Kristian Prestgard:
An Appreciation
By Henriette C. K. Naeseth (Volume XV: Page 131)
In the living room of Kristian Prestgard's home, Troldhaugen, in
Decorah, Iowa, there has long hung a portrait painted by his friend,
Olav Stokkestad, of Prestgard as a young man. His eyes, blue like the
beret he is wearing, are as striking as the flowing red mustache that
seems a symbol of independence and individuality. Understanding, wisdom,
kindness, humor, and love of life are in the eyes, in which the artist
seems to have caught the spirit of the youthful poet. For, though
Prestgard's writings were in prose, no one who knew him could doubt that
he was a true poet.
Through the years of his editorship of Decorah-posten it was
often my privilege to chat in that living room with Kristian Prestgard,
or to be aware of his kindly presence in the adjoining study where he
sat working and writing. Through the years his mustache grew white, but
it seemed still the flag of an undaunted spirit; the eyes, unchanged,
held the same warmth that the artist had captured years before.
There have been and will be many records of Prestgard's editorial and
literary achievements, and there are co-workers and friends who could
write of what his friendship meant in stimulus and comfort, of the rare
quality of his mind and nature, the breadth of his interests. These have
been revealed again and again, often in his editorials and articles in
Decorah-posten, the Norwegian-language newspaper that has
deservedly outlived and absorbed other newspapers of its type. Its
distinguished position is due largely to Kristian Prestgard, assistant
editor from 1898 to 1923, and editor in chief from then until his death
on January 25, 1946.
This, and other aspects of Prestgard's career, were outlined by
Halvdan Koht, his long-time friend and correspondent, in a letter
published in Decorah-posten, April 26, 1945, on the occasion of
Prestgard's seventy-ninth and last birthday. How Prestgard loved the
poetry of his native land and how well he knew it is evident in
Norske kvad, the collection of Norwegian poetry that he edited, says
Mr. Koht. |
Det kan
være mer usikkert, men om en
tar av fra RV 287, gårdsveien til Sole, ca 50 m. og ser nordover,
stikker Kanten og Gråfjells topper opp over åsen.
Helge
gikk og tenkte på at det skulle være morro å komme dit og kanskje treffe
noen gamle kjenninger fra heimbygda.
