forward and hits the âleave meetingâ button.Â
Tora Dahlgren hasn't seen her family in person for months due to the social distancing COVID requires, and she's feeling the distance of the heart as well as the physical space between them. When she gets a call saying that the house belonging to Uncle Einar has been broken into, she willingly heads north to Solbakken to sort out the damage. She has no idea that this trip will set her on a journey of discovery about her family that she could never have imagined and lead her to a purpose she didn't know she was looking for.
At Einar's house, Tora finds family documents scattered here and there. As she sorts through them, she finds out information she didn't know - information that raises a lot of questions.
She also finds a secret stash of coins that, according to her antiquities dealer cousin Clayton, are very, very old and worth a great deal of money. Why did Einar have them? Where did they come from?
And who is Felix, exactly? He's renting the house next door. He's polite and helpful, and his dog, Max, is very well-behaved. But he's an enigma to Tora.
Wendy Jo Cerna weaves an engrossing tale of family, of connections across the years and generations, with secrets kept and things hidden. She uses dreams as a device to impart knowledge to Tora, and it works marvelously! In her dreams, family members from generations past sit with Tora and read stories to her, stories from the family history. She keeps track of the things she dreams, and is surprised to find that within a short time, those things are confirmed in real life.
Tora's quest to unravel the mysteries of her family serves not only to bring her new and important information about her ancestors. It also serves to pull together a family pushed apart by time, physical distance, and the effects of a global pandemic, give them a vision of things beyond their daily lives, and unite them in a common purpose, with Tora finding herself in a role she never anticipated.
And Felix? Wow, what a surprise he was! In Felix, Cerna paints a picture of what eternal life might look like for someone who came to faith in Christ in his earthly life. The Bible isn't real clear on the specifics of life in the new heaven and the new earth (Revelation 21), but it's fun to imagine that it could be as it's depicted here. I also loved that Max continued to be part of Felix's life over the generations. I can't fathom that God who loves us so would have us spend eternity without our beloved animals. (That may not be theologically sound by some measures, but it's my opinion.)
I'll close with one of my favorite quotes from Pastor Mel: "I've found that the God who set every star in place, has a vast storehouse of wonders, knowledge, and mysteries just waiting for us to tap into if we will ask and believe." Read Solbakken: A Tale of Generations and be amazed at the mysteries that reveal themselves in Tora's story.