May 12, 2002, Sunday, Late Edition - Final

SECTION: Section 1; Page 14; Column 1; National Desk

LENGTH: 1058 words

HEADLINE: Lutefisk (uff da) Reigns in Revival of Nordic Roots

BYLINE: By TIMOTHY EGAN

DATELINE: ASTORIA, Ore.

BODY:
After a quarter-century in the Pacific Northwest, Greta and Oddvar Medhaug packed up their belongings this spring and moved back home to a small island in
Norway, where it is a bit colder than they remembered. But otherwise things are just fine.

They are pleased with the health care benefits and happy to see old friends and family members. They have just one complaint. "Everything in Norway has
become too Americanized," Mr. Medhaug said in a telephone interview from Karmoy, Norway. "They all speak English."

The Medhaugs may have trouble finding authenticity in the old country, but back in the United States, home to more than 12 million people who claimed
Scandinavian ancestry in the 2000 Census, things have seldom been more robust for the culture of lingonberries and lutefisk.

Fifteen years ago, the rituals of sauna baths and cod drying were nearly extinct in many communities with once-heavy Nordic populations. An anthropologist
from the Smithsonian was sent to this town at the mouth of the Columbia River to record what was left of a handful of Finnish dialects that had disappeared
everywhere else in the world.

But now Nordic-language classes are packed, and universities and some high schools are teaching Scandinavian folklore and passing on nautical skills that
date from the Vikings. Organizers of parades around the country for Norwegian Constitution Day on May 17, known as Syttende Mai, say interest has seldom
been higher.

The resurgence is generated by third- and fourth-generation Scandinavian-Americans who are embracing a culture that their grandparents may have tried to
play down in an effort to fit into this country. The interest is propelled in some measure by a paradox; merciless parodying in Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon
chronicles and in the movie "Fargo" has only fueled interest in their ancestry.

For the young who are newly awakened to their culture, uff da (a sort of Nordic sigh) is hip, lutefisk (reconstituted cod) is soul food, and Stan Boreson ("the
king of Scandinavian humor," who lives in the Ballard area of Seattle) is Elvis.

"We were brought up with a kind of ethnicity that I used to be embarrassed of," said Knute (Skip) Berger of Seattle, a writer and radio commentator whose
grandparents came from Norway. "I was always saying, 'How did I get stuck with a name like Knute?' But now I think there's a shared sense of nostalgia for
this culture that we took for granted."

In this seaport where nearly half the population was Scandinavian at one point, membership in the Finnish Brotherhood club has been climbing after a long
decline, said Liisa Penner, an officer in the club. "It's only recently that we've seen a revival," said Ms. Penner, cultural curator at the Clatsop County Heritage
Museum. "To many baby boomers and young people, this Scandinavian past of theirs had become a bit of mystery. Now they're very curious."

Nearby, a store that sells Finnish goods is stocked with sea-salted licorice called salmiakki and books that read like how-to manuals to a culture. The town's
maritime museum chronicles the fishing techniques Norwegians brought to the Northwest. A pamphlet, titled "Finn Fun," explains that "although Finns have
been characterized as humorless, they are more accurately described as stolid."

Scandinavian immigration, prompted by poverty and the collapse of traditional farming practices, peaked in the late 19th century. From 1880 to 1899, 950,000
Scandinavians arrived at Ellis Island. More than 870,000 Italians came through the portal in the same period. By most definitions, Scandinavians include
people from Denmark, Finland, Norway and Sweden, although Finns are considered more distinct, with their language tied to Hungary.

All told, more than 800,000 Norwegians left their country for America. Only Ireland experienced a greater exodus in relation to the size of its population.
Today, there are as many Americans with primary Norwegian heritage, 4.5 million, as there are citizens of Norway. Particularly among the young, many want
some connection to their Nordic past.

Which is why even though the fishing, logging, boat building, mining and millworking jobs that lured Scandinavians have largely vanished -- Oddvar Medhaug
said he moved back to Norway because he could no longer make a living as a fisherman in the Northwest -- a new generation is trying the techniques of
those trades. At the newly rebuilt Ballard High School in the heart of the Scandinavian section of Seattle, students take classes in knot tying and boat sealing.

By contrast, new emigrants and visitors from Nordic countries speak fluent English and often disdain the old culture. They are sometimes called Nokia Nordics,
after the cellluar telephone company in Finland.

"The saddest thing is that I think Finland and the other Nordic countries are losing their identity at home," said Sirpa Duoos, a Finnish-American who is
co-host of a weekly show on public radio here, "The Scandinavian Hour." "We seem to value that heritage now more than they do."

Although Ms. Duoos's mother, an immigrant, has moved back to Finland, her 19-year-old daughter, Emilia, has gone through a change in the other direction.
She was Miss Norway at a Scandinavian festival here last summer. Her father is Norwegian.

"When I was younger, I had to dress up in my little Finnish costume in the parade, and I just hated it," Emilia Duoos said. "But now I'm into it. I like the
festival, and I made a lot of Finnish food over the holidays."

Another touchstone to preserve culture is language. "Our language classes are more popular than ever," said Marianne Forssblad, executive director of the
Nordic Heritage Museum in the Ballard neighborhood.

Swedish classes at the American Swedish Institute in Minneapolis have become so popular that people are being turned away, said Marita Karlisch, who
works at the institute. "The classes are fuller than full," she said. "They have waiting lists. Our recent lutefisk dinner sold out -- more than 600 people. So now
we have a whole lutefisk circuit."

For some, the revival can go only as far as their stomachs will carry them.

"I hate that stuff," Mr. Berger, the writer, said of lutefisk. "There's this search for the authentic, and that's fine. But I wouldn't wish lutefisk on anybody."

http://www.nytimes.com

GRAPHIC: Photos: A resurgence in Nordic culture has led to increased membership in the Astoria fraternal organization shown above. Interest is also
growing in traditional Nordic customs and practices like this sauna, also in Astoria. (Photographs by John Gress for The New York Times); Sirpa Duoos, center,
and her daughters Essi and Emilia practicing a Scandinavian dance in a hilltop park in Astoria, Ore. (Shane Young for The New York Times)

LOAD-DATE: May 12, 2002