Newcomers at church

"The first time there were services after our arrival was Palm Sunday, and they wanted us to go to church with them. Oh my! How embarrassing it was. Only strange faces, not a soul that we knew, and we felt that everybody stared at us, and, of course, we were odd in that we were "newcomers." 

It was summer and warm weather. Everybody was dressed in summer dresses, and I wore my heavy homespun wool dress--the only dress I had. We were invited to Eric Himle's for dinner (Gjertrud Lillehaugen's home)  and there were lots of grownups, both boys and girls at home, so I was not very much enthused about the idea. And I said something to that effect to Mrs. Himle, but she only said that they "had seen newcomers before." 

At Gjertrude's (wife of Lars) I got some clothes washed, learned to make bread and fried cake (doughnuts?) and with this knowledge of American food, we moved to a nearby farm on June first. This place was vacant. We rented the house, got our wood from the wooded pasture nearby. We bought two cows and one calf, two hens and one rooster from Lars (Lillehaugen)."

Final excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

Philadelphia, Chicago, (and finally) Minnesota

"We docked in Philadephia and stayed there that day. Our baggage was weighed and examined, and I had to pay a good deal in overweight. That evening at ten o'clock we boarded the train and rode all night, arriving in Chicago the following morning. Here we were divided into different groups and put on the various trains that were to take us to our final destinations. 

The morning of May 26 we came to the end of our journey, which was Kasson, Minnesota. There was no one there to meet us. There was nothing for us to do but wait. A funny looking fellow came and asked us if we were going to Lars Lillehaugen. Yes, that was our plan! Well, he said, it was "early yet," and "there will be someone coming from there later," he thought. About noon some farmers came and talked to us as though they knew us. One said he supposed we were hungry and invited us downtown to get some dinner. But I answered, "Me har mat sjaal." (We have our own food.) I often got to hear that later, as this man happened to be Lars' neighbor, and he knew they were expecting us that day, so we rode home with him. It was a nice warm day when we came to the farm."

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

On the ship to America

"Friday we were again sent to the port of embarkation, and there we got aboard a large American liner on which we were for thirteen days without any special event happening worth mentioning. Weather was favorable, and both the children and I enjoyed good health. The board on ship was, of course, not what we were accustomed to, but we had our own "flat brø" (flat bread), butter, prim and spikekjøt (dried beef) so we only took such as potatoes, coffee, and bread. However, we depended mostly on our own lunch baskets. Time went along in its special routine--eat, sleep, and walking up and down stairs. It was grand to be on deck during the day. There we had a good opportunity to notice all our fellow passengers. There were supposed to be 1,300 on board, we were told. "

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

Waiting in Liverpool

"Late Tuesday night we came to Liverpool, England. It was quite a walk from the depot to the hotel, and the company walked fast--a whole train load of immigrants. It was raining a little. I carried Lars and led Anna and Micheal, so they should not get away from me in the mob of people.

We were quite tired when we finally reached the hotel. Supper awaited us, which consisted of rolls and coffee. Later all married folks should follow to their rooms. We ascended two or three flights of stairs, and there in a large hall with beds all over, similar to a hospital ward, we were shown our sleeping quarters. We stayed here two days, not being allowed to go outside the gate. We were watched as though we were children. And that was needed too. People of all descriptions were trying to interview us and get our money. Peddlers, fortune tellers, and others playing instruments were all there. But they were not allowed inside the gate."

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

The lame shall walk . . .

"Here I want to mention another incident about Micheal. In Hull, where we were brought from place to place and watched like a herd of cattle, we noticed an old lady that had become sick on the boat. She was all alone, had no acquaintance that helped her, as all others had to help themselves. Two men brought this lady in. There was no place to lay her down or even a place where she could sit, and she looked as though she was paralyzed. So they laid her on the floor with a small suitcase at her side. There she lay. No one spoke to her or did anything for her. If anyone did speak to her, there was no answer. When we were ordered in on the train, that lady was left lying there. A little while before the train pulled out, as we were watching from the window, those same two men came carrying that lady, and she was put on a different coach.  

We rode all night. We tried to sleep as best we could sitting or lying in our seats. We wakened the next morning to find the sun shining on the most beautiful landscape. Nice green meadows, trees in their summer foliage, and well-built farms. We thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of Mother Nature. We saw large flocks of sheep, cattle and horses, which especially took my eye. This must be an example of the wonderful America, we thought! Presently, it all disappeared before our eyes as our train carried us into a dark tunnel. And so on and on, hour after hour, the morning waned. We stopped at a station, and as we sat looking out, watching the traffic, Micheal cried, "Aa Mamma, der gaar denna daue kjaerringa!" (Oh, Mama, there goes that dead lady!)

And sure enough, I looked and there she was, walking just as spry as you please. We often wondered what kind of sickness she had. Naturally, Micheal's remark caused much merriment among those who understood Norwegian."

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

Crossing England by train

"Here we were until Monday forenoon when we disembarked at Hull, England. We were all glad that the North Sea lay behind us. We were lucky as none of those in our company were sick to speak of, just eased up some on our lunch basket, as thus far we had to furnish our own eats. Monday evening we boarded a train through England. Now we got a fast ride."

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

So that's what the sawdust is for!

"The following day the storm had subsided, and the sun shone brightly, so the passengers were allowed on deck. But there were very few to be seen, most of them had to remain in bed. The children and I were of the first to get out that morning. Oh my, what a relief to get out of the stuffy room. I had noticed some sacks of sawdust the evening before and now I saw what that was for. It was scattered all over the floor (for bedding, so to speak). The last day before we docked, this was all cleaned away."

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.

Rough Seas

"The sea was a little rough. The waves would wash in over the decks at times, so all passengers were ordered below and all shutters were closed. One room for everybody, young, old, big or little. The shutter by the steps was still open, so I took Lars and sat on some sacks of sawdust that stood there, because the air was already getting warm and stuffy down there. But soon a little water would splash down the steps and so this shutter was closed too, leaving the room void of any ventilation. What a night! I shall not try to describe it--rather forget it. Only those who sailed under such conditions in a storm know what we went through."

Excerpt from Sigrid's account of her journey to America, written in 1919.