Discipline

Disciplining my child has to be my least favorite part of being a parent. There are people who think I don’t discipline enough, and others who think I’m far too strict.  Most of the latter would be our friends and relatives in Norway, since the gold standard for discipline there is just a good talking to.

One day, my son was playing games far too long on his laptop.  I told him to put it down and find something else to do with his friend who was here visiting from Norway.  He closed it right away because he knew if he didn’t, he’d lose the chance to use it the rest of the day and/or the following day for being disobedient.  The Norwegian mother also told her son that he needed to put down his computer so he could take a break as well.  He responded with an emphatic, “No.” 

In my house, that’s a word with big consequences, but in Norway, it’s thought best to let children express themselves.  She told him again to turn off the computer and again he said, “No.”  After the third time, she just rolled her eyes and said nothing more while the boy played on.  I told her I would have taken away all electronics for a week if Kaleb would’ve disobeyed me like that.  “Oh, I could never do that,” she said, “it would never work,” meaning, her son wouldn’t obey that command, either.

Our part of Norway is known throughout the land as being extraordinarily lenient when it comes to disciplining the children.  The parents I’ve talked to about this just assume the children will figure out for themselves, what behavior works and what doesn’t.  Most parents set no boundaries and even if they did, the only consequence to any disobedience is just a lecture.  

Norwegian parents take on the role more of a friend than an authority figure with their children.  Some say it comes from the guilt they feel that both parents now have to work outside the home in order to maintain the high standard of living they all want, so they go overboard with indulging their kids.

I heard parents talking once about another child and the relationship he had with his parents. They said what sounded like, “they sewed pillows under his arms,” so of course, I had to ask what that meant.

Turns out, they have an expression in Norway that translates literally as that, but it means the child is spoiled.  The picture being painted is of a child with it’s arms outstretched because there’s been pillows sewed under them, attached to their body so the arms can’t even bend and they just walk around helpless, waiting for others to do things for them. 

I guess none of this should be too surprising since I’ve seen far too many Norwegians adults who still have those “pillows sewn under their arms,” as their socialistic government does a great job of taking care of all their needs.

Names

Long before our son was born, my husband and I were in constant disagreement over what his name should be.  I wanted a Biblical name - he wanted a traditional one. 

In Norway, it’s customary to name the first born after the paternal grandfather.  The second born son gets the name of the maternal grandfather and the girls likewise get named after their grandmothers.  I figured our son was already going to be saddled with a Norwegian last name, and since we were living in America, why name the kid something like Halvor?

My father-in-law was born Halvor Gunderson Strand.  His name followed tradition as he was named after his mother’s father because he was the second born son.  His “middle name,” which Norwegians actually refer to as their last name, is the name of his father, since he is indeed, Gunder’s son. 

What we American’s think of as his last name, is actually his address.  So he was known as Halvor, Gunder’s son who lives at the beach, because that’s what “strand” means in Norwegian.  The farm names in Norway always depict some geographic location where they are situated so it’s possible to tell one Halvor Gunderson from another, as there’s a good chance there are many in the area with the exact same name.

When Halvor’s family moved from the farm near the beach to a farm on a “harvested hill,” their “last name” changed from Strand to Slaatthaug.  This was how it was done in Norway for centuries – people’s names changed when they moved to a different farm because their name identified exactly who they were.

In 1923 however, the Norwegian government realized it was too difficult to keep track of people, based on this naming convention/tradition, so they made a law that said everyone had to keep whatever their name was at that time, and even if they moved, they shouldn’t change it, so that tradition died out.

First names are still recycled over and over again in Norway but the middle name tradition has also died out.  It’s most common now in Norway to take the mother’s maiden name as the child’s middle name.

Another tradition that’s also died out is naming the newest family member after the last one that died.  I’ve seen birth records for families that had four children, all with the same first name because the first three died.

Up until twenty years ago, all baby names had to be submitted to the Norwegian government for approval before a birth certificate was issued.  It was thought that having an unusual first name might be detrimental to the child, so conformity and standardization was encouraged.  But with traditional first names like Dagfinn, Roar, Oddrun, Bent, Birger, Frode, and Snørre, ya gotta wonder what they were thinking.

Technology

Norway has to be the most electronically plugged in nation in all of Europe, perhaps the world.  They were using computers, the Internet and cell phones to the max, long before America even woke up to the technological age.

Back in 2008, when our son entered fourth grade in Norway, we were told he needed his own laptop in order to do his schoolwork.  I wasn’t expecting that expense, but amazingly, when we signed up for a year’s worth of Internet service, our Internet provider gave us a free laptop as a “back to school” special.

The Norwegian government’s goal is to have absolutely everyone plugged in - and for good reason.  There are many things that just can’t be done in Norway, without the use of the Internet.  Banking is the main one.  Also, the electric company sends out quarterly emails to their customers when it’s time to read the meter.  Once I click on their link and plop in our updated meter reading, the bill is generated that instant.  I love that.

Norwegian cell phones can be used anywhere around the world, with no “out of range” problems.  I don’t know how they do that.  My Norwegian cell phone gets reception throughout the entire country, even in tunnels under the sea.  In America, I can’t get cell phone reception on my own street half the time.  We drove to Florida this past winter and my phone was worthless for most of the journey.  No matter how remote or removed from civilization we are in Norway, we can always make a phone call.

The phones are handy for other things, too.  A few years ago I backed into a parked car during a torrential downpour in Norway.  I left a note and drove away.  I’d taken a photo of the damage, and the license plate.  When I got home and told a cousin about it, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in their license plate number.  Up popped the name, address and telephone number of the owner.  We were able to call them and work out a settlement. 

The funniest use I’ve seen for this high tech stuff in Norway is in church.  Every Sunday, when the time comes to take the offering, they always announce that for those who want to pay with a bankcard, there is a bank terminal in the lobby.  Now there’s something I’m not used to.  People leave their seats and line up in the back to make their charitable contributions electronically because checks are obsolete.  For years, many have contributed using automatic deposits taken from their bank accounts, but the latest thing now is paying by phone.  The church displays the information on an overhead with their unique code, so people can punch it in on their cell phones and make a donation without leaving their seat.  I guess this is also handy for those who miss church - they can make their offering no matter where they are in the world.

Husmann

An interesting tidbit of Norwegian history, aside from those Vikings, of course, is the caste system that was in place for over four centuries.  It was more than just a lower, middle or upper class distinction - it was a social standing that could not be broken and none of these social castes could intermarry.

Even just a hundred years ago, the bulk of Norway was made up of farm owners (bonde), indentured servants (husmann), and the very poor (fattikassen).

The farm owners were the richest in the land, outside of the business owners in cities.  The farms along the coast were small, as the farmers could supplement their subsistence with fishing, but they still needed extra laborers to work the land.  The farms inland were huge, in comparison, and many hands were needed to keep the farms going.  This is where the “husmann” came into play before the 1600s.

Since the oldest son was the only one to inherit the farm, all other siblings were destined for a life of poverty and had to find their own way.  They usually hired themselves out to other farms, starting at around age 11.  As they got older, they were allowed to lease a part of the farm where they worked, so they could grow their own food and build a one room home for their family.  (Many of these homes are now used as sheds on farms today.) Their lease was paid either once a year in cash or with their labor, working as much as eleven hours a day, six days a week, year round in payment.  They often had to have another craft or trade in order to survive.  It was rare anyone was ever able to work their way out of that kind of poverty.  If the husmann was married, his wife would also have to work long days as domestic help for the bonde, who was always referred to as “master.”   There was no security for a second generation on the same farm, so husmann moved frequently.  In the 1801 census, more than 30% of Norway’s population was considered husmann.

Husmann were very poor, but even poorer yet were the fattikassen, as they were either disabled mentally or physically or just too old to work and had no family to care for them.  Often, larger farm owners took them in as charity cases, or the local priest would assign them a place to live so they wouldn’t be homeless.

The bulk of husmann moved to America in the late 1800s as it was their only hope for a better life.  In 1928 the Norwegian government did away with the husmann class by forcing the bonde to give the husmann the piece of land they had been farming.  This was the beginning of Norway’s one class socialist system.

Now that the caste system has been removed and Norwegians have the freedom to marry whomever they want, it’s ironic that most of them choose to not get married at all.

Graves

There are many social safety nets in place to keep Norwegians from ever becoming homeless.  My husband said once it’s as if the whole country is still living at home with their parents.  They don’t have to plan for their future because retirement is guaranteed at 90% of their pay.  If they get sick or disabled the government takes care of their medical expenses and sends them a hefty disability payment while they are off work.  If they lose their job, there are always retraining options, paid for by the local county.  Any kind of financial disaster a person could face in their lifetime comes with some kind of safeguard.  Homelessness is actually illegal in Norway, so everyone is provided a place to live.  But once a person dies, it’s a whole new ballgame.

Purchasing a burial plot is not an option.  Cemetery land is for lease only.  Part of the cost of death is paying the lease for twenty years on the land where the body will lay.  The price can vary of course, but around our part of Norway it’s about $40 a year and leases are paid in twenty-year chunks.  As long as someone makes the next payment twenty years down the road, the grave remains untouched, but once the money stream stops, they are literally goners. 

This system came about because of how little soil there is to bury people and cremation has not yet caught on in Norway.  The churches and counties own all the cemeteries and while the county may take good care of the locals while they are living, they drop them like a hot potato once they are dead. This tidbit of information answered a big mystery as to why I could never find old graves of ancestors in Norway.

The appearance of the graveyard is also very important to Norwegians.  Each headstone has a little mini garden patch in front of it and every year someone needs to plant fresh flowers and water them regularly or the grave will go away.  The county keeps the grass mowed, but they don’t mess with people’s graves, unless it’s to remove them.

It is possible to pay extra each year for employees to water the plants, however, if no descendants live nearby.  And there’s an additional cost to actually buy and plant the flowers, if it’s not possible to do it personally.  In Oslo, for example, it costs about $120 a year for the watering, and another $150 to plant the flowers.  No plastic flowers are ever allowed anywhere in Norway.

When the grave goes into disarray or the lease doesn’t get renewed, then the body get removed and “disposed of” and the plot is leased once again.

I find it ironic that Norwegians are the recipients of many financial benefits from the government during their lifetime in order to keep them in house and home, but after they’re dead, they must pay out for all eternity for their new place.