WHAT ARE THESE CREATURES?

                                     
1945

                                         
After an eleven-day, arduous journey from my country, Iceland, I arrived in Normal, Illinois, USA
Mary's (my new mother-in -law) house was a small, one-story, white painted home in a row of other similar
homes in an older neighborhood. That evening I stood in the yard and looked around familiarizing  myself with my new surroundings.
Across the street from Mary's house was a church. I was looking at the building and thinking how strange it was - almost middle of June and very dark outside. I was used to seeing part of the sun all night at mid-summer. Then I saw these little sparks! The church must be on fire!
I ran inside and tugged at Mary's dress.
"Hey, you, kirkjan (church) fire, fire!" I stuttered. Still not used to saying Mary, or Mom, I often called her 'hey you'. I pulled her to the front door and pointed. The sparks were even thicker that before and coming dangerously close to us!
"Fire?" She stared out and then looked at me, puzzled."Where? I don't see any fire." She cocked her head at me, trying to understand my fear.
Frantically I pointed. "See there, there!" I was twenty and acting like a six-year-old.
Turned out this was my first encounter with fireflies.Bugs with their own lights! Startling, and scary, I thought as I watched these little sparks land in grass and bushes, and not starting any fire. Mary had quite a time in educating me.

2012...5:45 A/M

Suddenly I'm awake. I started to get up and glanced at the white sheers at the window where glimmer of sunlight was filtering through. I stared at the weird shape; PALM-OF-MY-HAND-SIZE, BLACK BLOB..Then frantically shook my husband, Del, and whispered "what is that thing clinging to the curtain?"
Both of us stared for a moment. "I can't make it out." Del said
"I'm scared." I eased my feet to the floor.
"Get a towel or something, and I'll grab it." Del bravely offered.
The THING hadn't moved so I crept closer o the window, IT didn't move. Frightened beyond belief I crept closer and peered at the creature.
"It has a face and pointy ears like a mouse, but THIS has wings!" I gasped in unbelief as I backed away.
"GET A TOWEL,I'LL GET THIS THING." Del started to get up
" I'm scared." I whined. "What if you miss, what if IT takes off? It looks hideous!" I was now frantic with all the awful possibilities racing through my head. "What if IT has a family in here? Surely IT didn't hatch all by itself, maybe there are bunch more and come to look for this one, THEN WHAT???!!!"
"JUST GET A TOWEL!!!" Del raised his voice.
I got the towel. Del grabbed, and wrapped the THING in the towel without any trouble. The THING didn't protest as I put IT into a plastic bag, towel and all, then tied a firm knot. Put it into another plastic bag and firmly tied a solid knot. There the bag awaited for us to take it somewhere for the CREATURE to be identified.


10:45 A/M

We were dressed and had breakfast then, with hands on my hips, I demanded of my hero. "Now what? We got a horrendous creature in the bag...do we call the fire department? The terminator? The firing squad?" I wanted this THING out of my house, like RIGHT NOW!!
Del held up his hand "Let me think... Okay, let's drive over to the zoo and see if there's someone who can identify it."
I fortified myself with six cups of coffee and gingerly picked up the bag, all was quiet inside. I felt remorse:God had created IT and I just couldn't let IT suffocate.I picked up a toothpick, holding my breath, thinking IT might just explode out of the bag. But everything was suspiciously quiet as I made few holes.

The Zoo was a madhouse, school buses and kids everywhere. No place to park. Del had to stay in the car while I went for help.
"You mean you have IT in that bag?" The guard exclaimed after I related the episode
"Yes."' I nodded.
 "I'll call someone from the animal house, please wait outside" She pointed to the door. I stepped out, bag firmly in hand, and sat down on a bench.Pretty soon a burly individual swaggered up to me and asked.
"So, what do you have in there?" I proceeded to explain.
"Hmm, sounds like a flying squirrel." I felt better, a squirrel doesn't sound so bad. The man pursed his lips.
"How did you get it in there?"
"My husband grabbed it with a towel, so it's all wrapped up in it, and then I put it all into the plastic bags"
"Wait here while I take this over to that tree." Taking the bag out of my hand he opened it up against the tree-trunk and shook the towel. He cocked his head and studied the THING for a moment then wadded up the towel in the bags.
"It's a bat, and still alive. I will throw all of  this away." Indicating to the towel and bags.
"Yikes! I sure don't want it! How in the world did a bat get into my house? Do I have to worry about more of them, a mom, a dad, a brother or a sister?" I must have looked a little nuts. I think my English went north for a minute.
The burly guy laughed."I don't think so, this one probably came through an open door and couldn't find its way back out." As I profusely thanked him, he continued. "It only eats insects!" He chuckled, reading my mind. Somewhere I've read that bats suck the blood out of humans!

Yikes! Troll Troubles Galore! Follow the Icelandic Yule Lads as Heidi writes of their escapades.

Follow Heidi Herman's Yule Lads story-fun funny troll troubles In Iceland, Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Finland...Yikes, they all have troll troubles! Delightfully illustrated by Colleen Stiles...

Read from the beginning at http://heidiherman.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-yule-lads-mayhem-at-north-pole-part.html

A Nazi’s Disappointment With Iceland

I came across this article recently when researching another topic.  Having lived in Iceland during WWII I found this humorous and interesting.  I am re-posting it in its entirety with the accompanying photo, the original article was from Reykjavik Grapevine.

Published March 6, 2014 in THE REYKJAVIK GRAPEVINE   

By Helgi Hrafn Guðmundsson (click to link to original article)

In the early hours of May 10, 1940, British forces launched Operation Fork, invading Iceland. One of their first tasks, upon disembarking in Reykjavík, was to arrest the German consul, Dr. Werner Gerlach. He was a fanatical member of the Nazi Party and had tried, under orders from the highest level, to win Icelanders over to the German cause. The Nazi leadership had identified the Icelandic nation as a pure and brave “Aryan nation.” Dr. Gerlach became, however, extremely disappointed with Iceland and its inhabitants, which he deemed to be pathetic. “There is nothing left of the noble nation and its pride, but servility, lack of decency, toadying and humiliation,” he writes in his memorandum.

Iceland had been looked upon as a Germanic paradise of pure racial stock by the fanatical pseudo-intellectual circles inside the Nazi party in the 1930s. Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS and a leading party member, was very interested in mysticism and idolised the Vikings, who he thought were symbolic of the alleged racial superiority of the Nordic race. Dr. Bernard Kummel, a scholar close to Himmler, wrote a book on the ™spiritual treasures∫ of the Icelandic people and encouraged Germans to seek these in Iceland.

Dr. Gerlach’s assignment was to encourage the mighty Icelanders to join the Nazis in the pursuit of racial purity and domination of inferior peoples. Gerlach, who was a respected physician and a long-term member of the Nazi Party, did not find any of the spiritual treasures promised by his commanders. Instead he only saw what he describes as a pathetic behaviour of savage and corrupted degenerates. We know this because his memos on Icelanders have survived and are stored at the National Archives of Iceland. Werner Gerlach was released as a prisoner of war in 1941 in an exchange of Allied diplomats. He died in 1963. The Allies maintained control over Iceland until the end of the Second World War, denying Germany a chance to seize this “racially” and strategically important island west of Europe.

Telling Quotes From His Memos:

“It’s nothing short of arrogance, that these 117.000 souls, one third of them degenerate weaklings, should desire to be an independent state. Add to that that the cultural level is as not high as they say.”

“Icelanders are a great disappointment. The upbringing of children is pathetic. Schools are beyond the pale. The only school considered remotely acceptable is the Catholic school. In the others, the children learn only to argue. Lack of discipline. The director of educational affairs is a communist. The youth has no longer any idea of the sagas or Iceland’s history, no sense of family or race.”

“We need to reconsider our position on Iceland completely. We need to have scientists do what can be done, but other than that, this grovelling, which meets no kindness, must stop. Modern Icelanders do not deserve us, neither for their temperament, nor their significance, with the exception of a few.”

“Earlier than ten in the morning, there is no possibility of waking anyone, and women not earlier than 12. Men work irregularly. Unemployment. Men do not use their energy for working, but rather to not go to the dogs. Everything, which for us is unimportant, becomes a goal for them (swimming, table tennis). All Germans, that have stayed here long, are not all there, or are apathetic and dumb.”

“Films are almost exclusively American spy films of the lowest sort. The theatre company performs Sherlock Holmes for a whole month. Here, the dramatic subjects from the sagas lie untouched in the gutter.”

“The theatre company performs a German farce by the Jewish pornographers Arnold and Bach. The police banned the play because of its corrupting influence. Then they stage another premiere in front a full house, where a committee of experts and members of parliament are given access and it’s sold out. The press goes mad. Overwhelming enthusiasm and applause.”

“Musical life is of a very low standard here. There are one or two quite good painters, but there is a lot of pretence and junk. Sculpture – Einar Jónsson is half-mad but very Icelandic. Then there’s Ásmundur Jónsson, who is called a cosmopolitan. Clearly Jewish degenerate art. A book has been published on him.”

“Views on Jews – completely uncomprehending. An Icelandic student was asked by his fellows, when discussing the Jewish matters: “Would you marry a Jewish woman?” And he answered: “Yes, why not?” Even the director of the national museum will hand an ashtray to a negro in a red coat.”

“The Icelandic press is more British than the Times. When the Times confesses that the English have been forced to retreat, Vísir publishes the tall tales of the United Press about Allied victories. And then there is the foreign minister’s english-minded rag. You cannot point out enough that the Icelandic newspapers are fifth-rate English country rags.”

“Constant inconvenience day and night from crazy or drunk men – or both. All night, eleven o’clock, twelve, two, drunken Icelanders call and demand to talk with me. Awful alcohol abuse. Black death. Spirits. Alcohol and taxis. Drunken men out in the street. Smuggling.”

“No car tires to be found. Most cars are old, purchased from abroad. Fewer visitors to the swimming pool. No external stimulation. Men lose all standards. No fruits. We were going to buy a bed, in Reykjavík there were only two available. We were going to buy a sink, sinks have been unavailable for three weeks.”

“One thing is certain and must be clearly stated – there is nothing left of the noble nation and its pride, but servility, lack of decency, toadying and humiliation.”

My New Icelandic Cookbook

I am happy to share the news my new cookbook of Icelandic recipes is now available!  Homestyle Icelandic Cooking for American Kitchens can be purchased on Amazon.com.  A joint effort between my daughter, Heidi, and myself, we have put together this great group of Icelandic recipes with easy-to-follow instructions.

Whether you’re looking to connect with your roots, try something new or already love Icelandic cooking, this book is a must.  This is a collection of traditional everyday Icelandic recipes, translated with step-by-step instructions.  We have gathered all the simple classic favorites that truly reflect the home-style Icelandic flavors and heritage.

Terta (Vínarterta), Kleinur, Black Bread (Rúgbrauð), Fishballs (Fiska Bollur), Browned Potatoes (Brúnar Kartöflur), Pastries (Vínarbrauð), Icelandic Pancakes (Pönnukökur), and much more!


Click here to buy one now: Homestyle Icelandic Cooking for American Kitchens

 We even included the recipe for the curry sauce!

DEL AND I MEET...

In 1944 in the capital of Iceland, Reykjavik, I met my husband to be, Del, He was in the United States Navy. We were both nineteen-years-old. Two girlfriends of mine persuaded me to go downtown with them to a  USO dance, at a place called White Rose Hall. As we entered my two girlfriends deserted me to meet their boyfriends.
      All around me was loud chatter, mostly American accents, but mixed with few British and Scottish brogues. Feeling unexpectantly shy, knowing very little English, I turned to leave and almost collided with a young, good-looking, dark-haired, slim sailor, who had a huge smile on his face.
      "Dance?" He said something else that I didn't,t understand.
      I shook my head.
     "Please?" Something about that plea and the entreaty in his soft hazel eyes made my heart do a flip-flop. These were difficult times, no one knew who would come back when sent out on a mission; ships were torpedoed, airplanes shot down and many service men were losing their lives.
      "Okay." I knew that one word, it was as universal as "Coca-Cola". As we danced it was like we'd been hit by a bolt of lightening! No need for words just looks and - for me anyway - silly smiles.
      We met again at the dance hall the next evening, and as we danced he asked me to marry him. I looked at him, thinking I knew what he was asking, but not quite sure. Del asked again, taking my left hand and acting like he was putting a ring on my finger. Then I knew, and said "yes". We were serious. The next day we told Mother.
      "You want to do what."? My soft-spoken, easy going, Mother shouted! This was not good. Mother never raised her voice; not at us kids, not at my Father, no one. And now she really raised her voice.
      "Herman and I want to get married." I repeated. ( Later, in my family, Del was always called Herman, I guess it rolled easier of the tongue).
      Mother had her face buried in both hands, rocking from side to side. She was quiet for a moment then she looked up, wide-eyed shock still on her face.
       "Íedamín, will Herman live in Iceland? Or, heaven forbid, are  you going to move to Amerika? Do you realize how far it is? We know nothing about his family. We don't even know what part of the country he is from. It's a huge country. You could get lost, then what?" Mother nervously twisted her fingers, then dabbed at her eyes with a hankie.
      Del had been holding my hand and trying to follow a conversation he couldn't understand. He didn't speak Icelandic, and my Mother didn't speak English. My English was not a whole lot better; we got by with hugging, kissing and holding hands. Del squeezed my hand. He could see that this wasn't going as well as we had hoped.
      I said something like, "You home Amerika?" He looked at me a little puzzled. I tried again.
      "You Mamma, home, Amerika?
      Del smiled that great smile of his and said "Chicago"
      Mother about fell off of the sofa, gasping. "Chi-ka-ga?" Gangstar Chi-ka-ga?!?"
      It didn't come out 'gangster', but close enough. We had some explaining to do and it wasn't going to be easy.
     As usual - in Icelandic households - the coffeepot was steaming. I got up and placed three cups and saucers on the table to give Mother time to get over her shock. As I poured the coffee I grinned at Del, a little wickedly, I'm afraid. I knew he detested the drink but would pretend to like it for the sake of being polite. You haven't tasted coffee until you've tasted the way we used to make it, strong enough for the teaspoon to stick straight out of the cup! I put the sugar cube bowl out and sat down as a grateful Dul scooped up a handful of cubes.
      After awhile Mother sighed and gracefully accepted the situation.
      "Herman is nice enough, Íedamín." Mother acknowledged, and then shook her  head and smiled. "Well, I guess I'd better get to know this young man of yours!" And that's how she took the news.
      Father had been out to sea and when he came home we shared the news. He was quiet but also accepted our wishes.
      Now that my parents had agreed to our marriage, it was time for Del to tackle the "powers" that be. Wearing down layers of authorities by unwavering persistence he got the ban lifted and was the first U.S Service man to marry after that. On March 25th, 1945 we were married in the Dómkirjkan, in downtown Reykjavík. Mother gave me away. Father was out at sea and was spared the embarrassment of being present when a daughter of his was marrying an army man. My two sisters attended but not my brothers. Icelandic folks, especially the men, were upset when girls started dating the "foreigners".
      The church was full of various personnel; American, English and Scots...Most of them strangers to us. A virtual floodgate opened up as service men, later, rushed to tie the knot.
      As time went on I learned more English words and I tried to teach Del Icelandic, without much success. We took walks, hand-in-hand, around the lake in in the center of down-town Reykjavik. Del would point and say "water" I'd say "vatn" He would say "birds", I'd say "fuglar" Although he just couldn't get THOSE pronunciations he did quite well with the words "Elska mín" translated "My love."
      Coming from totally different worlds as we did, I had a fleeting doubt and then pushed it away.
      I was in love.
islendingariameriku

My Icelandic Linage on Grandpa´s Jónas Björnsson side.

                        Hrólfur '' Rauðskeggur'' (Red Beard)                                      860
                        Þórhildur Þórsteinsdóttir                                                         920
                        Þórkell    Þórhildarsson                                                          945
                        Ketill   Þórkelsson                                                                  965
                        Haukur Ketilsson                                                                  1020                                                               Ýngveldur Hauksdóttir                                                          1060
                        Snorri Húnbogasson                                                             1100 - 1170
                        Narfi Snorrasson                                                                  1135 - 1202
                        Narfi Snorrasson                                                                  1210 - 1284
                        Snorri Narfasson                                                                  1260 - 1334
                        Ormur Snorrasson                                                                1320 - 1401
                        Guðmundur Ormsson                                                            1360 - 1388
                        Þórbjörg Guðmundsdóttir                                                      1385 - 1431
                        Snælaug Guðnadóttir                                                             1415
                        Kristín Eyólfsdóttir                                                                  1450 - 1526
                        Jón ''Ríkur'' (the Rich)                                                            1480
                        Steinunn Jónsdóttir                                                                 1513 - 1593
                        Teitur Björnsson                                                                    1545 - 1619
                        Helga Teitsdóttir                                                                    1610 - 1663
                        Kristín Jónsdóttir                                                                    1648
                        Helga Magnúsdóttir                                                                1688 - 1762
                        Guðrún Hafsteinsdóttir                                                            1726
                        Jón '' Eldri'' (senior) Jónsson                                                   1764 - 1802
                        Guðmundur Jónsson                                                               1802 - 1867
                        Jónas Guðmunsson                                                                 1828 - 1872
                        Björn Jónasson                                                                       1870 - 1960
                        Jónas Björnsson                                                                      1897 - 1981
                       Íeda Jónasdóttir/Herman                                                          1925
                       
                                           

Iceland is my Inspiration

Just got back from a fabulous trip to Iceland where I get my inspiration for writing, like my new book based in Snæfellsnes: THE SILVER ARROW, also a sequel to THE SILVER ARROW in the works, and, of course, my memoir of growing up in Iceland TROLLS - MONSTER WORM - HIDDEN PEOPLE! 

What a country of extremes: Fire and ice, modern and mysterious, awesome structures built on a surrealistic terrain.  Last year (2015), I had a fantastic experience paragliding with TRUE ADVENTURES off the coast of Vik.  From the time I was a little girl - over 70 years ago - I imagined what it was like to fly, and the reality was tremendous.  It was such a personal experience for me and it felt like the achievement of a life-long dream.  Imagine my surprise, when this year I walked into a small sandwich shop in Vik and saw a poster for the paragliding company, feature my photo from my flight.  I never thought my indulgent fun would motivate anyone else, but if it has, I am so happy to provide that motivation for others to bring such a great experience to their own lives.  

It's a kick to share the story and photos from True Adventures with all of you here:  http://www.frettatiminn.is/thvaraogsleif/