History by Fact, or by Faith?

Some musings on how we interpret history


I've had a lot on my mind lately, and not just the myriad of responsibilities and concerns that need to be inserted into daily life before genealogy, research, writing, and many other things that are the breath of creativity for me.

I'm troubled that it seems like the more I learn, the less I know.

The more knowledge an individual acquires, the more it is realized that we (humans) do not, and cannot, have all the answers. You have probably heard it before, that history is subjective. History is only as accurate as the interpretation of the person recording it.

What did my family have for dinner last Thursday? Mom may think it was meatloaf, and I sort of remember salmon caesar, but I'm not certain, and my husband insists that we went out to eat that night and had steaks. Who is correct? Who do you believe? If you can come up with a date-inscribed photograph of my family sitting around a table eating dinner last Thursday, then you might come close to the truth. Or, do you? Is your camera imprinting dates correctly?

When it comes to genealogy, like any history topic, you can bag all the dates and related facts you want, but they will not help you create an entirely realistic picture of anyone's life or environment. You cannot count on 100% accuracy. What happens if the facts are not what they appear to be?

A retired pastor once told me: "The past is gone, and the future is uncertain, so, you really only have today." It was an attempt to help me let go of past hurts. It worked to some degree, once I took the time to ponder what he meant and how it applied to my life.


Today, THIS MOMENT, is the only thing you can be entirely sure about.


Or, can you?

When I entered the eighth grade, I was suddenly captured by visions of all things futuristic: "Star Trek," science-fiction novels, sci-fi conventions and futuristic artwork. It all hit me like an atomic bomb, and I spent hours and hours in libraries looking for new reading material (yes, this was pre-internet, folks). Perhaps it was my youthful age, but the romance of "what could be" seemed the most important thing in the world. My curiosity was sparked to learn about physics, astronomy, and science in general, to seek any understanding of how things came to be and why they work the way they do.


So, the future is uncertain. But, is the past much more reliable?


As a mature adult, I discovered how alluring history can be, especially when the old memorization torture tactics of school day history classes were thrown out the window. History looks quite different when taken personally--I mean, REALLY personally. This is the reason why we become hooked on genealogy and family history, in seeking a connection to our origins. We need to know what history means to us both genetically and spiritually, in addition to wondering about the perpetual mystery of why we exist, and was it really the egg, or the chicken, that came first.


Oh, I just love Sherlock Holmes and his dogged collection and interpretation of evidence. Dr. Watson has just as important a part in in these classic sleuthing adventures, because he is the sounding board Holmes needs to help piece together his theories. We have all done it: researched the facts, found discrepancies, mulled it all over--either alone or with friends and family--and come to a "logical" conclusion. Even so, there are outcomes that cannot be logical, because there are simply not enough facts, and there never will be.

Case in point: did you see the recently aired History Channel documentary: "The Real Face of Jesus?" It knocked me out. I mean, it simply knocked me out. If you are unfamiliar with the story of the Shroud of Turin and the lengthy, ongoing investigation of whether or not it is the actual burial cloth that wrapped Jesus after his crucifiction, there is plenty of reading material available, online and otherwise. This program pulled together a thrilling investigation that utilized science in a attempt to prove history. I say: "attempt," because science, like everything else, is not infallable. That said, I believe that physics and mathematics prove that there is such a thing as universal truth.

To continue, this History Channel documentary shows the scientific and artistic methods used to create a 3-D representation of the image mysteriously recorded on the Shroud of Turin, whom many believe to be Jesus Christ. In the end, it is nothing short of fantastic how we can come to gaze upon a likeness of this man from so long ago. It is truly amazing by virtue of the modern scientific methods that enable such a venture, even if the image is of someone other than Jesus himself.

The entire point of this particular history-mystery is the lack of "evidence," and the sensitve, even volatile issues concerning the interpretation of whether the image is of Jesus or someone else, and how it came to be. While reading about the history of the Shroud of Turin, you may come to the conclusion, as do many others, that although there is not enough hard evidence to scientifically prove that the image on the shroud is that of Jesus, there is probably enough circumstantial evidence to prove it in a court of law.

History by faith? I don't necessarily mean religious faith. Which of the "facts" do you accept? What part of the story do you discount as factual? Unfortunately, this is one history-mystery where the solution will always be relinquished not to fact, but to personal opinion.


Conscientious genealogists and historians want to come as close to the truth as possible.


Assuming that we can never be 100% accurate in our reporting of history, the best we can do, then, is to be thoughtful and open-minded in our consideration of all "facts" presented to us. Sometimes, stories or memories do not mesh with each other, and then it is up to us to weigh the choices and determine what is likely the truth.

When I was very young, my grandfather's eyes looked sparkling blue, but my mother tells me they were blue-gray. Will I cling to my own early memory instead of accepting Mom's statement about her own father as truth? Probably not in this case, because her interpretation of the evidence as an adult would likely have been more accurate than mine as a young child.

You cannot even be entirely certain of a primary resource: a personal journal, for example. If I record my thoughts and impressions in a diary to leave them for generations to come, the only thing my descendants can really be certain of is that the writings will represent me, but they are not necessarily historical "truth." What if I choose to discuss a topic in a wishful-thinking mode, but this bent toward fantasy is unclear to the reader? What if I tell a little white lie out of not wanting to offend someone, or worse, spread a rumor about something I am not certain is true? What can a researcher trust, anyway?

How about sensitive issues concerning a person's character? A family member tells that your mutual ancestor could not join the U.S. Army during WWI due to an old injury, so he went to Canada to join up with the Canadian forces and participate in the Allied war effort. Another family member tells you that the ancestor crossed the border to Canada in order to avoid getting drafted by the U.S. Army, but was caught, and made to enlist in the Canadian forces. Whom do you believe? Whom do you want to believe? We must be very careful when considering disparate stories, because choosing the wrong one can ruin someone's credibility... or, your own.

Will we ever be able to check our interpretation of history against the experiences of those who lived it? Many a historian longs for the perverbial time machine in order to visit the past and re-live historical events firsthand. Don't we just wish we could cut to the chase and see what happened for ourselves?


When Professor Hawking talks time travel, I listen.


Stephen Hawking, a brilliant and eminent physicist of our time, admits he would be the first to want to travel back in time and visit Marilyn Monroe in her prime, but he also thinks that this could never be.


According to Hawking, who holds Sir Isaac Newton's chair as the Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University in England, a one-way ticket to the future is entirely possible: all you need is something to get you traveling very, very fast.

Photo: Prof. Stephen Hawking in front of the clock that eats time, designed for Christi College at Cambridge. The clock represents the philosophy that "once a minute is gone you can't get it back." The grasshopper atop the clock is designed to "swallow" time as it passes.

But, he thinks time travel into the past is unlikely is because of the destructive nature of feedback. As sound enters a microphone, if too much sound reaches the speakers and travels back to the microphone, it goes around in a loop and gets louder each time, eventually destroying the sound system if no action is taken. Hawking theorizes that radiation within a wormhole, or other such potential time travel portal, would react much the same as sound. The resulting feedback would soon destroy any portal used in an attempt to go back in time.

I'm sorry if this scientific theory bursts your bubble, but it looks like we may all have to continue piecing history together for ourselves, since it seems history may not be able to speak to us directly.

I hope I have inspired you to see that truth does not necessarily lie within the "facts." Still, what is the answer to this dilemna? I, for one, will continue to view historical data with the proper respect, but also with a critical eye. After careful consideration, I may actually choose to discount collected data and accept parts of history on faith.

To quote Albert Einstein, another eminent scientist who helped us to make sense of time, the universe, and everything: "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

Good advice, Albert.

Duty, Fate, and Beauty

Regina Winje Strand
(1873-1899)


Duty, Fate, and Beauty:
A Norwegian-American Pioneer Legacy Remembered

(a repost from February 2008)

Timeline for Regina Winje Strand:

July 13, 1873
Born in Sparta Township, Chippewa CO., MN

Autumn 1874
Sent to live with paternal grandparents

Oct. 23, 1888
Wrote letter telling of uncle's death

1889/90
Married Thomas E. Strand in Chippewa CO., MN

Jan. 15, 1899
Bore 6th child, Thomas R. Strand

Jan. 22, 1899
Death from "heart disease"



While studying data and details in genealogical research, we often come across statistics regarding pre-modern era populations and epidemic disease. Most of the time we do not have to think much beyond the statistics. In the days of our immigrant ancestors, epidemics and untreated health conditions were an inevitable part of life, and though much feared, were met with courage and acceptance. The early demise of children and young adults was common, and yet it cuts to the heart when one studies the past and finds personal evidence of just such heartbreak and loss. The story behind the short life of Regina Winje Strand touched me in just such a way.

Berthe Regine (Winje) Strand, 1873-1899.
 Photo ca. 1895, Chippewa County, Minnesota

"Regina" Winje was born during the heat of a plague-filled summer on July 12, 1873, on the prairie in Sparta Township, Chippewa County, Minnesota. The surrounding land had been claimed by the first homesteaders only a few years before, in 1868. She was the firstborn child of my great great grandmother, Thibertine (Johnson) and her second husband, Eric Larsen Winje, both immigrants from Norway. The summer of 1873 brought one of many severe locust infestations in the southwestern plains of Minnesota, and that year, it followed upon the heels of a devastating January blizzard. After catastrophic weather and other natural events, times were hard for local homesteaders and farmers, including Regina's family. Many homesteaders had to take out loans in order to survive, selling any extra cattle or livestock that they owned.


When Regina was about a year old, her brother Louis, was born, and Regina was sent to stay with her paternal grandparents in Sparta Township, Lars and Ragnild Winje. Perhaps the arrangement was never meant to be permanent, but in the end, it was, and the reason can only be surmised. While caring for her lovely little granddaughter, Ragnild Winje may have found a longtime need fulfilled in such a way that she found it difficult to return the child. Ragnild had given birth to two sons, but no daughters. In Norway, children were often placed where it was deemed most practical, so it was likely that Eric and Thibertine saw the gift of their daughter as a way to ensure company and help for her grandparents during their elder years. Fortunately, Sparta Township, where Lars and Ragnild Winje had their homestead, was only a few miles from Granite Falls Township, where Regina's parents lived. All family members saw each other frequently, and even attended the same Lutheran Church for several years, in spite of the alternate living arrangements for Regina.

Regina Winje, ca. 1883.

The earliest known photograph of Regina, taken in about 1883, shows a reserved young girl with a slightly sad, Mona-Lisa style loveliness and mystique. In spite of her youth, she seems to possess an inner acceptance of what life holds in store, a resignation almost. Wearing homespun clothing, there is unusual grace for a child of her age revealed in the hand she poses on the photography studio's velvet chaise.

At the age of 16, Regina revealed maturity of an adult level in a letter she wrote to a longtime friend of her father and her uncle, Ingebrigt Winje (translated from Norwegian). It is young Regina who must write for her grandparents and inform the family friend of her uncle's death:

          Mr. Doran Wessell

Good Friend,

I must now send you some lines as an answer to your letter to Ingebret Winje, since he can not.

Your childhood friend is dead! He died the 26th of May 1888. He was sick for 9 weeks this winter from arthritis but then he got a little better again, so much so that he could work, but then he became again lame in his right foot and had to in the end, be in bed and was so frightfully sick for 2 weeks that he lost his understanding right up until the last hour, his last hour he was however calm.

Here there were many people who followed him to the grave. If you come to Minnesota, then you must come to us. You shall be heartily welcome. We wish to get to talk with you, then you will have gotten to hear more about your friend that you thought you soon should get to see again, but it doesn’t always go as one imagines.

You are now most heartily greeted from Lars and his wife. I should write this letter for my grandfather and you must excuse me if it is bad, but it is so much for you to know that your friend is dead. I am the oldest daughter of Erik but I am living with my grandparents and I have been here since I was 1 year and have been raised together with Ingebret and no wonder that I have sorrow for he was always friendly and good toward me. I have also this summer lost 2 of my youngest sisters so that the sorrow becomes even greater. If you want to come here then you must get a ticket to Myers Station, Chippewa Co., Minnesota.

We live not so far from there. I must now end my poor writing with a greeting to you.

Regina E. [Eriksdatter] Winje [1]

The "youngest sisters" mentioned by Regina were Hattie Christine and Annie Jorgene, who died from diphtheria within days of their uncle, Ingebrigt Winje. Hattie was 5 years old, and Annie was just 2, when their deaths occurred. The young girls were living with Regina's parents in Duluth at the time, where Eric L. Winje worked first as an attorney, and later as a municipal court judge.

Within several months after the letter was written, Regina married Thomas Einersen Strand, who hailed from Soer Troendelag, Norway, like her father and grandparents. As the wedding photograph reveals, Regina was already expecting her first child by the time the marriage took place, which was not an uncommon occurrence in early Norwegian-American culture, as it had been in rural Norway. The only real shame involved was when a birth occurred without marriage beforehand.



Thomas and Regina Strand, 1889/90

Newlyweds Thomas and Regina Strand set up housekeeping on the homestead in Sparta Township where Regina had been living with her grandparents. Lars Winje, who was ill at that time, added his granddaughter to his will. Regina stood to inherit the Winje homestead when her grandmother, Ragnild, no longer needed it. Shortly after Thomas and Regina were married, Lars Winje died, and Thomas Strand began renting the land from his mother-in-law in order to farm and support his family.

Thomas and Regina had six children together, all of them sons, and all but one survived birth. Regina was only 25 years old when she bore their last child, on January 15, 1899. Thomas was most certainly proud of his growing family, and although it is doubtful he ever said it aloud, he must have felt that he had the most beautiful and graceful wife on the Chippewa prairie. Now, he also had five strapping sons to carry on his legacy: Elmer, Arthur, Theodore, Lambert, and the newborn, Thomas Raymond.[2]

But, as Regina so aptly states in her letter to Doran Wessell: ". . . it doesn't always go as one imagines." A week after giving birth, on January 22, Regina slipped into unconsciousness and died. Her husband, sons, and elderly grandmother were left in a state of shock. [3]

Regina's death certificate indicates “heart disease” as the cause of death, but her family understood the direct cause to be either a heart attack or a blood clot. It is likely that, as a child, she contracted a light case of diphtheria when her uncle suffered from it and died. Survivors of diphtheria often developed a weakened heart from the ravages of the disease, and after six pregnancies in rapid succession, Regina's physical reserves were severely depleted. Even after the immediate danger of an epidemic had passed, it was never certain what the lingering effects would be.

Regina was laid to rest at Saron Lutheran Cemetery, near the old Winje farm. Her headstone has an image of two hands clasping, along with the following engraving in Norwegian: [4]

Farvel [Farewell]
Berthine R. Strand
Dode [Died] Jan 22, 1899
Alder 25 Jahr, 6 M, 10 D [Aged 25 years, 6 months, and 10 days]



Saron Lutheran Church, Chippewa County, Minnesota, ca. 1915.  Minnesota Historical Society, Photographs Collection.  Location no. MC4.5 p11.  Negative no. 58207.  Photographer:  Louis Enstrom (1873-1947).

There were more than a few decisions for the family to make after Regina's sudden loss. Like most women, Regina, as wife, mother, and granddaughter, had been the glue holding the family together throughout the daily routines. Ragnild Winje, advancing in age, could not possibly take care of five energetic young boys alone, while her son-in-law, Thomas Strand, kept to the fields each day in order to continue farming and maintain their livelihood. As a strangely prophetic turnabout, the newborn, Thomas Raymond, was sent to live with his maternal grandparents, Eric and Thibertine Winje. It was they who had given the baby's mother, Regina, to her grandparents, Lars and Ragnild Winje, nearly 25 years earlier.





The Strand family on the old Winje farm in Sparta Township, Chippewa County, soon after Regina Strand’s death in 1899. An album lays opened on the table with a photo of a baby displayed (possibly the infant, Thomas Raymond Strand). Left to right: the three eldest Strand boys (Arthur, Elmer, Theodore), Thomas Strand (seated), Matilda (Tilda) Nelson, Ragnild Winje (seated), Lambert Strand, and two unidentified men- the one on the far right holding a Jack Russell terrier (possibly her brother, Edward Winje?).

Thomas Strand's duty to his family necessitated finding a housekeeper as quickly as possible. In local-born Matilda Nelson, he found a healthy young woman with the stamina necessary to chase four young boys about the farm, as well as take on most of the household duties that had previously been relegated to Regina. After several years of building a bond through daily routines together, Thomas and "Tilda" were married in 1902, and promptly began a family of their own, which eventually included eight children: Alvin, Stella, Noel, Gearda, Olaf, Gerhardt, Maude, and Margaret. Strand eventually became one of the best-known farmers in Sparta Township. He purchased the homestead outright from his mother-in-law, Ragnild Winje, and continued to care for her until she passed away. [5]

In looking over the brief details known about Regina's life, she was obviously a dutiful daughter who did her best to live up to her parents and grandparents expectations. She may have found a purpose and direction of her own by marrying young, hopefully finding love in addition, though she continued to serve her family above all else. Regina's beauty could have instead led her toward vanity and unrealistic expectations, but it is doubtful she ever considered taking advantage of her gift.

When fate called Regina in the prime of her young adulthood, she left a legacy of personal sacrifice and acceptance that continued to strengthen her husband and sons, as well as grandchildren, who faced the future without her help and guidance. Regina's story is similar to the lives of many American pioneer women who suffered day to day hardships without complaint, hoping only for increased opportunity and better lives for their children and descendants.



Photographs (except the image of Saron Lutheran Church) are from the Johnson and Winje family collections. All rights reserved.

[1] Letter, Regina Winje, Wegdahl, Chippewa County, Minnesota, to Doran Wessel, Seattle, WA, Oct. 23, 1888; In Regina's signature, the middle initial "E." stands for "Eriksdatter," her patronymic name; note the typically Norwegian self-depreciation in the last line: "I must now end my poor writing with a greeting to you."
[2] A sixth child died in childbirth: obituary for Regina (Mrs. Thos. Strand), Montevideo Leader, ? January 1899 (copy in the possession of the author).
[3] Death certificate for Berthe Regine Strand, January 22, 1899, Sparta Township, Chippewa County, Minnesota.
[4] Information from Regina Winje Strand's headstone acquired by the author's visit to Saron Lutheran Cemetery, Chippewa County, Minnesota, September 2002.
[5] A biography of Thomas E. Strand is included in: L. R. Moyer and O.G. Dale, joint editors. History of Chippewa and Lac qui Parle Counties, Minnesota. Indianapolis, Indiana: B.F. Bown & Company, Inc., 1916. Vol. II, pp.127-128.

Give Me a House on the Prairie

In 1886, at age 25, my great grandfather Ole Martin Johnson married and brought his 17-year-old bride, Malla, to live on the farm his parents had handed down to him. Located in Section 18 of Granite Falls Township 116-N, Chippewa County, Minnesota, the homestead was begun by Ole's parents, Baard and Thibertine Johnson in 1868. It bordered tree-lined Hawk Creek, a tributary of the Minnesota River.

The Johnsons, along with their six-year-old son, Ole, and four-year-old daughter, Ellen Julie (Julia), arrived in America in 1866 from Nord-Troendelag, Norway. They first stayed in Goodhue County, Minnesota for a couple of years before deciding to settle on newly available land along the Minnesota River to the west. In order to "prove up" his homestead, Baard Johnson built a two-room cabin on the property in Norwegian cotter style, with a decorative Scandinavian gable over the small entryway. I believe it is the same cabin that still stands on the property today, though the land has not been owned by family members since about 1901.

After Baard Johnson died in 1872, his widow, Bertina, remarried and began another family. It was soon after this marriage that a new and larger farmhouse was built on the property, but it was located farther from the creek and closer to the road. When Bertina and her second family moved to Duluth in eastern Minnesota so that her husband could pursue a career as an attorney, she offered the homestead to Ole, her eldest son, as his rightful inheritance.

The farmhouse Ole Johnson inherited, and probably helped build, had an L-shaped floor plan commonly used on the Midwestern prairie at that time. Downstairs was a kitchen with an entrance off a back porch, a parlor with tall windows to let in as much light as possible, a front porch, and a bedroom that drew some warmth from the kitchen. The upstairs consisted of two unheated bedrooms that could get quite chilly in winter. Ole Johnson's mother, Bertina, must have brought some of her children into the world in that back bedroom behind the kitchen, as would his wife, Malla (Larson), probably attended by her sister-in-lay, Julia (Johnson) Larson.

House on the Johnson farm in 1941.  Granite Falls Township, Chippewa County,
 Minnesota. (Photographer:  Doris Johnson)

The kitchen of any 19th century farmhouse was the hub from which family members and others constantly came and went between endless rounds of chores. Children and hired help lingered at the farm table as long as they dared, drawn by the comfort of the trusty black stove and compelling aromas of freshly baked bread, warm lefse and butter, or a simmering venison stew. At most hours of the day, Malla Johnson could be found there, busy with cooking and canning, washing, knitting and darning, churning, chatting, and preparing baths, as well as nurturing, while her husband, Ole, took care of the farm and farm buildings.

The photograph above was taken by my mother while she still lived in Minnesota. During the summer of 1941, a group of relatives went to visit the old homestead property. Years later, the old house was torn down because it was in a state of disrepair and had begun to be used as a "party house" by local youth.

I like to dream about owning one of the houses my great grandfather built, either this one, or the one he built some 35 years later, near the village of Leonard in Clearwater County, Minnesota. It is sad that more houses of this character and age have not been preserved for the sake of history.

I doubt that future generations will ever look at a house I've lived in and think quite the same nostalgic thoughts, for there was something very special about the first immigrant generations in America. Their homes were simple and functional, and their way of life, well, there was nothing cushy about it. My farming ancestors sweated for each gain and every meal on the table. Early American pioneers experienced a connection to land and community that we do not often find in modern times. They had an intense appreciation of the acreage they acquired to plow, sew, and reap, and to form as one willed. After the limited availability and nearly impossible prospects of land ownership in Norway, new life and opportunity in America was a dream come true for my great great grandparents.

If I were given a time machine, the first place I would want to visit would be the 1870s homestead on the southwest Minnesota prairie, where this house was built. Hand me an apron, tie back my hair, and sink me up to my elbows in flour on the rough hewn table by the cast iron stove. I'll try not to mind too much when my arms become solidly black and blue from chicken pecks while collecting eggs, just like Malla. In the spirit of my ancestors, I would carry out my days uncomplaining, knowing that my work and sacrifice would bring a universe of opportunities for my children, and their children. And, so it has. How lucky we are that we no longer have to work so hard in order to live, and yet, how we yearn for the straightforward, sincere toil of our ancestors, and their infinite hope.

Faces from the Past

A beautiful child is timeless...















Laura Basgaard (1884-1982)
The seventh of nine children, Laura was born in Polk County, Minnesota to Norwegian immigrants Ole S. Basgaard and Severine (Larson). Her mother, Severine Theresa, was the eldest sibling of my great grandmother, Malla (Larson) Johnson. As an adult, Laura became the wife of Albert C. Corliss, a street car conductor in Fargo, North Dakota.
_________________________

Sources:

Laura Corliss. Social Security Death Index: 502-26-3501; Issue State: North Dakota;Issue Date: Before 1951.

Warren UpHam. Compendium of history and biography of Polk County, Minnesota [Minneapolis: W.H. Bingham & Co.], 1916, p.340.

Image: Emma, Hilda, and Laura Basgaard. Portion of a cabinet card, ca. early 1890s.Photograph is part of a Victorian-era photograph album privately held by the family of Ole M. and Malla Johnson of Leonard, Clearwater County, Minnesota.

Passport Applications: Eyes Into the Past

I paid another visit to Ancestry.com recently to "re-search" some individuals, and ended up striking gold. Since the last time I went hunting there, an entry had been made for Eric L. Winje under the "U.S. Passport Applications, 1795-1925" category. The family history has already been written and has gone to press, but it is never too late to satisfy one's curiosity, plus, the belated information can always be saved for another project... or, just for a rainy day.

Eric Larsen Winje was my great great grandmother's (Thibertine "Bertina" Johnson Winje's) second husband; the couple had eight children together between 1872-1885. It was shortly after this portrait sitting that Winje made a trip back to Norway to visit his home town of Vinjeoera in Hemne.

The Eric L. Winje family in Duluth, Minnesota, 1888. Left to right: Edward (in front), Louis, Eric, Regina, Emma, and Bertina (Eric's wife). This photograph was likely taken just after the deaths of the two youngest children, Hattie and Annie. Lena, another child, is not present in the family portrait and may have been ill at the time.

Eric and Bertina Winje had lost an infant daughter (Emma M.) to diphtheria on the Chippewa prairie in 1878, followed by their two youngest and red-headed daughters, Hattie Christine and Annie Jorgene, who also succumbed to the ravages of the disease during the spring of 1888. In 1893, their eldest son, Louis Peter, was drowned during a shipwreck in Duluth Harbor to which, tragically, his father was a witness. Within a couple of years after his son's death, Eric Winje decided that he needed a vacation far and away from the familiar cityscape of Duluth, Minnesota, where he worked as an attorney. Perhaps a visit to the old country was just what he needed to overcome some of his grief and put a sense of balance back into his life again.

Initially, I did not know exactly when Eric Winje made the trip back to Norway, and if his wife or any of the children accompanied him. There was mention of the trip made by Markus Wessel in an article about Winje, his parents and brother, and their emigration to the United States from Vinjeoera, Soer-Troendelag: "En Utvandrerfamilie fra VinjeØra i 1869." I found the answers to these questions, and more, within the passport application. According to the document, which was submitted on April 10, 1885, Winje declined to include his wife or any of his children in the application (this is the part that is scratched out following his name, near the top of the document).


Early passport applications contain a wealth of information, including birth statistics, date of emigration, name of sailing vessel, length of residence within the U.S., and date of naturalization, as well as the occupation, address, and signature of the individual.

From the document, I am able to surmise that Winje made his visit back to Hemne, Soer Troendelag, Norway during the summer of 1895, but I can also visualize him more clearly as a 44 year-old man of 5'11" in height, with brown hair, an "ordinary" nose, gray eyes, and a retreating forehead--also possessing a smallish mouth he preferred to keep covered by a full beard, and a mostly light complexion that was colored by ruddy or flushed cheeks.

Eric L. Winje: I'm glad to know you better, and it is all because you decided to take that vacation in Norway, to see old friends and recuperate from difficult trials in the new world. I hope it helped...

Wordless Wednesday

Hannah Parr

An early Norwegian emigrant ship

Sorry, I just can't do this one completely wordless...

The Hannah Parr is the ship that my Great Great Grandfather, Gulbran Olsen Berge, sailed on from Chrisitiania (Oslo), Norway to Quebec in North America during the spring of 1868. It is perhaps the most documented of these early sailing voyages because of a severe storm encountered at sea, after which the ship and all aboard, some 400 emigrants, were waylaid in Limerick, Ireland for lengthy repairs. It's quite a story!

See a gallery of Hannah Parr 1868 voyage images, have a look at my ancestor's sea voyage diary and others, or read the background essay about the voyage at Norway Heritage.com--one of the best websites for Norwegian genealogical research.

The Dirty Thirties: No Easy Street, Part III

A Hand Up, Not a Hand-Out

Ernest Johnson, my grandfather, was unable to eek out a living in the 1930s solely by raising crops on his small farm in rural Leonard, Minnesota. One of many places he out-sourced his physical labor was at the Hoover Dam construction site on the Arizona/Nevada border, about 35 miles southeast of Las Vegas. My mother does not remember exactly how long her father was away from home while working at the site, but it seemed a long time to a girl in her early teens. In any case, the employment probably extended for a period of six months up to a year, somewhere between 1931-1935.

Grampa was not a large man, perhaps standing about 5'5" or so, but like others of his generation and before, he could work extremely hard. I still have one of the shirts that he was fond of wearing: a sturdy button-down wool flannel in a red and gray plaid. When he outgrew it by a few spare pounds in his elder years, he gave it to my mother. She wore it outside while gardening for quite awhile after that and then passed it down to me. I am only 5'1" but I have never really been able to wear that shirt, in a man's small size. It rests, lovingly folded, among other treasured items in my cedar chest.

I remember sitting on Grampa's lap as a child, but being very young, I had no sense of how he compared to others back then. He was just "Grampa"--my only grandfather--with an interesting accent and a crinkly smile. He sometimes smelled of pipe tobacco or bacon, and I never knew him to go anywhere without a hat or cap. I always understood that underneath that shy smile and spare, straight talk there was an unshakeable fortitude... a fierceness even, that I'll liken to a pioneer spirit. I felt safe whenever he was near. Grampa loved a good laugh, but he had no tolerance for utter foolishness. I was more than okay with that since since I was a rather subdued child to begin with, but I really only wanted to please him, or any of my elders, for that matter.

I wish I knew something specific about the work my grandfather did on Hoover Dam, which was renamed Boulder Dam in May 1933. The family just always knew that Grampa spent a fair amount of time working on "that dam with the two names." To be certain, it was some variety of sweaty, back-breaking labor under the heat of the desert sun: there was no escaping it in one of the hottest and dryest regions of the United States.



A vintage postcard.



Work on Boulder City began in December 1930. The original plan called for completion of the town before work on the dam began, but the construction schedule for the dam was accelerated, and the town was not ready when the first dam workers arrived at the site in early 1931. During the first summer of construction, workers were housed in temporary camps while work on the town progressed... [1]

It is likely that Ernest Johnson arrived in Boulder City by train and lived in a company dormitory. Reporting to work each day, he had to stop at security check point and present an employee card. All those entering the work site were expected to obey the posted regulations, which included not bringing "intoxicating liquors, narcotics, explosives, or firearms..." onto the site. Many employees rode in large groups on the large motor lorry ("Big Bertha"). [2]

The road from Boulder City to the canyon rim, about seven miles, was constructed for the Government by the General Construction Company. Designed to transport men and equipment to and from the dam site, these roads later formed a link in the main highway between Las Vegas and Kingman, Arizona. [3]

The U. S. Bureau of Reclamation posted signs along the trecherous canyon rim:

Men Are Working--

Please Refrain From Rolling or Throwing Rocks [4]

To accommodate the workers and their families at Boulder City, Six Companies constructed housing for both single and married employees, a fully stocked department store, a post-office, laundry, recreation hall, school, and hospital. Single employees at Boulder City were housed in eight 171-man dormitories, and one 53-man dormitory. The bunkhouses contained water coolers, toilets, and one shower for every 13 men. For $1.60 per day, workers received a private room with a bed, mattress, pillow, bedding, a chair, meals, and transportation to and from the construction site. In addition to the dormitories at Boulder City, Six Companies constructed six dormitories and a 400 man mess hall at Cape Horn, a bend in the river downstream from the dam site. [5]

The concrete arch-gravity Hoover/Boulder Dam was the world's largest electric-power generating station and largest concrete structure when it was completed in 1935. For images of the construction, visit the Bureau of Reclamation Hoover Dam website.

When Ernest Johnson ended his stretch of employment at the site, he remembered his daughters before heading back home to Minnesota with his earnings. At a local store, perhaps in Las Vegas, he purchased a purse and a pearl necklace for each of them. These were very special presents for the girls, particularly during the Depression era, although they never received their necklaces. Someone stole the pearls from among Ernest's belongings before he left the dormitory. Strangely enough, the purses were left behind--unlawful greed mixed with a twinge of guilt on the part of the thief? Or, perhaps the purses were simply not as portable as the jewelry. Grampa, being a practical man, had allowed a certain amount of money for presents, and when the necklaces were gone... well, they were gone. The thief was lucky to have gotten away undetected, because Grampa could be hot-tempered if the need arose, and he was not afraid to defend himself. Although my mother and aunt were disappointed over the loss of the necklaces, they did appreciate their father's thoughtfulness, and they treasured their purses all the more. My mother still has hers to this day: a hand-carved leather shoulder bag with a metal clasp.

While back on his farm in Leonard, Minnesota, Ernest Johnson used some of his WPA wages to buy new seed, after which he spent a few years successfully raising alfalfa, flax and clover to sell for feed. He found it increasingly difficult to farm due to a physical incapacity, however. Years before, a horse had stepped on his ankle, and arthritis had slowly set in.




Ernest Johnson with his dog, Pee Wee, near Leonard, Minnesota in 1941.  The photo was taken
 a few years before he sold his farm and moved to Richmond, California.



 

In preparation for his retirement years, Ernest Johnson sold his farm at age 56 and moved to Richmond, California along the Pacific coast. He went to work as a custodian for the Ford Motor Company in 1945, first living in a boarding house due to a housing shortage, and then renting a room atop a water tower. Other family members, his two daughters included, had already made the move out west from Minnesota, since California was the land of new opportunity to midwesterners after the heavy industrialization experienced during World War II.

As with many others during the Depression era, the WPA wages from the Hoover/Boulder Dam reconstruction project and others gave my grandfather the means to support himself until he was ready to make the transition from farming to a different way of life. It was not a hand-out, but a "hand up." Thus, those who were willing to work hard and carefully use whatever wages could be earned, were able to turn the "Dirty Thirties" to their advantage, in spite of difficult times, as did my grandfather.



[1, 3, 5] The Boulder Canyon Project: Hoover Dam, by Wm. Joe Simonds
[2, 4] The Boulder Canyon Project, AKA Hoover Dam

The Dirty Thirties: No Easy Street, Part II

How You Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm?

My grandfather's family was, almost unamiously, stubborn and proud: not so proud that they would not help one another, but proud enough that they would never have accepted outright charity. When Franklin Roosevelt's legislation resulted in the Social Security Administration and unemployment insurance began in 1935, it would have been a "foreign" idea to my Norwegian-American relations. I'm sure they eventually got used to the idea, but if there was a way to survive, unemployed, and not burden anyone but close family, they would have certainly have preferred that to being "on the dole."[1]

President Franklin Roosevelt's Works Progress Administration (renamed the Work Projects Administration in 1939) officially began with the passage of the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act of 1935. It served as a continuation of relief programs similar to the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (RFC) started in 1932 by Herbert Hoover and the U.S. Congress. Both programs were meant to provide the means for many out-of-work individuals to bring home a wage and put food on the table, though the WPA--part of FDR's New Deal--would be much more succesful.

Even before the RFC or WPA, a large scale project came into being in the midwest that provided over 20,000 with temporary work at the beginning of the Depression era. My grandfather, Ernest Johnson, was one of the lucky hopefuls who were not turned away for the building of the Bagnell Dam in central Missouri. The trip out from Minnesota was neither too far nor too ardous when the promise of months of wages were at stake during the 1930s.

I do not know exactly how long Grampa worked at the site, or even what type of work he did, but the construction of Bagnell Dam was begun during the later half of 1929 and completed in 1931. The following images are from 1931 postcards that my grandfather brought home to Leonard, Minnesota to give to my mother and aunt as keepsakes.

Bagnell Dam, Missouri, in 1931 (Postcard #1)

Bagnell Dam, Missouri, 1931 (Postcard #2)

Records show more than 20,000 people worked on the project at one time or another. Although there were some steam shovels and other powered equipment, most labor was done by hand. Pay rates for construction workers were as low as 35 cents an hour. But during the Depression era, when a person could be hired for farm work for 50 cents a day, workers were glad to make the wage.
The project was truly massive. Nearly 60,000 acres of land had to be acquired, and about 30,000 acres cleared of trees and brush. One million cubic yards of earth and rock had to be moved. Enough concrete was poured to build an 18-foot-wide highway from St. Louis to Topeka, Kansas. Enough carloads of material were used in the dam to fill a freight train stretching from St. Louis to Tulsa, Oklahoma. [2]

For more information and photographs, see also the interactive online book, The History of Bagnell Dam, at the Lake of the Ozarks website.

I wish I had specific stories about the time my grandfather spent at the Bagnell Dam, but these personal memories and observations are lost to history. I am sure he told a few tales to his brothers and nephews, but they did not filter down to my mother and aunt--his own daughters. Perhaps if they had been sons instead, Ernest would have shared a few yarns with them, if only to see their eyes open wide in fear or amazement. But, since the Johnson girls did not live in the same house as their father, and they were not of the same gender, my mother and aunt missed out on a lot of the tales of male bravado. Girls were apparently meant to be protected and be useful in earning their keep. Although Ernest Johnson brought his daughters chocolate, treats, small gifts, and even pets upon occasion, he apparently did not spend a lot of time talking to them about his past. What a pity!
If my grandfather were alive today, I would not let him get away from the table without telling me a story or two. When I knew him, I was too young to be assertive (he died when I was 16), and I did not even know what to ask at the time. You know how they say that youth is wasted on the young? I'm afraid so, especially when it comes to genealogy.
In the late 1930s, Ernest Johnson again left his farm in rural Clearwater County, Minnesota, to work on the construction of the Hoover (Boulder) Dam near Las Vegas, Nevada--a bona fide WPA project.

To be continued in Part III


[1] "On the dole": a giving of food, money, or clothing to the needy; a grant of government funds to the unemployed.
[2] History of Bagnell Dam

The Dirty Thirties: No Easy Street

Ernest Johnson Begins Farming

During the Depression era, independent farmers like my maternal grandfather, Ernest Johnson, found it increasingly difficult to earn a living from planting and harvesting, and frequently supplemented their income through other work. The following story tells how he coped and managed to keep his small farm through difficult economic times in the 1920s and 1930s.

Ernest and Esther Johnson in March 1917.
Fosston, Polk County, Minnesota.

My Grampa Johnson was a farmer in rural Minnesota from 1914-1945. Like his nine brothers and sisters, Ernest Johnson had a Norwegian accent all of his life, even though he and his siblings were all born in America. English was something primarily used at school and social functions, while Norwegian was spoken at home. Upon leaving his parents' farm in 1914, Ernest purchased a plot of land about three miles outside of Leonard, Minnesota in Clearwater County, where Mississippi headwaters trickle from Lake Itasca, mirroring lush pines and running crisp and clear on the long journey to the Delta in the Gulf of Mexico. When Ernest married Esther Agnes Berge on March 22, 1917, he brought his shy, deferential, and bespectacled bride to live on that small farm. In a little clapboard farmhouse with one room up and one room down, my aunt and mother were born, in 1918 and 1920, respectively.




The farmhouse where my mother was born near Leonard, Minnesota, ca. 1920.



Ernest Johnson lived down the road from his parents and some of his siblings. For many years, the creed among farmers, including his grandparents as Norwegian-American homesteaders, was that neighbor helped neighbor, and especially, family helped family. Family is the main reason Ernest's parents left behind a picturesque and productive farm in the green and forest-rimmed fields outside Fosston in Polk County, so that they could follow him and his older brother, Bennett, to Leonard, over twenty miles away. Keeping the family together was not only ideal, but prudent, especially when there was hard labor to be done on a regular basis.

Though the newlyweds were off to a good start, Ernest and Esther's marriage was tragically short. Before their younger daughter celebrated her second birthday, Esther fell mortally ill with tuberculosis and died in January 1922. As per their mother's deathbed request, the young girls were sent to live with their paternal grandparents down the road, Ole M. and Malla Johnson, in order to be close to their father as they grew. It was painfully obvious that Ernest would not have the time nor resources to care for his two young daughters as long as perpetual and solitary work awaited him in the fields. And, what of the autumn and winters, when he must travel here and there to bring in some kind of income? No, it was far better that the little tow-headed girls, Phyllis and Doris, be watched over by their grandparents and a maiden aunt, Mabel, who could help supervise them and make their clothing.

Phyllis and Doris Johnson, Sept. 1921.

Once again a bachelor, Ernest applied himself to whatever would bring in enough money to pay the bills and buy seed. He helped on his parents' and brothers' farms, grew what small crops he could, and took pleasure in training and caring for his horses. Ernest's young nephews and their friends delighted in visiting someone who was "batching it." They could also ride horses away from the critical eyes of their mothers, and Ernest helped their fun along with some of his tricks. His horses were trained to stop dead in their tracks when he snapped his fingers, which sometimes left young riders clinging frantically to whatever they could, like real bronco busters. Ernest Johnson's farm was also a place where boys might find some privacy to steal a taste of their first cigar, or make successful raids on the cooky jar without the usual repercusions at home. Ernest may have been a longtime widower, but he knew how to fend for himself in the kitchen. He made his own doughnuts and canned apples, peaches, and other fruit... and he always kept the cooky jar full, too.

Ernest Johnson shows off his prized team of horses, Tony and Birdie.
My grandfather was very fond of this photograph, taken on his farm
near Leonard, Minnesota, May 2, 1943.

Whenever he could, Ernest Johnson raised sheep and planted seed crops such as flax, clover, and alfalfa, using only horses and a plow. He hunted game and fished to supplement both his larder and his income. He often traveled away from Leonard to help with late summer harvests in the fields of South Dakota and also drove drays for logging companies in the forests of northern Minnesota--hiring himself out however he could. He was often away from home for months at a time, leaving family and neighbors to tend to his livestock, and he returned such favors for them. Truth be told, he even attempted a little bootlegging on the side, but it was thankfully a short-lived venture that ended when others blew up the still during his absence.

With the onset of the 20th Century and increased industry, family-run farms began to struggle. Ernest's father, Ole M. Johnson, had made a success out of his own farm without once using a tractor, but he'd had decades of early midwestern development to build upon his success and reputation. For Ernest's generation, when so many small farms reached for a foothold in existing markets, independence by farming was harder to achieve, especially when the stock market crash of 1929 darkened the forseeable future. When the money was gone and seasonal jobs were harder to find, Ernest Johnson, bachelor farmer, began to look long and hard at new federal programs created by President Herbert Hoover and Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal, and the promise of jobs with the Work Projects Administration (WPA). Unemployment insurance would not become available until after 1935, but even then, many farmers who were independently employed were not eligible for the "Dole," as it was often called.


To be continued in Part II...

Wordless Wednesday

This WPA poster from the late 1930s, designed by Vera Bock, is just as applicable today as it was then. It's also the perfect segway into my next blog entry.

Image source: American Memory Project. Reference: Posters of the WPA / Christopher DeNoon. Los Angeles : Wheatly Press, c1987, frontspiece.

New Book Review of "A Long Way Downstream"

Much to my surprise, I found a short new book review of my family history, A Long Way Downstream: The Life and Family of Thibertine Johnson Winje, Norwegian-American Pioneer at the Minnesota Historical Society. Oh wait, can it get any better? Apparently, the curator at the library recommended my book to the National Library of Norway, in Oslo. My great great grandmother Thibertine is now off in the mail, returning to the Old Country. You'd better believe that I'm tickled purple over that!

I'm In Print!

I am very pleased to announce that an article I've written, "The Naturalist and His Camera" has just been published in Old News, a publication of Seattle's Museum of History and Industry (Spring 2009, vol.9, no.1). The "naturalist" refers to Lawrence Denny Lindsley, a Washington State photographer and explorer. Although this has nothing to do with my family's genealogy, it has a lot to do with Lindsley's family history, and I am thoroughly enjoying the research involved with a much larger, related project.

For information on membership and/or events at MOHAI, see the website at http://www.seattlehistory.org/.

The 99 Things + Genealogy Meme

Becky at Kinexxions began this genealogy meme. In her blog entry, she wrote:

"With the help of the genea-blogging community a list of genealogy things related to, or associated with, your genealogy research has been created, thus 'The 99+ Genealogy Things Meme' is born! It was inspired by The 99 Things Meme and a suggestion by a post on the MoSGA
Messenger (Missouri State Genealogical Association) blog. Contributors to the list were: Thomas MacEntee (items 31-43), Donna Pointkouski (44-73), LOOKING4ANCESTORS (83-87), Kathryn
Doyle (78-83), and Bibliaugrapher (88-92) who also reminded us that the list should be international in scope (Thank you). And I'm to blame for the first 30 items as well as items 74-77 and 93-99 (#97 is courtesy of a commentor on Donna's blog). Greta Koehl left a comment with items 100-104, which I couldn't resist! How could we forget the Happy Dance! LOL."

If you would like to participate, the list should be annotated in the following manner (no tagging of others is necessary):

Things you have already done or found: bold face type
Things you would like to do or find: italicize (color optional)
Things you haven’t done or found and don’t care to: plain type

The 99 Things + Genealogy List:


1. Belonged to a genealogical society.
2. Researched records onsite at a court house.
3. Transcribed records.
4. Uploaded tombstone pictures to Find-A-Grave.
5. Documented ancestors for four generations (self, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents) .
6. Joined Facebook.
7. Helped to clean up a run-down cemetery.
8. Joined the Genea-Bloggers Group on Facebook.
9. Attended a genealogy conference.
10. Lectured at a genealogy conference.
11. Spoke on a genealogy topic at a local genealogy society.
12. Have been the editor of a genealogy society newsletter.
13. Contributed to a genealogy society publication.
14. Served on the board or as an officer of a genealogy society.
15. Got lost on the way to a cemetery.
16. Talked to dead ancestors.
17. Researched outside the state in which I live.
18. Knocked on the door of an ancestral home and visited with the current occupants.
19. Cold called a distant relative.
20. Posted messages on a surname message board.
21. Uploaded a gedcom file to the internet.
22. Googled my name.
23. Performed a random act of genealogical kindness.
24. Researched a non-related family, just for the fun of it.
25. Been paid to do genealogical research.
26. Earn a living (majority of income) from genealogical research.
27. Wrote a letter (or email) to a previously unknown relative.
28. Contributed to one of the genealogy carnivals.
29. Responded to messages on a message board or forum.
30. Was injured while on a genealogy excursion.
31. Participated in a genealogy meme.
32. Created family history gift items (calendars, cookbooks, etc.).
33. Performed a record lookup for someone else.
34. Went on a genealogy seminar cruise.
35. Am convinced that a relative must have arrived here from outer space.
36. Found a disturbing family secret.
37. Told others about a disturbing family secret.
38. Combined genealogy with crafts (family picture quilt, scrapbooking).
39. Think genealogy is a passion not a hobby.
40. Assisted finding next of kin for a deceased person (Unclaimed Persons).
41. Taught someone else how to find their roots.
42. Lost valuable genealogy data due to a computer crash or hard drive failure.
43. Been overwhelmed by available genealogy technology.
44. Know a cousin of the 4th degree or higher.
45. Disproved a family myth through research.
46. Got a family member to let you copy photos.
47. Used a digital camera to “copy” photos or records.
48. Translated a record from a foreign language.
49. Found an immigrant ancestor’s passenger arrival record.
50. Looked at census records on microfilm, not on the computer.
51. Used microfiche.
52. Visited the Family History Library in Salt Lake City.
53. Visited more than one LDS Family History Center.
54. Visited a church or place of worship of one of your ancestors.
55. Taught a class in genealogy.
56. Traced ancestors back to the 18th Century.
57. Traced ancestors back to the 17th Century.
58. Traced ancestors back to the 16th Century.
59. Can name all of your great-great-grandparents.
60. Found an ancestor’s Social Security application.
61. Know how to determine a soundex code without the help of a computer.
62. Used Steve Morse’s One-Step searches.
63. Own a copy of Evidence Explained by Elizabeth Shown Mills.
64. Helped someone find an ancestor using records you had never used for your own research.
65. Visited the main National Archives building in Washington, DC.
66. Visited the Library of Congress.
67. Have an ancestor who came over on the Mayflower.
68. Have an ancestor who fought in the Civil War.
69. Taken a photograph of an ancestor’s tombstone.
70. Became a member of the Association of Graveyard Rabbits.
71. Can read a church record in Latin.
72. Have an ancestor who changed their name.
73. Joined a Rootsweb mailing list.
74. Created a family website.
75. Have more than one "genealogy" blog.
76. Was overwhelmed by the amount of family information received from someone.
77. Have broken through at least one brick wall.
78. Visited the DAR Library in Washington D.C.
79. Borrowed a microfilm from the Family History Library through a local Family History Center.
80. Have done indexing for Family Search Indexing or another genealogy project.
81. Visited the Allen County Public Library Genealogy Center in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
82. Had an amazing serendipitous find of the "Psychic Roots" variety.
83. Have an ancestor who was a Patriot in the American Revolutionary War.
84. Have an ancestor who was a Loyalist in the American Revolutionary War.
85. Have both Patriot & Loyalist ancestors.
86. Have used Border Crossing records to locate an ancestor.
87. Use maps in my genealogy research.
88. Have a convict ancestor who was transported from the UK.
89. Found a bigamist amongst the ancestors.
90. Visited the National Archives in Kew.
91. Visited St. Catherine's House in London to find family records.
92. Found a cousin in [Norway] (or other foreign country).
93. Consistently cite my sources.
94. Visited a foreign country [Canada] (i.e. one I don't live in) in search of ancestors.
95. Can locate any document in my research files within a few minutes.
96. Have an ancestor who was married four times (or more).
97. Made a rubbing of an ancestors gravestone.
98. Organized a family reunion.
99. Published a family history book (on one of my families).
100.Learned of the death of a fairly close relative through research.
101.Have done the genealogy happy dance.
102.Sustained an injury doing the genealogy happy dance.
103.Offended a family member with my research.
104.Reunited someone with precious family photos or artifacts.


Great list--it really gives perspective on how committed the genealogy-impassioned can be.

Nordic Blue Has Bad Break

...Literally!

Just before Christmas, while at work--in the middle of moving to a new house and the worst winter weather the Pacific NW has seen in a long time--I managed to slip and break my wrist. I didn't plan it that way, since this Mountain Girl knows how to walk on snow and ice, but there was an unseen patch of ice underneath soft snow that I could hardly have avoided. I am in a cast and typing one-handed, so this is going to slow me down for a few weeks. I hope you each had a safe and warm holiday with your loved ones, whatever the weather in your neck of the woods.

Dear Genea-Santa

This post is written for the 62nd (whew!) edition of the Carnival of Genealogy. The topic is Three Wishes.

This is your chance to write a letter to Genea-Santa*. Make a list of 3 gifts you would like to receive this holiday season from 3 of your ancestors. These have to be material things, not clues to your family history (we're talking gifts here, not miracles!). Do you wish your great grandmother had gifted you a cameo broach? Or maybe you'd like to have the family bible from great great grandpa Joe? How about a baby doll that once belonged to your dear Aunt Sarah?
This is a fantasy so you can dream up gift items. They don't have to be actual items that you know your ancestors owned. However, they do have to be historically accurate to the time period in which your ancestor lived. Do your research. No asking for a new computer from your great grand aunt! Genea-Santa wouldn't like that ;-) The deadline for submissions is December 15th.

*Genea-Santa is a non-denominational guy. He's happy to accept lists from members of all faiths and from atheists as well.

Dear Genea-Santa,

If I could have three things from my ancestors this Christmas, I have just the list.

First of all, I would love to have a Victorian remembrance card woven with some of my great great grandmother's auburn hair. She (Bertina Johnson Winje) gave a card just like that just to her son, Ole. My mother said that when she was a small girl on her grandparents' farm, that keepsake card was safely tucked inside the Johnson family bible. I have never seen the card myself, because it was lost some years later, before I was born. I have always been told that Bertina had lovely red hair, but since I do not have a color photograph of her. I would like to see it for myself.

Then, perhaps you would consider tracking down my great grandmother's wedding dress from 1886? Malla Johnson was a very frugal woman, so she may have cut off the train, let out the seams, and found a way to use it many times over in later years. But, I would want it just the way it appeared in her wedding photograph. It had a tiny, long-sleeved fitted jacket with cuff and collars, and a full skirt with resplendent layers of ruffles, all in black silk. It fit her perfectly, and, 17-year-old bride that she was, she looked so lovely with her big, wide eyes and freshly pin-curled bangs. I think it must have been one of the prettiest dresses any of my ancestors, modest farming folk all of them, ever wore, and I'm sure her mother helped hand sew it.

Last, but not least, is a funny sort of a request. My Great Aunt Mabel Johnson was the closest thing to a grandmother I knew. She had no children of her own, but somewhat of a kid at heart, she never turned down a card game of "Old Maid," a challenge in a coloring book, or the opportunity to go to the park. She distracted naughty children by using a clicker, rather than getting upset or scolding, and she loved to sing silly songs and tell jokes. If it wouldn't be too much to ask, I'd like to have that colorful decorative plate that always hung on the wall above her kitchen stove, serving no real purpose other than to catch cooking grease and dust. The plate was typical 1950s kitchen kitsch: it had two raised angel fish motifs and swirls of purple, black, turquoise, and yellow that didn't really go with anything else. Perhaps it is fixed in my memory more than many other things because it was so mismatched. But, thinking of it reminds me of Mabel's little house with the detached garage, the old ringer washer on the laundry porch, the sea green Depression glass cups and saucer that always came out with coffee and cookies, and her dogs, Tula, and then Buffy, curling up on a towel that protected the seat of the biggest overstuffed chair I had ever seen.

Anyway, Dear Genea-Santa, I have tried my best to be a good girl this year, but if you can't manage all three wishes, I understand. Sometimes the wanting of things is better than the having, and you of all people can appreciate the power of imagination.

Happy Holidays, and please watch your cholesterol levels on Christmas Eve; we want you to be around for a long time to come...

Chery

Unravelling History's Mysteries Through Genealogical Research

Mysteries throughout history can be brought to light through family history research. An example is this inspiring story involving a World War II tragedy, published by USA Today on March 12, 2008.

"Three sons of Lt. Commander Jim Abele, located their father's missing submarine, 'The Grunion." Three women - now affectionately dubbed the sub ladies - have taken it upon themselves to make sure the 70 men who went down with The Grunion are not forgotten..."

"'Sub lades' Uncover Tale of Lost Crew"

"The story is part mystery (Why did the sub go down?), part genealogical search(Who were these rakish-looking men?), but mostly it's a love story. A labor-of-love story."

Story Behind Famous Dustbowl Photo

Look what's on CNN today: the story behind the black and white classic "Migrant Mother" Dustbowl-era photograph taken by Dorothea Lange. How many times have we gazed at this photograph and similar ones, wondering what happened to those who were eternally captured in poverty and despair? Where they forever locked into misery and misfortune, or did they find a way out? In the study of genealogy and family history, all family histories are important:

Girl From Iconic Great Depression Photo: "We Were Ashamed"

Yulefest 2008

The Nordic Heritage Museum in Ballard just held another Yulefest (annual Christmas Festival) on Nov.22-23. Attendees shopped for hand-crafted gifts from over 50 vendors while weaving through the meandering halls and nooks and crannies of the old school building housing the Museum. Many visitors, in addition to vendors, staff, and volunteers, came suitably dressed for the occasion in a traditional costume or Scandinavian sweater--myself included. I had planned on getting a photograph of Father Christmas while I was there, but he had his own photographer and was charging the parents of kiddies who wanted visual souvenirs to take home.

Scandinavian food and drink was served at several places in the Museum, including the New Bodega, the Nordic Cafe, and the popular Kaffestuga. Musicians, singers, and other entertainers could be observed entertaining those who stopped for coffee and a traditional treat. The Yulefest is always a fun and colorful event. The halls and booths are constantly crowded, and the cashier line in the gift shop moves glacially slow, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is thinking of the joys of Christmas and appreciating the opportunity to be a part of another Yulefest.

Not too long after my husband and I arrived at the Nordic Heritage Museum on the afternoon of Saturday, November 22, a fire alarm sounded and the building was slowly evacuated. It did not take long, however, before everyone was able to return to their shopping or plate of sweets.

A message board outside the museum promoted the Leif Erikson International Foundation LEIF)

On the main floor near the entrance, visitors perused home-baked pastries and other goodies to buy and take home, including krumkake, snickerdoodles, and much more.

In a room next to the auditorium, lefse line volunteers were kept very busy.

The Yulefest housed over 50 vendors on three floors of the museum. The second floor included these displays of woven items and Celtic-design inspired jewelry--one of my favorite stops.

Happy shoppers!

A close-up of some traditional rosemaling. My mother doesn't know it yet, but she'll be getting a painted heart-shaped box for Christmas.