Dear George,
When we visited Menominee last November, I spent hours going through my parents’ photo albums and miscellaneous papers. One of the treasures I ran across was a poem that my father had written for their fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration. By way of background, my dad, Vic. L., was born in Marinette, Wisconsin, in 1908. His parents were Swedish immigrants — his father a druggist, and his mother a prominent figure in the Wisconsin Republican party. Doris (Cramer) was born in Omaha in 1910, and Vic and Doris met in college, marrying in 1932. Vic began his law practice in Menominee shortly after that, and they had four kids: David, Steven, Peter, and Vicki. Here is the poetic version of their story.
Love,
Dave
VICTOR AND DORIS LUNDGREN’S 50TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
RIVERSIDE COUNTRY CLUB, MENOMINEE, MICHIGAN
TUESDAY JUNE 1, 1982
(METER UNABASHEDLY STOLEN FROM LONGFELLOW, WHO IS NOT WELL FIXED TO PROTEST, HAVING STOLEN IT HIMSELF FROM THE FINNISH KALEVALA.)
THE SONG CONTINUES
BY THE SHORES OF GITCHEE GUMEE
BY THE SHINING GREAT SEA WATER
STOOD THE WIGWAM OF NOKOMIS,
DAUGHTER OF THE MOON, NOKOMIS.
(THE MOON IS VERY IMPORTANT BECAUSE OF THE TIME.
THIS WAS DURING PROHIBITION.)
HIAWATHA, IN OUR IDYLL,
WEARS THE FEATHERS OF A WARRIOR,
BUT EVEN LOYAL OLD NOKOMIS
IN DISMAY SAID: “HE’S AN INDIAN?”
“NOT BY THE HORNS OF ALL THE MOOSES,
NOT BY THE FLIGHT OF ALL THE GOOSES,
THIS IMPOSTER COMES FROM SWEDEN
WORSE — BY WAY OF MARINETTE,
CHRISTENED MARIE AND ANTOINETTE.”
BUT THE CHILD DEFIED HIS GRANDMA,
SAID “GET LOST!” TO OLD NOKOMIS,
TOOK THE NAME OF VICTOR LUNDGREN,
TAUGHT THE ANIMALS TO SAY IT,
TAUGHT THEM TO VOTE GOP
AND TO SPELL “MENOMINEE”.
WHEN TIME CAME TO GO AWOOING
VICTOR PASSED UP MINNEHAHA;
“I’LL MAKE MY OWN JOKES, “ SAID HE-HE,
NOT FOR HIM WAS MINNESOTA.
INDIANS FROM THE PLAINS ARE BETTER
AND HE WENT OUT THERE TO GET HER;
FOUND A CUTIE NICKNAMED CRAMER,
SPOILED A BIT, BUT WHO COULD BLAME HER?
THEIR HONEYMOON DID SURE EXCELL,
A CHRYSLER FULL OF DIXIE BELL;
AND, NO LONGER BEING SINGLE,
VICTOR HUNG HIS LEGAL SHINGLE.
THE RUSH OF CLIENTS WASN’T SPEEDY,
BUT THE NEWLIES WEREN’T NEEDY.
LUNDGREN’S DRUGS’S SODA BAR
DID MORE BUSINESS — AND BY FAR —
AFTER LOOSCH HAD LOCKED IT UP
AND VIC AND DORIS CAME TO SUP
BRINGING LOW-LIFE PALS AND CHUMS
WHAT A FINE ASSORT OF BUMS!
WHEN THE SOUND OF LITTLE VOICES
FILLED THE TEEPEE WITH REJOICES;
DAVID, SOLEMN AND QUITE PROPER;
STEVIE, YANKING OUT THE STOPPER;
VICKI, LATER, BUT NOT LEAST
AND — VOILA! — PETER THE BEAST!
