By Peggy Sturdivant

One of my most faithful readers won’t want to read this column--because it’s about her. Until two days before Christmas 2015 Gerry Hansen and I had never met. We’d been exchanging written words; mine were delivered via Ballard News-Tribune subscription and hers in postmarked envelopes.

This year along with a holiday card Hansen had typed up comments and memories inspired by my columns over the last 12 months. A writer can’t receive a greater gift, at least in this household, than a response from a thoughtful reader.

I couldn’t properly respond to the hand typed letter so I decided to use the return address to cross-reference the white pages so I could call and meet Miss Gerry Hansen. Two weeks later I pulled up in front of a trim house in East Ballard and offered my chilled hand to the tall woman who met me at her door. Two-and-a-half hours later we parted with a hug instead.

These are facts I don’t think that Geraldine (Gerry) Hansen will mind my sharing. Both her parents were Norwegian, although her mother was born in Tacoma. She has lived in Ballard all her life. In fact she was born on the kitchen floor of a small rental house at 80th & Earl. Her mother’s sister, her aunt Hjordis, later claimed she waited on the back porch in the January cold until the birth was over because it was so crowded inside. Gerry had an older brother and a younger sister. Later the family they settled in a three-generation home at 17th & 63rd NW, close to what’s now the pocket park.

Gerry’s parents both died fairly young, within 18 months of each other. The adult siblings sold the family home. Gerry was able to purchase her own small house, which met her criteria of having a fireplace and being, “off the ground.” Her Aunt Hjordis lived with her for 27 years, until her death at the age of 93. Hansen said it was worse than having a teenager in the house. Compared to her prim and proper mother Hjordis was the “wild one” who loved to go out dancing.

Over tea and Norwegian refreshments Hansen apologized for doing most of the talking, she’s clearly a generous but private person. I’d been sharing my stories I wanted to hear hers. There were also things I wanted to see, her writing and her scrapbook on the late dancer/actress Vera-Ellen.

Gerry Hansen and I had realized we’re both fans of the 1954 film “White Christmas,” and one its stars, Vera-Ellen, so we had plenty more to talk about than ourselves.

There’s rarely a year that my family doesn’t gather to watch “White Christmas.” We sing along to the song “Sisters” and watch Vera-Ellen and Danny Kaye dance. Gerry’s admiration for Vera-Ellen started earlier, at her first viewing of 1947’s “Carnival of Costa Rica.” Her allegiance for the only child, born Vera-Ellen Rohe, has never wavered and became a friendship that continued long after Vera-Ellen stopped making films.

Born in 1932 Gerry wanted to study dance but as a child of the depression it wasn’t to be. Her appreciation of dance never diminished though and the glory days of the movie musical in the 40’s and 50’s provided plenty. Though she wondered if she were too old she became a member of the Vera-Ellen Fan Club. Ties to other surviving members remain strong these decades later.

Hansen’s beautifully organized scrapbooks and files contain the cards and letters sent to her from Vera-Ellen, addressing her as “Dear.” When visiting California in 1952 Hansen let the movie star know she was in town and was invited to lunch with her on the set. When Vera-Ellen learned Gerry’s mother and sister were waiting in the parked car she fussed and insisted on stepping out to meet them.

That relationship by correspondence was just one thread in Hansen’s life, which includes a close relationship with a cousin in Norway, and has always been a mixture of very local and very long distance. Hansen worked at Boeing in Kent for 31 years but her home address has always been Ballard.

We spoke of many things, acknowledging her many losses but also special memories. She made a point of completing the family history project before her younger sister died. Photographs and postcards illustrate her travels and loved ones, including the snapshot of her with the fish in Norway that didn’t get away.

Before I left Hansen presented me with a Christmas card Vera-Ellen sent her in 1976. Vera-Ellen’s cursive signature is similar to that of Gerry’s at the end of her letters to me. The movie star in her heyday and later lonelier years wrote to Gerry, “Your friendship means so much to me Dear.” The gift of friendship is one that Gerry Hansen has given freely her entire life and I am honored she now shares with me.