"Love the Danes"

         Denmark is the land of my heritage. My mother was first generation American and she spoke the Danish language as a child, served us many Danish foods, and shared with us many of the Danish customs she had grown up with. My mother’s father, Peter P. Hendrickson, left America to join the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at 20 years of age; yet he loved his native land, his family and friends there very much. His wife, Kristen A. Mortensen, also a native Dane, also missed her beloved native land and both taught their children about the land of their birth. 

         My mother’s sister, Ruth Hadley, served a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Denmark in the 1950s, and my brother Gary  served a mission there from 1961 to 1963. 

Denmark

       Denmark is a land associated with the sea; nowhere in the country are you more than 47 miles from the sea. Surrounding Jylland, the part of Denmark that is connected to Germany, is an archipelago of 483 islands that make up the Kingdom of Denmark. Denmark, like much of Northern Europe, is wealthy, erudite, and liberal. Fewer than 3 percent of its people attend church, and Richard Andersen, a LDS Church Stake President in 1993 stated, “The Church’s biggest challenge in Denmark today is that we are an ungodly country.” Andersen blames the permissive laws passed in the 1960s. “Suddenly our country was affluent and wanted to show the world that our wealth gave us sophistication and understanding. So we passed laws allowing pornography, nudity on beaches, abortion on demand, marriage of homosexuals. Moral barriers fell all around us.”[i]

Gary as a missionary

      Gary’s mission in Denmark during those turbulent years was very difficult. During his two years there he baptized only one individual. One experience in Esberg, a fishing village about the size of Provo, Utah on the West Coast of Denmark, changed Gary’s attitude about his mission, Denmark, and life. 

     Gary had been in Esberg three months and was very discouraged; the missionaries had not taught a lesson or had not been received into a home for months. Gary and his companion wondered if they prayed and fasted more earnestly that maybe someone would listen to their message. They called the mission president for permission to fast; he gave them permission, but only for three days. 

       The first day of fasting was like any other; they tracted without success. The second day of fasting they continued to go door to door futilely. At the beginning of the third day of fasting, they knew their fast would end that night, yet that day was no different. That night they prayed long and hard and received no remarkable inspiration.

My Grandfather Hendrickson

        During the night Gary’s grandfather Peter P. Hendrickson (his mother’s father) appeared to him. Peter, who had grown up in Denmark and given it up only to join the other members of the church in Utah, stood at the end of Gary’s bed. He looked at Gary very solemnly; Gary could hear the silent words his grandfather was saying--that the only way Gary would ever be successful as a missionary was to love the Danish people with all he had and to look beyond their harshness. 

      “Love the people,” Gary's grandfather repeated. “Love the Danes.”

      When Gary’s companion awakened the next day, the companion told of how he had seen the nameplate and bell of a certain home in a dream and felt that it meant something special.

      The two companions prayed, then broke their fast. As they went out, they looked at the different streets carefully. Gary’s companion recognized the street he’d seen in his dream and they walked along it. Then he recognized the bell and nameplate. They had tracted out that area three times previously, but never stopped at the house. They rang the doorbell and a young woman came to the door. She allowed them to come in and talk to them.

      Gary was transferred soon afterwards and he never knew what happened to the woman and her family, or whether they accepted the gospel or not. 

       But the experience with his grandfather changed Gary’s life forever. He grew to love  the Danish people whether or not they invited him in, or accepted his message. He learned to love them unconditionally and appreciate their unique spirit.

       Even after he left his mission, his love for the Danes grew; he promoted everything Danish and Scandinavian he could. He began to celebrate an annual “Lief Ericksen” party on Columbus Day--to celebrate that the Vikings reached America before Columbus. He served as president of the “Sons of Norway” (a fraternal organization representing people of Norwegian heritage–there isn’t a “Sons of Denmark” organization).  He had a Danish foreign exchange student live with his family for a year.

    His daughter went on a mission to Norway and married a man whose family are as staunch in their celebration of their Norwegian heritage as Gary is of his Danish heritage, and Gary and his family have gone to Denmark several times. This fall Gary and his wife will return to Denmark as couple missionaries, and Gary's wife will be the mission nurse.

       Unconditional love is the key in all relationships; true charity that is concerned with the individual and develops a closer association is important. It accepts a person as they are, and loves them anyway. It doesn’t complain that they are not Italians, or Mexicans (or whoever would be easier to convert). Unconditional love doesn't give up if people don't accept the gospel right away, but loves them and accepts them despite it.

        Elder Russell M. Ballard said in October 1988 General Conference address (and probably more recently as well), “I encourage you to build personal, meaningful relationships with your nonmember friends and acquaintances. If they are not interested in the gospel, we should show unconditional love through acts of service and kindness, and never imply that we see an acquaintance only as a potential convert."[ii] Or as my grandfather, Peter P. Hendrickson said, “Love the People.”

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[i] Florence, Giles: “Sea, Soil, and Souls in Denmark,” Liahona, June 1993, page 36

[ii] Ballard, Russell M.:“The Hand of Fellowship,” Ensign, November 1988,

A Piano = A Happy Family

The piano is a musical instrument in which felt-covered hammers, operated from a keyboard, strike the metal strings. It was a variation of the harpsichord and was invented in the 1700s in Italy. Its history is interesting, but to me it exemplifies art, music, literature and grace. It is a symbol of refinement and elegance.

My maternal grandfather Peter Hendrickson was from a well-to-do family in Denmark. He was a talented artist and won a gold watch in an art contest, which displeased his father who felt art was a foolish hobby. However, when Peter joined the Mormon Church, which was very unpopular, that was unforgivable. Peter left Denmark and went to America.

Peter did not make a lot of money in America, although he was attractive and very popular. He writes in his journal:  

Peter Hendrickson

“Now I was in the thirties and for means could marry anytime, when another woman came into my life . . .  As I was in doubt about this woman, if she were the one I had been waiting for to this time, I decided to ask the Lord, and it was shown me in a dream, in such a way that there could be no mistake.  The right one had come.  It was her or no other.  My dream was:  I found myself standing just inside of a large room.  On the opposite wall were two large pictures covering the whole wall from floor to ceiling.  The one picture represented a happy family.  Around a table was seated a mother with seven or eight children, all busy sewing, reading, and conversing.  Looking at the other picture, I saw standing, a lone man, a bachelor, a likeness of which I, a few years previous, had seen in a stage play, ‘Sowing the Wind.’  As I looked from one picture to the other, I noticed a person standing by my side who addressed me saying, ‘Choose for yourself,’ and the dream was over.  I understood the dream. We were married shortly after, [and] I could see I had got the right one.  A number of years after, I could daily see a picture like the one on the wall, a mother and children.” 

In their family life, one of the most important things was a piano. My Aunt Ruth said that in the early years of their marriage, even before they had a piano, they had a cardboard keyboard where they taught their young children how to play the piano. Although as immigrants with ten children and very little money, the arts, including playing the piano, was an essential part of their lives. Their family life surrounded the piano where they played it and sang around it, and it echoed their love of music and their faith.

In my family, the piano played a very central role also. My mother played the piano and we often sang as a family around it. I loved the sheet music that she had that went back to the 1920s and also included current songs such as “That Doggie in the Window,” and “Che Sera Sera.” We also had a canary that warbled when we sang or when we played the piano.

My mother felt that developing our talents was very important and encouraged us all to play the piano, or if that was not our choice, to dance or paint. My younger sister, Coleen, played the piano, but I chose dancing lessons. We were not well to do, so my mother, who was a gifted artist, traded her paintings for lessons. After my mother died, Coleen made sure that my younger sister, Janet, went to piano lessons and my youngest brother, Will, got tap-dancing lessons. Janet hated piano lessons and often skipped out on them and eventually quit. 

After I had children, having a piano became a priority to me. I wanted to make sure my children could play the piano as my mother and sister had. In 1973 we were living in El Paso and I discovered a neighbor who had a piano for sale. It was an antique upright piano which had once been painted bright pink and resided in a rowdy saloon. The people who were selling it had stripped it, completely redone the wires and transformed it; it was now a sedate rehabilitated brown. We bought it; because it was so large we had to roll it home.

After we purchased this piano, I decided that I was going to learn to play the piano myself. I took piano lessons for a few years and I practiced diligently. I learned to sight-read, but I struggled to learn the rhythm. My great accomplishment was to play “Silent Night.” Finally I realized I did not enjoy playing the piano; I was determined to learn to play it because I “should” be able to play it—to be more like my mother and accompany my family while they sang. At that point I decided to give it up. I am grateful I learned to sight-read music and could help my children with their lessons; but at heart, I still love to dance more than play the piano.

For a long time a part of me felt I had let my family down because I couldn’t play the piano. When Diana or Bryan were competing in vocal competitions, and had to get someone to accompany them, I would sit in the audience thinking, “I should have learned to play the piano so I could accompany her/him.” But in my heart I knew it wasn’t possible! It was an impossible, impractical idea. I wasn’t a pianist and didn’t really want to be—except to fulfill an unrealistic expectation.

Marlowe In Christmas Carol

However, the reformed piano we purchased in El Paso became our friend and companion for over 26 years. We moved it all over the country. In moving to Hawaii a forklift sheared off the top of the pallet and barely missed our piano! Then we had to have a heater installed in it to keep it from molding because of the high humidity in Hilo! It sailed with us to Italy and back without a scratch, but in our 100-year-old house at Ft. Sheridan, they couldn’t get it up the stairs, so it sat in the entryway on the first floor, and whenever the children practiced the piano, the people in the other side of the duplex could hear them. It followed us all over the world and then home to Utah. I don’t know which astonished it the most, our children’s raucous practice or its wandering since it had left its saloon in El Paso.

It enjoyed Athena’s diligent practicing, Marc’s never practicing, Diana’s talented playing and Bryan’s trying to practice. Athena has continued playing the piano. In Italy she played the piano for church; she has played piano for primary and for her own enjoyment. All of her children take piano lessons. 

Although Marlowe never took piano lessons (he played the trumpet, both marching band and jazz band), he can play the piano some. His daughter is taking piano lessons, and I’m sure his children will continue to take lessons and play very well.

That piano has heard more musical theater than any other genre; probably because four of our five children have performed primarily in musical theater. I couldn’t begin to list all the shows they have been in and practiced on that old upright—in Alabama, Italy, Chicago, and in Utah.

Diana

Athena and Diana were always playing while we sang around the piano; when the children were around the piano, it just rang with song--I doubt if it had more of a workout when it was in that old El Paso saloon. Diana taught voice lessons on it, and I loved to hear her sing day and night while she was at home. One of the things I miss the most now she is gone, is listening to her singing.

Diana is the most accomplished pianist in the family. While studying voice at Berkley College of Music she also took piano lessons. Since living in Chicago, Diana has taken organ lessons and has played the organ for church and she now teaches piano lessons.

A few years after we moved into our home in Utah, Ed’s mother gave us her nice new piano (for Diana to use) and we finally sold our old antique upright piano. Although we still use Grandma’s piano, it will eventually go to Diana. However, since Diana teaches piano lessons and sings with a singing group in Chicago, she has purchased a piano.

However, whenever I think of Diana’s talent, I know that she will eventually have a grand piano because her talent is a “grand piano talent.”

A piano is a symbol of refinement and elegance. Even though my grandparents and parents were poor, they felt that a piano was well-worth sacrificing for. They played it and wanted their children to play it. Even though I can’t play the piano, Ed and I felt that it is an essential part of our home, and we wanted our children to have the opportunity to play it. A piano is more than just a musical instrument. To me it was like the picture my grandfather had seen in his vision more than 115 years earlier of a happy family. . . “all busy sewing, reading, and conversing.” . . . and playing the piano. 

“The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air.”

~Kenneth Miller