My 3rd great grandparents:
Nils Jensen 1812-1897
Johanne Elisabeth Olsdatter 1809-1884
(click on documents or pictures to enlarge for easier viewing)
Sunday
Census Sunday - 1865 Norwegian National Census - Øvald, Eidanger, Telemark
This census shows my 3rd great grandparents Nils Jensen and Johanne Olsdatter and their family. They live on Øvald, considered the family farm and occupied by my family since the mid 1600's. Johanne is the seventh generation on the farm. The farm is actually a small part of the Prestegaarden or priests property, owned by the Norwegian State church. Their oldest son, Gunder Nilsen, will inherit the right to farm Øvald. Gunder and Marthe Marie are my 2nd great grandparents. My great grandfather, Nils, will be born in 1875, ten years after this census.
Nils and Johanne were known for their entertaining/party skills. I do not know if this was a side job to earn some extra money or they just enjoyed having family and friends over.
Monday
Dagmar's Stories - Grace cuts her head
remembering one of the many stories my grandmother Dagmar shared with me
In 1929 my grandmother Dagmar returned to Norway with her two young children, Arnold 4 yrs old and my mother Grace who was 2 yrs old. They stayed in the home of her parents, my great grandparents Nils and Gunhild Gundersen in Skien, Telemark, Norway. Dagmar was lonely for Norway and she wanted Arnold and Grace to have a chance to get to know their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.
In the street in front of the family home the village was laying sewer pipes and large trenches ran up and down the length of the street. Little Grace, playing with her cousins, tumbled into one of those trenches. Her uncle Rolf, not much more than a boy himself pulled her out. Luckily she did not get seriously hurt but did get a cut across the top of her head. It did not seem to be anything significant.
Less than a week later Dagmar, Arnold and Grace were on the "Stavangerfjord" headed out to sea, bound for New York harbor and home. Perhaps some dirt had gotten into the cut because now it appeared infected, yellow pus oozed through the little girls curls, and she complained of pain. Dagmar took her to the boats doctor. Grace screamed and cried and would not hold still for the man. The doctor was impatient and rude. "If these stupid immigrants can't keep their children clean and teach them to behave its not my problem". She was in pain, spoke no English and after all she was only 2 years old! He brushed them away. Dagmar said she hurried the kids back to their cabin. She was so very afraid. She assumed they would be inspected before being allowed in America as she had been when she first came. The children were born in America but she was not. What if they sent them back to Norway? Her husband was in America waiting. What would they do?
As they neared New York Dagmar hid a rag among Grace's curls and covered her head with a scarf. She told her "do not take off the scarf no matter what" and "don't tell anyone and for sure do not cry". Grace, scared also, did as she was told. The same doctor did only a cursory exam of those who traveled in cabins. They held their breath but the scarf never came off and the pompous self-satisfied American doctor did not even seem to recognize them from their earlier visit.
Pa met them in New York and they continued home to Chicago. The cut healed and Grace forever had a scar about the size of a dime on the back of her head where hair refused to grow.
As my grandmother was telling me this story, some sixty years later, I could hear in her voice the remembrance of her fear, Her fear for her little girl's safety and her panic that they would not be allowed into America.
At first I couldn't believe a doctor could be so unprofessional. I was a nurse and felt I would never have been like that to that scared little blond girl who spoke no English. But then I remembered the many times I had more work than I had time to do, dealing with seemingly uncooperative foreigners, who spoke no English and dressed in ways I would consider "funny" or "dirty". I had heard lots of disparaging remarks made by "professionals" referring to the immigrants of today. On those overworked and tiring shifts at the hospital. Did I? Have I? I was ashamed.
In the street in front of the family home the village was laying sewer pipes and large trenches ran up and down the length of the street. Little Grace, playing with her cousins, tumbled into one of those trenches. Her uncle Rolf, not much more than a boy himself pulled her out. Luckily she did not get seriously hurt but did get a cut across the top of her head. It did not seem to be anything significant.
Less than a week later Dagmar, Arnold and Grace were on the "Stavangerfjord" headed out to sea, bound for New York harbor and home. Perhaps some dirt had gotten into the cut because now it appeared infected, yellow pus oozed through the little girls curls, and she complained of pain. Dagmar took her to the boats doctor. Grace screamed and cried and would not hold still for the man. The doctor was impatient and rude. "If these stupid immigrants can't keep their children clean and teach them to behave its not my problem". She was in pain, spoke no English and after all she was only 2 years old! He brushed them away. Dagmar said she hurried the kids back to their cabin. She was so very afraid. She assumed they would be inspected before being allowed in America as she had been when she first came. The children were born in America but she was not. What if they sent them back to Norway? Her husband was in America waiting. What would they do?
As they neared New York Dagmar hid a rag among Grace's curls and covered her head with a scarf. She told her "do not take off the scarf no matter what" and "don't tell anyone and for sure do not cry". Grace, scared also, did as she was told. The same doctor did only a cursory exam of those who traveled in cabins. They held their breath but the scarf never came off and the pompous self-satisfied American doctor did not even seem to recognize them from their earlier visit.
Pa met them in New York and they continued home to Chicago. The cut healed and Grace forever had a scar about the size of a dime on the back of her head where hair refused to grow.
As my grandmother was telling me this story, some sixty years later, I could hear in her voice the remembrance of her fear, Her fear for her little girl's safety and her panic that they would not be allowed into America.
At first I couldn't believe a doctor could be so unprofessional. I was a nurse and felt I would never have been like that to that scared little blond girl who spoke no English. But then I remembered the many times I had more work than I had time to do, dealing with seemingly uncooperative foreigners, who spoke no English and dressed in ways I would consider "funny" or "dirty". I had heard lots of disparaging remarks made by "professionals" referring to the immigrants of today. On those overworked and tiring shifts at the hospital. Did I? Have I? I was ashamed.
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| Grace Gunhild Sevaldsen - back in Chicago |
(click on photos to enlarge for easier viewing)
Sunday
First Day of Spring!
Today is the first day of Spring! No one has any idea how happy that makes me. I am a gardener. Yes we grow some tomatoes, peppers, zucchinis in the summer which I enjoy (both growing and eating!) but my true passion is HOSTAS. We are suburban people but I have an area out back, under a 200 year old burr oak tree devoted to perennials mainly hostas. I have already been out there searching for those first few pips poking up from the dirt. I love the smell of spring rain and the smell of the damp earth getting ready to explode just to give me the inner joy that is Spring. But as usual I digress.
How do the Scandinavians stand the long dark winter? I always visited my grandmother in Norway in the late spring or summer. She lived in Skien and I just loved the way the sun didn't go down until maybe 10pm and was up again about 2am. And it never really went all the way down it just sort of dropped low on the horizon in the west and skimmed around to the east where it again rose. I always thought I could never stand a dark dark winter. I hate Chicago winters! The dark evenings do depress me some. How in the world do the Scandinavians stand their long dark winter?
"My Little Norway, discover the kingdom of the north" is a new favorite blog of mine. Telling how the Norwegians not only survive but actually enjoy their winters! This blog is going on my favorites list.
How do the Scandinavians stand the long dark winter? I always visited my grandmother in Norway in the late spring or summer. She lived in Skien and I just loved the way the sun didn't go down until maybe 10pm and was up again about 2am. And it never really went all the way down it just sort of dropped low on the horizon in the west and skimmed around to the east where it again rose. I always thought I could never stand a dark dark winter. I hate Chicago winters! The dark evenings do depress me some. How in the world do the Scandinavians stand their long dark winter?
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| Tromsø, Norway - mid-winter at high-noon! photo from "My Little Norway" |
"My Little Norway, discover the kingdom of the north" is a new favorite blog of mine. Telling how the Norwegians not only survive but actually enjoy their winters! This blog is going on my favorites list.
To take you directly to that post, click
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As always, attitude is everything but I still long for spring.
Monday
The "Shot in the Dark" lands a hit! - Louis Gunderson
Last November I first posted about my great X2 uncle Lauritz Severin Gundersen. A younger brother of my great grandfather Nils, I found him in the 1900 Norwegian National census but then he seemed to disappear. I discovered through my research he had emigrated to the U.S. and "Americanized" his name. Surprisingly, after some years in North Dakota he landed back in Chicago. I was pretty tight with my grandmother and she never mentioned she had an uncle living in the same city as we did! I think perhaps she didn't know. Louis Gunderson and his wife Carrie had a good sized family and I felt there was a good chance some of his descendants may still remain in the Chicago area. I posted this "shot in the dark".
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I had a hit! I recently was contacted by a woman who is the great grandaughter of Louis. She informed me that her grandmother, the youngest daughter of Louis, is still living in the Chicago area.
I would love to get together with this gal and share photos and family history. Here's the rub.
I am a total stranger! To her anyway. A stranger who is obsessed with family trivia (as all we family historians are). She is a "newbie" to genealogy using up her first free 2 weeks of Ancestry.com. I fear I may have already bombarded her too much in my excitement. So for now I hold my breath and hope she did not view me as a crazy relative who, as my husband says, "is looking for money or a kidney"! Then again she may get the family history bug too. And when she does she'll know where to find me.
Friday
Mom's birthday
On this day in 1927 my mom, Grace, was born in Chicago, Illinois. Born in a predominantly Norwegian neighborhood she once told me that she only knew Norwegian until she went to school.
my mother:
Grace Gunhild (Sevald) Kallman
born: 4 Mar 1927
died: 21 Apr 1975
Love you Mom and miss you,
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