You might expect the singers in a choir called the Norsemen to have blond hair, but not one of them does. In fact, most don’t have much hair at all. At least two of the Norsemen have hearing aids, and one uses a cane and doesn’t stand up when they practice. They aren’t professional singers, but when the little Danish woman starts playing, the Norsemen throw their voices together, and the old boys sound pretty good.

In June, the Norsemen sang at the Sangerfest concert at the Hilton with other choirs in the Pacific Coast Norwegian Singers Association. Their show material includes songs with titles like: “Vi er Sangere,” “Vikingsønner” and “Krigerens Drøm.” The Norsemen will also sing more comprehensible numbers like “Dear Land of Home” and Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” But ten out of the fifteen songs the Norsemen will perform are in Norwegian. Not one of the singers speaks the language fluently, and most don’t speak it at all.

That means that when the Norsemen huddle together by the piano this evening and sing “Hils Fra Mig Der Hjemme,” most don’t know that they are singing “Greetings from Me Back Home.” And neither do more than a handful of the 80 or so people congregated in the Sons of Norway Lodge to celebrate the 17th of May, Norway’s national day. But most of the audience listens attentively, seated in folding chairs around long tables decorated with centerpieces of American and Norwegian flags.

The Norsemen look sharp this evening: gray slacks, blue blazers, white shirts and red ties, some with small Norwegian flags. May 17th—or Syttende Mai—is a special day for Norwegians and for the Sons of Norway, too. If you can’t actually be in the idyllic bosom of the homeland on the 17th of May, and if you’re Norwegian-American, or of Norwegian descent, or Scandinavian descent, or if you know and like a Scandinavian, and if you happen to be in Eugene, Oregon, there is no better place to be than down on Alder Street at the Sons of Norway, Sonja Lodge, No. 38.

The day starts when Bev Loseth, the social director, and her husband, Howard, the editor of the Lodge’s newsletter, The Sonja Herald, and Bill Gunderson, the Lodge’s president, arrive about 10 to hoist the Norwegian and American flags, side by side, on the front lawn of the big white house. Someone brings a box of donuts and puts on a pot of coffee, and a few of us gather around a table in the Lodge’s main hall, which also serves as its dining room. We sit and drink our coffee from Styrofoam cups and talk about Norway.