“Welcome to Clifton! Now tell me, is that a Norwegian accent I detect? It is, isn’t it?”
Within minutes of joining the line for an entry pass, my cover is blown. A woman in bunad, seemingly thrilled so hear me confirm my citizenship, hands me a copy of the program, but informs me that I am not alone: ‘We’ve had plenty of Norwegians drive up from Houston already’.
Truth be told, there is never any reason to feel alone in Clifton if you are Norwegian: everywhere around you are traces of the 17 Norwegian settlers who founded Clifton back in 1854. Guided by Cleng Peerson, considered by many the architect behind Norwegian emigration to the U.S., the group made its way from the Stavanger area, across the Atlantic Ocean, all the way to the plains of Texas. Eventually, many more would follow – so many, in fact, that half of Clifton’s population of 3,400 is of Norwegian descent. Clifton’s history is so colored by its Norwegian founding fathers that the Texas State Senate named the town The Official Norwegian Capital of Texas in 1997. A Texas-size road sign informs you even before you have parked your car: “This is the Norwegian Capital of Texas... and so much more.”
Clifton’s year-round homage to its Norwegian traditions and cultural heritage reaches its climax in early December, when the Clifton Christmas Marked takes an entire weekend and fills it with Norwegian Christmas traditions. Everything from fjøsnisser and gløgg to lutefisk and a friendly atmosphere comes into play as Cliftonians invite everyone to join their Norwegian Christmas celebration.
In Norse County, visitors have a look at one of the churches the Norwegian settlers erected.
Unique
Back in line for the Saturday program, I kindly respond to the local accent expert, “No, I don’t know Olav from Tønsberg, but I’m sure he is every bit as nice as you claim,” and make my way to the streets. Dozens of Norwegian flags decorate the sidewalks, and despite the cold and rainy weather, women in bunads are easy to spot. Lousy weather and people in national costumes bring to mind the Norwegian Day of Independence – and there is something equally festive about the atmosphere as well.
Clifton has long been a city where arts and antiques are highly valued. The local antique stores are filled with visitors looking at local art or antique Scandinavian artifacts, such as the sixties-style cookbooks the women in the store seem to get such a kick out of.
Wearing an authentic Norwegian bunad, Paige A. Key of the Clifton Chamber of Commerce swings by the store to find the owner of a lost umbrella from an art gallery across the street.
“This really is a quite unique weekend,” Paige tells me while handing a drenched but content umbrella owner a fair chance of going the distance in this surprisingly rainy day. “We have focused on showcasing our great Norwegian heritage, bringing a piece of Norwegian Christmas out from our churches and antique stores, and into the streets of Clifton.”
Paige is eager to emphasize the fact that while the town museum and ancient Lutheran churches are included in the weekend program, there is still ample time to walk around, simply soaking up some Norwegian Christmas spirit – and feeding oneself some Norwegian Christmas food. “I bet you’re here for the lutefisk!’ Paige says while holding up a bumper sticker that says “Ignore the risk – try lutefisk.” Her message is clear and duly noted.
Ignoring the risk
Many Norwegians’ favorite hate-to-love/love-to-hate Christmas dish is something of a cornerstone in the Clifton Christmas Marked. For the 47th straight year, a local high school is preparing a lutefisk-fundraiser, served in the high school gymnasium, with senior students acting as valet parkers and servers. The genuine community feel from the antique stores and downtown area of Clifton is carried out throughout the day.
Ruth Taylor is in charge of the lutefisk dinner, and has spent most of her weekend preparing more than 400 servings – a walk in the park, she says. “The all-time high is 800 lutefisk servings in one night,” she says while preparing me to hold my nose as we walk into what she calls “the lutefisk room.” “
Say what you want, but it doesn’t smell like roses, I’ll tell you that much,” she adds.
Taylor says she “loves lutefisk” but understands why some might not feel the same way. “For those you do not like lutefisk, we have turkey,” she says with a mischievous smile. “No one should to miss out on celebrating a Norwegian Christmas in Central Texas, just because they don’t like lutefisk.”