A Happy Family - Paul and Dagmar Sevald

I read somewhere that only those from happy families want to look into their family history/genealogy. I don't know if that is true or not but in the twenty years I have been involved in investigating my own family history I am proud of what I have found. 

 

A family member in Norway recently made this photo available to me. My grandparents Paul and Dagmar Sevald. They are the first generation of my family in the U.S.  My family history journey began with them. Hard working, salt of the earth, joy filled people who loved God and their family.  As my research branched out I found more and more of the same. Many people go into family history convinced of and to prove that they are descended from or related to someone famous or infamous, exciting, daring, brilliant, accomplished etc. etc. etc. I found no such surprises.  I have traced my family in all lines back many generations and have found no one considered extraordinary. No one  "rich"; my ancestors were generally poor tenant farmers, sailors and tradesmen. No one smart; only some in my own generation ever finished college, my ancestors mainly were literate but had a very basic education. No one famous or infamous; I have not yet found any criminals. Am I disappointed? Heck, no. I discovered my family lived through poverty, illness, war, tragedy and still they went on. Ever loyal to their faith and family. Yes, I come from a happy family. And THAT IS extraordinary.

Next Monday is Christmas Day and I will be busy making new happy family memories. 

until next year!

Nils Gundersen Øvald

Nils Gundersen Øvald 1875-1961 was my great grandfather. The father of my grandmother Dagmar, he was my only great grandfather still living when I was born. I was nine years old when he died, old enough to have remembered him but unfortunately I never knew him because he lived in Norway and I in Chicago. I recently was invited to a facebook group, "Gundersen Family Genealogy Group" which was started by a second cousin in Norway. Many of the grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren of Nils post photos and tell stories about Nils on Facebook. Many of those photos I had never seen and I have to admit a twinge of jealousy that I did not know him as they did. Just the fact that so many of his progeny still desire to get together and swap stories and photos of him, says something good about the man.

Nils was born in Eidanger, Telemark, Norway which was a small farming village which has long since been absorbed into the larger community of Porsgrund, Norway. His father was a poor crofter on the small Øvald* farm that had been run by his family since the mid 1600's. He was one of ten children. His mother died when he was just 11 after the birth of his youngest brother Karl Oscar.

Nils began his adult life, as many young men in Norway did at the time, as a sailor. Working up the ranks while raising his young family of 3 boys and 4 girls he eventually became a captain of a Union company boat on the Telemarken Canal. His three sons followed in his footsteps as sailors. He built a home for his family in Skien. A home now owned and lived in by one of his grandsons.

In photos he always appears well dressed and distinguished, back straight, looking you right in the eye, hand on hip. A few of the cousins referred to him as "the boss" but in an affectionate way.  Of course, I realize that if his daughter, my grandmother, had not emigrated to America I would not have even been born. Still, I wish that I too had known the man. Documents, photos and family stories must suffice to tell me who was Nils Gundersen Øvald, my great grandfather.

my great grandfather

Nils Gundersen Øvald

b. 13 Sep 1875 Eidanger, Telemark, Norway

d. 02 Feb 1961 Skien, Telemark, Norway

double click on photos to enlarge for easier viewing

*the story of the family farm Övald can be found HERE

Christmas with the Andersons

 Christmas is now a few weeks off and today 

I wish to share a memory that I wrote about before. 

On my Swedish family blog I wrote this last year. 

A Christmas memory that returns to me with joy each year about this time.

Christmas with the Andersons - Love and Lutefisk in 1961

It's funny how some things or experiences you have as a child really stay with you.  A treasured memory of mine was our yearly lutefisk Christmas with the Andersons. Al, Mr. Anderson, was a good lifelong friend of my Dad's. He had known him from childhood. I think their parents even had been friends. He and his wife Ruth were wonderful people. Each year, sometime during the Christmas season, our family would go to their home for a lutefisk dinner. I never did like the lutefisk but Mrs. Anderson's meatballs were so so good. Mr. Anderson and my Dad would laugh over people they knew in their childhood, like "Snusbox Benson" and tell stories to each other in Swedish laughing all the while.

Their Chicago home was small and simple but oh so welcoming and comforting that I really treasured those visits. They had a dog named Patsy. After my kids were born I insisted on a Springer Spaniel just hoping it would be like that great pup that laid under the Andersons end table. My Dad was a bit older than my Mom and the Andersons had married young so their children were already teens when we were very young so I don't remember much interaction with them. Except, their son Len had a foosball table! How rich was that I thought! and they set it up right in the living room just for us! And even better, a Lionel train that really smoked and a station master that came out with each circle of the Christmas tree! You know that I HAD to buy that same station master for my Lionel. My husband and I built a beautiful Christmas train layout but that station master is the favorite of my grandkids as it was for me. For some unknown reason they call him "Bob".

The Christmas of 1961, now over a half century ago, is one that stands out above the rest. The Andersons, after prayers, lutefisk, Swedish jokes and reminiscing gave us the best presents ever. That year I remember in particular because my sister and I got Storybook Shirley Temple Dolls. She got Shirley Temple dressed as Little Bo Peep and I got Red Riding Hood. I couldn't believe it!   Christmas with the Andersons, a yearly treat even if we did have to "just try" the Lutefisk.

 playing foosball while Mrs. Anderson reads to my little brother
 a Christmas with the Anderson's in the early 60's

Great Grandmother - Anne Marie (Høyset) Sevaldsen

Anne Marie Høyset 1871-1909

This lovely lady is my great grandmother, Anne Marie. This is the only close up photo I have of her. She was the mother of my maternal grandfather Paul. He was her firstborn. I never knew her, nor did my mother and I don't recall my grandfather ever speaking of her. She died young, as many women did back in the day, during the birth of her seventh child.  I do think that her life as a missionary wife was difficult. They moved often, their children born in all different areas of Norway and they most likely were poor. Was her hair red curly and unmanageable as mine? It appears so and I would wish it so. I would also like to think she was kind. Her eyes look kind don't they? My grandfather was a very kind and loving person. Perhaps it was she that passed that trait to him?

my great grandmother

Anne Marie Høyset Sevaldsen

b: 31 Mar 1871 Solum, Telemark, Norway

d: 14 Apr 1909  Hadsel, Nordland, Norway

Thanksgiving

In a past post I told the story of a Thanksgiving long ago. The story of the first Thanksgiving after my Mom died. "Uncle Arnold saves Thanksgiving" can be read HERE. As Thanksgiving arrives this Thursday I wanted to share why Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday.  It is a holiday that can be celebrated however you wish and you are never judged on it. 

I love Thanksgiving most of all for all the stress it doesn't impose. 

in no particular order...

NO FOOD STRESS

Of course it has to be Turkey. Our family feast is baked turkey, with mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, stuffing, green bean casserole and always always French Silk  and Apple pies from Bakers Square.  If someone feels like throwing in a special new dish...so be it, but there is never stress over the menu. No obligation to bake all sorts of goodies or look up new ideas for the meal. It is comforting to know exactly what is expected and exactly how to do it.

NO GIFT  STRESS

 I already have done the majority of my Christmas gift shopping. I hate the crowds, the begging on every street corner by charities, the worry about the "right" gift. The expense that maybe you don't need but HAVE to participate in.  At Thanksgiving just your presence at the table is enough. You are there because they want  you, only you.

NO ADDITIONAL ACTIVITY STRESS

Thanksgiving is just eat, eat lots and relax. Watching  a game on TV, fine, but mainly just loll around waiting for your stomach to recover before you dig into the French Silk and Apple pies. No obligatory and exhausting cookie exchanges, decorating the house, carolling, extra visiting, church services, work parties, neighbor parties, etc. etc. etc.

NO FAMILY STRESS

Celebrate with children or grandchildren or friends or in-laws, whoever you can get together with that particular year. It would be great to get everyone together but everyone understands that isn't always possible and there is no guilty demand to see and visit each and every close and remote relative and friend you ever had. We all know we care about each other. 

NO RELIGIOUS STRESS
Whether those around your table are Jew, Christian, Muslim, Agnostic. All are welcome and since no holy occasion is being celebrated no one is preaching, arguing or pointing fingers about the correct way to do the holiday. We are all just thankful we made it another year and here we are together!


Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, where we gather together, eat together, relax together, be thankful  for what we have together and that is more than enough for me.


Happy Thanksgiving!

Dad was a WWII Veteran and he never talked about it.

In a few days is Veteran's Day. We honor those men and women who answered the call of defending our country. My father Melvin, was a veteran. A World War II veteran and he never talked about it.

As a child I saw this picture of him in uniform, displayed proudly in my grandmother's home. I asked him if he had been in the war and he replied only that yes, he had been in World War II and he had been in the Army. Other than that, he never talked about it.

I know that he received Christmas cards and periodically long letters from men he had served with and even visited Army buddies on occasion. However he always went alone, never taking my mom or we kids with him. He never talked about it.

AP photo, now owned and a copy may be purchased from www.realwarphotos.com

In the late 80's I came across this AP photo in the National Enquirer. It was titled"Ghosts haunt Omaha Beach" with some typical bogus National Enquirer story of people seeing ghosts of the soldiers that died on D-Day invading Europe. The photo however distinctly showed my father in the foreground! I took the paper to him and his response was "hummm, looks like me, we came off a landing craft like that into the water, I had a helmet with a cross on it like that and carried the exact same supplies." The photo prompted him to also identify other men by name. He explained that he did indeed land on Omaha Beach but not on D-Day. He was part of the reinforcements. I questioned him more. It seems that he was more than willing to defend his country but didn't feel he could ever find it in himself to shoot someone for any reason. His helmet with the cross indicated that they made him a medic.  "You didn't believe you could shoot an enemy?" I asked him incredulously. "How long did that last?" He thought for awhile and with a small sad smile said, "Halfway up the beach". I remember questioning him further about the war, just general questions, and he rebuffed me with "you don't need to know about those sort of things." He never talked about it again.

After his death I found in his dresser quite a bit of WWII memorabilia. Photos of him and other soldiers in boot camp and somewhere in Europe, his discharge papers, draft notice and other memorabilia. Those photos were never displayed or in an album and that was the first time I had ever seen them.

He had never talked about it.

After the death of my grandmother I became interested in my family history. The movie "Saving Private Ryan" was out and I wondered again what part my Dad had in the war. I pulled out Dad's discharge papers and did some internet sleuthing. He was in the 3rd Armored division, Spearhead unit that along with others fought their way from the beaches of France, cold, hungry and often with inadequate supplies all the way to Berlin. His particular unit, the anti-tank company, 423rd infantry, had high casualties. He fought in the Battle of the Bulge where 19,000 American boys died in that battle alone. His unit had liberated a concentration camp. He never talked about it.

from the pamphlet (passed by censor for mailing home)
Spearheading with the 3rd Armored Division, in the Bulge, Duren-Cologne, The Ruhr Pocket, East to the Elbe

Dad was part of what we now call the "Greatest Generation:" Those men and women, out of duty and love of country went when called during WWII. They saw lots and did what they had to do. They saw no need to glory in it.  Although I am sure what they experienced, saw and were forced to do must have haunted them, they did what they had to do, for their country, for their family, for their children.  They bore the burden of those memories to protect us. "Those are things you don't need to know about." 

He never talked about it.

Thank you Dad,

November 11 and every day

Remember all of those men and women who served. 

They did what they had to do

...for our country...for our families...for our children.

HONOR OUR VETERANS

***click on above photos to enlarge for easier viewing***

The love story of Sebastian Heußler and Maria von Boeselager, my ninth great grandparents

My maternal grandmother came from a small area in south eastern Norway where her ancestors were recorded living for generation upon generation. They lived and worked the farm Øvald in Eidanger, Telemark for hundreds of years. However a German couple once long ago became a part of our Norwegian family!

In past blogs I told of how my grandmother claimed to be descended from the German noblewoman Maria Lukretia von Boeselager. That blog post can be found HERE. Maria came to Norway as a widow. This is the story of her husband, Sebastian Heußler, my ninth great grandfather.

Sebastian Heußler was from a family of Bookprinters in Nürnberg, he was the oldest son of Leonhard Heußler. Not much is known about his youth other than that he apprenticed in the family trade and in 1599 was working as a typesetter. Upon the death of his father Leonhard in 1597, and with perhaps as many as twelve family members to care for, Sebastian took over the family business. He was married in August of 1601, to Sabina Prünsterer, marriage being a requirement to become a Master in the Guild. He was twenty years old, his occupation a book printer. In 1603 he paid 1000 Guldens for a House in the nailmakers alley, where he set up shop for himself. In the official Guild book records he was recorded as a Bookprinter from the years 1601-1603, and 1606-1607. He printed additionally, news items, devotional booklets and items for the church in Nürnberg. 1607 ended Sebastian's occupation as a Bookprinter, His name disappeared from Nürnberg Guild Books.

Since a youth he had been interested in, "the Knightly Arts of Fencing" (as Sebastian described it). Fencing was less appreciated and practiced in Germany, so he traveled in 1604/05, and from 1608 on Sebastian was in Italy, France, England and the Netherlands and took lessons from famous Fencing masters. He not only increased his skills of fencing but used his knowledge of book binding to author and publish books in Nuremberg on the theory and skill of fencing, along with engraver Gabriel Weyer (1576-1632), who drew the different fencing images. He became a fencing master of the rapier sword and dagger. The books and fencing style of the fencing master Sebastian Heußler are in use even today.

Sebastian Heußler is described as both a Kriegsmann (man-at-arms) and monatsreiter ("month-rider"), which seems to indicate that like many fencing masters he supported himself as a mercenary. Sebastian Heußler, was a major in the Royal army of Christian IV, king of Denmark-Norway. He likely held the elite position of color guard in his unit,as he would later also author a book on the art of flag-waving.

After 1608 it seems that he did not stay in Nuremberg. He moved his wife to a new home in 1615, but in 1617 when the old home was sold, his wife Sabina negotiated the deal in his absence. Sabina, died in 1628.

**********

Maria had been born in 1609 in Honeburg close to Osnabrück in Niedersachsen, Germany. The youngest daughter of Wolfgang von Boeselager and Anna von Kerssenbrock she grew up in noble surroundings. Around 1630 the young Maria gave birth to Sebastian's daughter. Sebastian at the time was close to 50 years old. It was written that Maria was expelled by her family in Germany. It is easy to assume that a child born by a single mother, which she most likely was, was not particularly appreciated by the elite family von Boeselager. The fact that the father, Sebastian Heussler, was 28 years older probably made it worse for Maria. Her brother-in-law, Mathias von Buchwald, married to the sister Heilwig (born 1606), wrote to Maria's father, not even having heard about the wedding; "er ist schir ein alter mann" (he is already an old man).Sebastian and Maria did perhaps have a second daughter before he died. We do know that after his death Maria lived as the widow of Sebastian in Copenhagen. Being expelled from her family she took (or stole?) some family monies and moved to Grenland Norway about 1650 bringing her daughter/s with her. There in Eidanger she found a new home and a new husband.

Her eldest daughter, whose name unfortunately is not known to us, married the vicar of the church in Eidanger, Jon (Johannes) Lauritsson Theiste. Their daughter Sophie was given a christening gift by her grandmother Maria. That gift was the family farm Øvald. The same farm on which my grandmother, seven generations later, was born in 1900.

my ninth great grandparents

Sebastian Heußler

1581-1647

Maria Lukretia von Boeselager

1609-1685

→unknown Pedersdatter→Sophia Jansdatter→Jørgen Bendtzsøn→Malene Jørgensdatter→Ole Gundersen→Johanne Elizabeth Olsdatter→Gunder Andreas Nilsen→Niels Gundersen→Dagmar Gundersen→Grace Gunhild Sevald→ME!

***abundant thanks to my second cousin once removed, Jørn Erik Øvald. He is an educator and amateur genealogist, who has researched and continues to study our German connection, freely sharing his many findings with the family.***

Mystery Young Men - Do you recognize us?

I love to wander through old antique shops, boutiques, and second-hand stores. You never know what you will find. One thing that always disturbs me. There is always a large box or pile of beautiful old family photos. Weddings, Vacations, Family groups, babies....all who were loved and photographed by their loved ones for a remembrance of them.  Those photos were most likely once displayed with great pride in the family home. Here they are abandoned because no one now alive can identify who these people, once cherished, were.

I have posted this photo before. Two young handsome men that look to be no more than older teens or early twenties. Can you identify them or do they resemble a family member of ours? Please contact me.

DEAD FRED is a genealogy website. They host these abandoned photos hoping to find a home with current family. I posted this photo on that site. I love that site and in fact found there a photo of my great grandfathers' cousin. You never know what you will find. Check out the site for yourself.

↓

DEAD FRED Genealogy Photo Archive - Search, Preserve. Record, Remember

And please please take a bit of time to write your name and date on the back of that great photo of you with your prize catch (and all the others too). Your great great granddaughter/son will thank you.

2003-Otto Feick-Granite Lake, Ontario,Canada

Family History Month, how I began my family history journey

October is Family History Month. Family History/Genealogy is a very popular hobby right now. I am guessing that it is a hobby mainly of those of us who are older, the huge amount of baby boomers who have seen the passing of grandparents and parents and are now facing their own mortality. Who are we and where did we come from? 

I remember as a child wanting to think of myself as strictly American. I am ashamed now to say I was a bit embarrassed of the thick accents, and what I thought friends would perceive as strange ways, foods, clothing and culture of my grandparents. Why did we not question Grandpa and Grandma? We only now appreciate the answers and knowledge they could have given us if we had only thought to ask before they left us.

Grandma Sevald. She was my reason and the one who spurred my interest in family history. My maternal grandmother, Dagmar Gundersen Sevald, left Oslo, Norway on the ship Bergensfjord in 1924. She landed two weeks later at Ellis Island where my grandfather, who had emigrated the year before, was there to meet her. She and my grandfather Paul raised a family and lived 40+ years in Chicago. After my grandfathers death she returned to live in Norway but would periodically return to Chicago to visit. After the death of my mother and uncle (her only children) I realized she was now elderly and most likely would not return. So I visited her in Norway three times. We did some sightseeing and visited some relatives but mainly we talked and talked. She told me stories of her life and her family. We looked at her photos, identifying them on the backside. She prompted me to write names, dates and places she remembered. After she passed, a cousin sent me a box that contained those photos and memories. I wasn't sure how to honor her memory or the memories/photos/stories she had entrusted to me. A local librarian first introduced me to building a family tree and loaned me a computer program to organize my box of Grandma's memorabilia. It was 1992 and I was on my way. 

I have since branched out to explore my paternal Swedish ancestry and the ancestry of my German born husband but it all began with and is dedicated to Grandma.  This is the dedication which I will always leave at the top of this blog.

Dedicated to Dagmar

Long ago I read that each of us will have, on average, ten great grandchlldren. 

Only two of those great grandchildren will even know what our name was.

She was born on a small farm in Eidanger, Norway on which her family had been crofter's since the mid 1600's. She had only a fifth grade education after which she worked as a cook on her father's boat. She lost her first true love and married a man on the rebound "because he could dance and he had a car". Her husband's dream was "Amerika". He left for America, worked hard and sent home money and two pre-paid tickets for his young family to join him. She buried her infant daughter in a paupers grave and two weeks later took a three hour train ride alone to Kristiania where she boarded a boat for America. She expected never to see her mother, father, brothers or sisters again. She arrived almost two weeks later at Ellis Island, New York. She spoke no English. She prayed that her husband would be there when she arrived. She had twenty five dollars pinned to her underskirts, one small suitcase, a train ticket and a tag tied to her coat that read "Chicago".

I want her descendants to know her name and more importantly, who she was.

She was Dagmar Gundersen Sevald from Skien, Telemark, Norway.

Dagmar, was my mother's mother. She had black curly hair and brown laughing eyes. She was not very tall but amply built. A joyous, positive woman of strong faith and spirit who never passed up a chance to tell you exactly what she thought or believed. She made me feel safe, special and loved. Before she died I visited her, living again in her beloved Norway, three times. She shared with me the stories and pictures of her life and that of our family. My interest in family history and genealogy had begun. I have dedicated all my family research to her. "Don't forget who you are" she would say. Don't worry Grandma, I won't.

Grandma, the way I remember her best.

"All girls should know how to sew"

I don't see this at all anymore, nor did I see this much when my kids were young. Perhaps it was a 50-60's thing. Matchy matchy outfits. I guess a sign of a good mother in the 50's was having a line of clean well behaved kids wearing matching outfits preferably handmade by mom. Puhleese. How I hated this. When I was very young and it was just my one sister and myself, my Mom was totally obsessed with this idea. She shopped at a small children's boutique on Irving Park Rd. called Anderson's. My sister and I would get matching dresses or coats. Or, we had matching outfits but in different colors. It made me so mad because my sister, who was cute and blond always got the more colorful item and I, the flaming redhead was doomed to the same outfit in blue or brown. My sister once said; "You hate the outfits? what about me? I get the hand-me-downs so I have to wear the same dorky outfit twice!"  She had a valid point didn't she? 

→ My mother took a long time choosing these matching outfits. We were going to be on a WGN children's TV show called "Here's Geraldine". Some friend of the family worked on that show and got us tickets. Because TV was in black and white Mom searched hi and low for black and white dresses so she would know exactly what we would look like on the TV. The dresses had a little clump of red cherries at the collar and my Mom removed that and replaced them with a Norwegian pin. She didn't want to confuse family members who may see gray cherries. Even then at 7 or 8 years old the logic of that was totally lost on me.


As the family grew, maybe because of the expense, she no longer shopped at the children's boutique but began to make the matching outfits. Get a load of these matching blouses and jumpers and my poor brother in a matching vest. Makes you wish for the days of black and white again doesn't it?

 Being traditional and practical also, Mom thought all girls should learn how to sew. Sewing was also taught in the  public school. All the girls from 5th grade on were required to take "Home Economics" and all the boys were required to take shop or "Industrial Arts" as they liked to call it. Aside from the obvious sexist implication, I think it was a good idea, although it wouldn't have killed me to learn how to use a screwdriver also. The sisters didn't get into it but I really enjoyed it and made lots of my clothes as I was growing up. I even made the bridesmaids' dresses for my wedding. I made a few dresses for my daughter but more and more children's clothes were made in China with cheap labor so soon there was really no point to sew children's clothes. For years my sewing machine sat idle, only being used for the occasional alteration, repair or Halloween costume.

Just a few years ago one of my sisters in law mentioned that she really loved quilts. After I checked out the prices, whoaa,  I thought I could make her one and a new hobby was born with some old, not forgotten, skills. My husband also uses the sewing machine for repairing his boat or smoker/ grill covers etc. The guy who aced Industrial Arts as a kid needed some basic lessons in the art of the sewing machine. I guess I sometimes forget that the sexist attitudes of the past hurt not only young girls but young boys also. Mom was half right. Everyone should know how to sew.

***the quilts I have made so far are displayed on my Pinterest board HERE***

The Aunt I didn't have, Gerd Sevaldsen

Gerd Sevaldsen was my mother's older sister and my grandparents' first child.

On a visit to Norway, my Grandmother confided to me that she was pregnant with Gerd when she and Grandfather Paul married. Knowing how strictly religious she was I dared to question her on her, shall we say, timing? "But I was engaged!" she vehemently protested. Apparently in rural Norway in earlier times marriage was the religious event. The engagement or trolovelse was recorded by the parish priest with generally two witnesses present. It was the binding agreement between man and woman and the woman often joined the man's family at this time. They would later post banns at the church and the religious event would take place a few weeks after at the discretion of the local priest. If the young couple was expecting, as they often were, the marriage ceremony was expected to be performed before the baby's birth. No one thought poorly of this as it was the intention that mattered. Dagmar and Paul were married in Skien February 22, 1922. Gerd was born May 14 of the same year.

"My most beautiful baby" is how Dagmar referred to Gerd, her firstborn. She had dark hair and brown eyes like Dagmar and a sweet disposition. Paul left for America when Gerd was just 15 months old. He sent money and prepaid tickets for Dagmar and Gerd to join him. Gerd never made it to America. They were scheduled to leave for Kristiana just a few weeks after the Christmas of 1923. Dagmar hesitated to celebrate Christmas with her family as her youngest brothers, had just had the measles. Her mother, who feared she would never again see her daughter after she left for America, begged her to come, believing the boys would not be contagious. She was wrong. Little Gerd got the measles which swiftly turned into pneumonia. Dagmar had to bury her baby in an unmarked paupers grave and board the train for the three-hour ride to Kristiania alone. Pauls sister wrote her brother in America telling him of his daughters' death. When Dagmar arrived in America Paul never questioned her. In fact, they never even discussed the child or spoke the name "Gerd" again. Dagmar felt he blamed her for the little girls' death. Dagmar kept this picture of her "most beautiful baby" on her dresser always.

my Aunt

Gerd Sevaldsen 

born:14 May 1922 Gjerpen, Telemark, Norway

         died:14 Jan 1924 Gjerpen, Telemark, Norway   

      

Labor Day, choosing a profession

Today is Labor Day, a day to honor working people. My husband and I are now retired but we worked and worked hard. How does someone "choose" their occupation? My husband is a carpenter and I am a nurse. I don't believe there was ever much thought about choice of occupation for my husband. It just came naturally to him. His father, grandfather, great grandfather and so forth back quite a few generations had been woodworkers, furniture makers, and/or carpenters back in Germany. He grew up and picked up the skills from his Dad? or was it in his DNA? Whatever the reason it was an occupation that seemed natural to him, he enjoyed and was good at. Bingo. For me it was different.

The females of my mom's generation generally assumed a woman may work outside the home, will get married and then retire from the working world to raise a family as the children came into the picture. I grew up in a time of change for women. As a third grader I wrote an assignment saying I wanted to be a nurse when I grew up. With my generation came the rise of feminism but still most females going to college (at least those that I grew up with) considered mainly teaching or nursing as appropriate. I don't remember any particular "calling" or anything toward nursing. Most every third grade girl wrote they wanted to be either a teacher, a mother or a nurse.

 I entered college after high school but three semesters in I had taken enough credits to technically be a junior and was therefore required to declare a major. I had no clue what I wanted. There were so many baby boomers that college graduates were working as bag boys in the Jewel. Besides I was in love and wanted to get married. I dropped out of college. My mom cried when I told her but I was determined and married the next year. Three years later we had a new baby and a new house and what we considered a large house payment. $333.00 principal and interest! Makes me laugh now but it was a big amount and tough going then so I took a job at a local hospital as a nurses aid. I chose that job strictly because I could work nights and would not have to pay a babysitter. A few months later I looked around and thought to myself; why am I working hard like a dog for $4/hr and those nurses sitting at the desk ordering me around are making twice that? A friendly older nurse told me I could get a nursing degree through my local community college. I checked it out and found out that my earlier college credits would be considered and they even had a "tot spot" which was a cheap and good child care alternative for kids age three and up. Our daughter was only two but potty trained and tall for her age. I spent some time prompting her to repeat "my name is Laura and I am three years old" holding up 3 fingers for effect. I truly had not a clue what I was getting into. My eyes were on the $8/hr prize.

I made it through the training the first year hiding the fact I was now pregnant with my next child. Things were a bit different then. Many of the instructors were not keen on mothers in the program and although it was now illegal to discriminate against you if pregnant, the instructors often found other ways to purge you from the program. I was found out but was told if I missed anything due to the pregnancy I was out, period.  Erik was due in February but he must have known because he arrived a month late waiting until spring break! After spring break I did my required surgical clinical rotation. The anesthesiologist kept pushing a laundry basket toward me. He later told me I looked rather pale and thought I perhaps was sick and ready to hurl watching the surgery, I explained that no I was fine but a little tired on my feet as I had just delivered a 10 lb baby 2 1/2 days previously!



My husband, God bless him, worked a 7 day week to pay for the schooling. I had a child, was pregnant, going to school and working nights. Dog tired, it all seemed like a blur to us but it payed off. Three weeks before graduation I was offered a position. So I didn't really have a "calling" to be a nurse, choose nursing or did I sort of fall into it? I don't think it matters. The hours worked great for someone with children, the pay was good and I enjoyed the work.  I also felt pride in my position as a registered nurse and made some lifelong friends. And, most importantly, I believe I did a good job. 

Shopping at Sears

If I need or want to buy something I go online, search for the item wanted and compare prices at different locations, which can vary greatly. Free shipping? almost a necessity.  I don't care to spend the gas money to go to the store just to "look around". And the mall? A dreary, dark, place that seems to be marketing to the ever present packs of loud, rude, tattooed teenagers. Not for me anymore. I have no loyalty to any particular business or store. It was once very different.

When I was a kid, shopping was a family outing, an experience, an adventure. And that adventure was

SEARS.

My Dad worked for Marshall Fields for 30 years but Fields was "for the rich folks".  We were what they called in the day "working middle class" and Dad only allowed us to go to Fields for the employee Christmas party or only if we shopped exclusively in the bargain basement using his 20% employee discount. No, for us, our family and neighbors it was Sears. "Our" Sears was the flagship store on Six Corners in Chicago. We shopped as a family and that meant the entire family went, like an outing. Grandma and Grandpa went with us.

We loaded into the car dressed in our Sunday best. Entering from the parking lot, the aroma of roasting nuts filled the air around the candy counter. Grandpa generally bought a paper cone of roasted almonds with cinnamon. I can still see him in my mind today. He wouldn't shop because that was "lady stuff" but he found a spot at the bottom of the escalator where he would munch his almonds and people watch, nodding to the folk as they cruised down.

A family friend had what my Dad referred to as "a real good job" at Sears selling home improvements so whether we visited Sears we had to go and "say hello" to George.  Of course any appliances we needed we always bought at Sears. I remember in particular that by the vacuum cleaners they had a display that mesmerized me. A beach ball floating and spinning high on a jet of air. It never fell down! Magic, to my young eyes.

Summer? Sears was "air-cooled". One of the few places to air-condition on a stifling hot Chicago August day. A fellow had a cart and sold hot dogs in the parking lot. I was going to get one when I grew up cause Mom wouldn't buy us one from a cart. She thought the guy might have dirty fingernails. Winter? Christmas decorations in the large display windows and everywhere throughout the store.  I can still smell those little log cabins that burned Christmas incense out its chimney that could be bought at Sears each Christmas. When the Sears Christmas catalog came out we kids would circle what we wanted Santa Claus to give us. Our gifts may not be what we circled but it most certainly came from Sears.

We were loyal to Sears because Sears had everything we needed and wanted and I mean everything. Clothes, linens, shoes, toys, tools, tires, appliances (I"m sure I am forgetting something) and hey a Hillmann's grocery in the basement.The Sear's catalog had even sold kits for houses built in the Chicago area in the 1930's. Sears' Craftsman tools were famous for their absolute guarantee. Once Grandpa found an old rusty screwdriver in the alley and seeing a Craftsman logo returned it to Sears and got a brand new one! My husband, at 17 and a new driver, bought his car insurance from another young fellow standing at an Allstate booth, trying to build a base of customers at Sears. Years ago when my husband and I bought our first home it took our last penny. We proudly moved into a home that was basic beyond basic. No lawn or landscaping, unfinished lower level, no screens or storm windows, no air-conditioning and no appliances. We operated out of an ice chest and a crockpot. Sears bailed us out by giving us our first credit card which we used to purchase a stove and a refrigerator.

Mom predicted the end of Sears when they opened on Sundays. She actually cried, "Oh it's awful and so worldly and wrong for a place as great as Sears to be open on a Sunday, the Lord would not approve."  Sears was still on top and making big money for years after they opened on Sundays but that was then and this is now. Goldblatts, Montgomery Ward, Wieboldts,  Marshall Field,  and other "department" stores are long gone while Sears remains but she seems to be fading fast. Since 2010, Sears has gone from more than 3,500 physical stores to 695 in the US. "Our" six corner Sears in the Portage Park area on Cicero and Milwaukee may now be the only remaining flagship store in Chicago proper.

Just a few weeks ago we drove into Chicago from our suburban home to attend the funeral of a family friend. We passed right by the six corners Sears. I didn't go in. I don't want to go there and NOT see Grandpa at the escalator or "say hello" to George.  Rich, our Allstate agent since my husband turned 17, died some years ago. We now get our insurance from a nameless reptile on the internet. And the floating beach ball I loved and remember so well? Turns out it wasn't magic after all but science. I found that out on the internet too. Check out this youtube →The Dancing Beachball = Bernoulli's Equation.  

Sears was then and this is now.  Nope, I didn't go in.

Here are some interesting Sears-related sites 
→SEARS HOMES OF CHICAGOLAND
→THE HISTORY OF SEARS   
→SEARS WIKIPEDIA
and
→THE DANCING BEACHBALL



Update 2018 - 
....The last flagship Sears in Chicago
....Our family Sears on 6 corners
....closed.