Just call me MunDanish.

You know, I've always been very proud of my heritage. My mother is 100% Danish, my father was Danish/English. So, I guess I am about 3/4 Danish. That sound about right, Mom?

Throughout most of my adult life, my hair (what's left of it) has been very dark, almost black now. And, no, I don't dye it! Even though I was a total toe-head until age nine or so...then light brown, then brown, etc, etc...I am Danish. When I told people I was Danish, they would always say, "Hmmm, really. How come you're not blonde?" My 100% Danish mother had very dark brown hair when she was young (it has since turned a bit "lighter"). "Maybe you're thinking of Swedish, or Norwegian. But I'm not convinced all of them are blondes either".

In Holland, our European neighboring land of similar-looking windmills, wooden shoes, boring food, and grumpy attitudes...there is a huge contingent of Indonesians. They are many brown-skinned Netherlanders originating from the South Pacific (New Guinea, Malaysia, Philippines) . They speak Dutch and Portuguese and have been there for a long time. Figure that one out!

So why is it so hard to fathom someone from Denmark with dark brown hair, not fair-skinned, and has no freckles? I've been told that one of reasons Danes are so diversified in their ethnic origins is because they have been "conquered" so many times over the centuries. Plundering, bedouine hordes took over around the turn of the century (the first century to the second), and left a lot of genes from their raping and pillaging. Danes are natural pacifists. We're lovers, not fighters. We, of that tiny little principality of Denmark, have survived because of that. So, if some of us resemble Ghengis Khan or Christopher Columbus or Saxo Grammaticus...so be it. We are Scandinavians, but we're not all blonde-haired. We are a proud bunch. Grumpy, hospitable, with a very dry, cynical sense of humor, but proud.

We've even managed to preserve our culinary culture over the centuries. It's called mundane. Recipes consisting of two or three items, usually some sort of meat plus salt and pepper, abound. How this happened with those wacky French so geographically close is anyone's guess. I love French cooking, but their pompous chefs have turned the basic staple of life into a science, a religion that no one can agree on. Sorry Monsieur Escoffier. Of course, we are well known for the pastry thing. Can't beat a traditional danish and coffee in the morning while reading the paper and complaining about anything and everything in the world.

I have yet to visit the land of my ancestors. Hopefully, I will before checking out. The school-taught second language in Denmark is English...that says something about their good-naturedness, welcoming attitude toward the New World.

Regarding Danish cuisine, I'll never forget my Grandpa Carl Christiansen teaching me how to make frikadeller, a spiced up ground meat dish similar to meatloaf or meatballs, but fried in patties. He was a cafe owner in South Dakota for many years after coming from Denmark. His wife, my Grandma Melita Christiansen (the person who nicknamed me Skip), lavished me with affection and attention from day one. I think she even taught me the appreciation for a good, strong cup of heavily-creamed-and-sugared coffee at a very young age, allowing me to take a sip or two from her cup.

Grandpa Christiansen also introduced me to cigars when I was about seven! He got a kick out of watching me take a drag, turning green, then coughing my guts up. I guess I wanted to be like him.

The Danes are a simple bunch. Being MunDanish (as in mundane, regular, ordinary folk) is not a bad thing at all. I come from, good, strong, stubborn, friendly, Northern European stock. We are indeed pacifists...but don't piss us off! And don't forget, it was the Vikings who really discovered America long before Chris Columbus laid claim.

Tak. Goddag til mit verden...Thank You. Hello (welcome) to my world.