Sarah Nigbor

My great-aunt Betty Larson recently turned 101 and our reporter, Andrew, did a great job interviewing her about her life and wisdom. She was married to my grandma Thelma’s brother, Irvin, and I have many fond memories of spending time at their house when I was little.

They lived on the home farm where my grandma and Uncle Irvin grew up, off County Road I outside of Spring Valley. I loved going to their house because they had a big barn to explore, a cistern to run up and down, a small woods behind the house to run through, and at one point, pet goats. You can’t go wrong with kids and pet goats.

Stepping into their pristine white farmhouse was like stepping back in time to me. A big woodstove dominated the kitchen, warming the entire house. Close to the stove the heat was blistering, perfect for warming up after coming in from playing outside in the snow.

Once in a while, we would venture upstairs to my grandma’s old bedroom, which wasn’t used anymore, and play with her old toys. The dolls seemed ancient and I felt like I was in a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. I couldn’t imagine my grandma, Aunt Betty and Uncle Irvin as children. I figured all they did was work on the farm and didn’t have much time for toys. I remember my grandma always saying, as Aunt Betty did when interviewed, “Hard work never hurt anybody.” Now I find myself saying that to my own children when they complain of chores.

Aunt Betty and Uncle Irvin spoke Norwegian at home, and before the Thanksgiving meal of roasted turkey, riced potatoes and lefse was served, they’d pray in Norwegian. I knew a few words my grandma taught me, but I can’t remember them anymore. I wish I had played closer attention.

I loved listening to the conversations between Betty and my grandma when they reminisced about old classmates and Spring Valley/Elmwood news. They laughed together over coffee and treats while Uncle Irvin and my grandpa would talk about farming or other “man” things. I was always excited when I got one of the wonderful sugar cubes the adults used for their coffee. While my taste for actual coffee didn’t develop until the ripe old age of 16, I loved “having coffee” with the adults. I felt so grown-up, though I knew better than to interrupt anyone or chatter. I learned so much observing; you learn so much more when you stay quiet and listen instead of always being the one to talk.

I remember my grandma, when I grew older, became exasperated with me one day and said, “You never SAY anything, you just keep everything so close to you. Pulling information out of you is like pulling teeth.” I didn’t say this to my grandma, but it didn’t help that I was surrounded by family members who loved to talk. Ahem, Mom. That was a key moment in my life; it’s when I realized I enjoyed hearing (and later telling) other people’s stories. I had to become comfortable with telling my own. I still feel tight in the chest sometimes when sharing something personal in this column, but it’s important to me that readers get to know me like I get to know them. If they share their stories with me, I should as well. Maybe they will help someone.

But back to Aunt Betty. I can hardly believe Aunt Betty is 101 and she is sharp as a tack. I can only hope I live a century, but I know one thing that will help, like she said: “Hard work never hurt anybody.”