Live Well Letters

Meet Me on Facebook

2011-01-31T07:00:00.000-08:00

On February 1, I'm closing the doors on this blog. All new info about Live Well, family history, etc. will be posted at Live Well Letters on Facebook. See you there!

Lutefisk and Lefse, Holiday Anchors

2010-11-28T16:45:00.000-08:00

Food ties generations together. As luck would have it, our ties involve lutefisk. (If I resisted joking about lutefisk, I'd be kicked out of the society of third generation Scandinavians who keep the fish, uh, I mean faith.)

Lutefisk season begins in earnest in November. Our church has an annual dinner that, as I now know, is one of a series of options across the Twin Cities. My daughter and I volunteered at this year's fest; she waited tables and I dished up meatballs.

To my relief, the lutefisk lacked its typical, shall we say, aroma. I'd been kvetching about it beforehand; I had to eat my words. People in line carefully chose their lutefisk, gave precise instructions regarding melted butter or cream sauce, and merrily added meatballs. In the dining room were fruit soup, lefse, rosettes, and krumkake. One man came back to the kitchen for allspice; another showed surprise that we didn't have rutabagas. My favorite was when a white-haired gentleman leaned in and confided that he had been at another lutefisk dinner the week before. He confirmed that Bethlehem's fish was the best; theirs had been mushy.

The dinner also was a parade of sweaters. For a knitter, this is a Superbowl of stranded colorwork, embroidered cuffs, and button bands.

Of course, all this ties right back to Grandma Sigrid, knitter and consumer of lutefisk. In 1913, she wrote "Today is Thanksgiving Day, 27th, and we have been company to brother Knut. We had a lot of good food. It would take too long to name everything, but there was lutefisk and lefse, and that was the best of all, I thought."

Amen.

Summer Holiday; Back in the Fall

2010-07-20T13:23:00.000-07:00

Time to surrender to summer. Sand and sun. Reading and road trips. Gardening.

I'll return with the harvest moon to share more stories about our elders.

Until then, stay cool.

When the World Spins, Get Out Your Wheel

2010-05-01T05:49:00.000-07:00

As a little kid, I made a pilgrimage to Sigrid's spinning wheel every July during the family reunion. There it stood in the corner, bits of wool still attached. I'd seen a demonstration of spinning at our elementary school, so I had an idea of how it worked. I was itching to give it a spin, so to speak.

Sigrid was famous for being the spinner in the neighborhood. Although I can't say definitively, it seems like she was one of the few who had sheep and spun yarn. In a letter from May 1899, she asked "Will you send me a pair of wool cards? I have worn mine out."

She was also a knitter. In 1920, she wrote, "My job is mostly knitting. I gave away ten pairs of mittens for Christmas but many of them were small."

If you work with yarn, you know its magic. After a day of dealing with the dramas of life, it gives you a space to think. You ease into the rhythm and the stitches untangle your thoughts.

Sigrid's wool carders sit in my office. They're very simple, just rough wood and rows of tiny metal teeth. Like the spinning wheel, they hold decades-old wool. When I see them, I imagine Sigrid going through the process, from shearing and cleaning the fleece to knitting the yarn. And I know that she and I are connected by more than one thread.

Long Waits, Slow Connections

2010-03-06T14:57:00.000-08:00

Our home computer gets dissed because it's too slow. People want the internet, and they want it NOW. No one wants to wait. Seconds become minutes, minutes become problems.

Sigrid was practiced at waiting. No instant messaging for her.

In 1892, she began her letter, "Now that at last your long-awaited letter has come, I want to send you my thanks for the letter. I often wondered why Father waited so long before he sent us a letter."

A few months later, "One post day after the other has gone by without a letter from you. It appears to me that I have been written down in your forgotten book at your place. But to freshen your minds, I am sending you a few lines. It could happen that it might interest you." She ends, "I am waiting to hear from you, yes, dear Father, send us a long letter for Christmas."

Sigrid also owns up to her sporadic correspondence. In 1894: "Never before have I had you wait so long for a letter from me and I am really ashamed. I beg for your forgiveness."

In 1901: "I guess it was too long this time before I answered you when I got your dear letter for which I thank you. It is a joy to receive a letter when all is well on both sides."

In 1904: "It surely is too long between each letter now, but it is your fault because I wrote last. I have often thought of writing, but then it gets postponed again."

Then, like now, life galloped along, making it difficult to stay connected with family.

If only Sigrid and Lars had been on Facebook!

Anna: The Valentine Birthday

2010-02-14T19:57:00.000-08:00

In 1879, Sigrid and Tosten's first child, Anna, was born on Valentine's Day. Anna was known for meticulous housekeeping, beautiful dishes, and the twinkle in her eyes.

When I was a child, I loved letters. Great Aunt Anna was in her late 80s when we began writing to each other. I'm not sure what she thought about my attempts, but I remember how exciting it was to walk up the hill to the mailbox and find one of her letters inside, addressed to me!

One summer afternoon when I was about 7, we had a coffee party for Aunt Anna, Aunt Selma, and Almeda. My favorite photo from that day shows what good sports they were: we're all standing in front of the lilac bushes holding kittens.

A year or so later, Anna and Almeda moved permanently from their house in Michigan, ND. Mom and I went to see them while they were sorting and packing, and I found a treasure -- hats! Anna let me put two or three on her head to see which looked best, then said the magic words: I could pick one and take it home!

Anna and Almeda lived at the top of a long flight of stairs at 1021 Broadway in Fargo. Inside their apartment, it was bright with sunlight and plants. Every visitor drank coffee from a china cup, ate cookies on plates with a history.

Twenty-one years old when the 20th century began, Anna faced the disruption and excitement of the decades with humor and grit.

Happy Birthday Anna!

Hope, Blizzards, and Christmas

2010-02-06T05:29:00.000-08:00

Christmas blizzards are preordained in North Dakota. Travel plans must include a one- to two-day window on either end to accommodate blocked roads, cancelled flights, whiteouts.

The first winter that we lived in Minnesota, we made the trek north. WINTER STORM WARNING filled the headlines for days. Big Christmas storm will interrupt travel plans. Change your travel plans now. Why are you still thinking of travelling?

My brother, San Diego-raised husband, and I set out. Smooth sailing up I94. Clear roads on I29. Called the parents from a rest area near Harwood (pre-cellphone days). Yep, roads are good. Skies are clear. Are the meatballs in the oven?

Made the turn at Grand Forks. Still clear. Talked about how much parents worry about the weather and how great it was to live in Los Angeles and wear shorts at Christmas.

Then, POW. Complete whiteout. And I mean total. Within seconds.

Ahead we could make out faint red tail lights. OK. Follow them. Inch along. North Dakota-raised brother and I launch into anecdote trail about past blizzards. CA husband insists he can see the road. We insist he can't, because he's from CA. We all agree it's good someone is ahead of us so we can follow them.

Until those lights disappear.

Hours later, we pull into Michigan, ND. Drifts across the streets, snow horizontal against the street lights. Heads down, we run from the car to our aunt and uncle's door. Their first words: "You better call your Mother!"

This Christmas, the storm arrived after we did. Roads across the entire state were closed. Just like they were in 1896, when Knut Nelson wrote, "A few days ago we had a terrible blizzard for four days. It blew and snowed so all that time. Some people tied a string to the corner of the house so they could find their way inside again. Yes, that was the worst snowstorm I've ever seen since I came to America, and I hope I never see it again."

Hope springs eternal.

Happy Holidays

2009-11-22T03:57:00.002-08:00

I'm going to take a little break over the holidays. I wish you all a season filled with stories, time with the people you love, and caring for those in your daily life.

Micheal's Letter to Grandfather

2009-10-19T05:07:00.000-07:00

Michigan City, N.D.

Dec. 3, 1893

Dear Grandfather,

Because you would like to see my handwriting, I will try to send you a few lines, but I am a poor man to write because I don’t have much time for that because I have to be with my father both summer and winter. Now we have much to do outside but it has not been cold this winter. Just a little snow and no storms up to this time. We use the wagon when we go to town.

Tomorrow papa and I are going to town to sell wheat, which we hauled in earlier, but it is so little price for wheat. This fall under 50¢ a bushel. This fall we bought a new binder. It should cost $130 but they got four oxen. We sold them according to weight so we got $106. We also sold two cows and got $26 each.

Because you can’t see me, I have to tell you I have become big but not as fat as when you saw me. I am well grown and strong and I am never sick, which is good. It is soon Christmas and Mama has promised me something nice if I learn my lesson, and that makes me glad. Live well, then, dear grandfather. I hope you live long and happily.

Dearest greeting from your Micheal T. L.

Low Prices, High Costs

2009-10-04T05:05:00.000-07:00

Land might have been less expensive than in Norway, but the cost of living was high on the plains.

"I guess I’ll send a few more lines hoping that you have received a letter with pictures that I sent to you this summer. . . News is so scarce there is nothing to write about except all is well.

Micheal is now through plowing and he has plowed 40 acres almost alone with two oxen. Now it is to haul wheat to town but it is so sorrowfully cheap. Think, only 50¢ and less for each bushel. This fall we got 900 bushels wheat and 300 bushels barley and oats. We had a threshing machine one day for $60, so it is expensive work here in Dakota. There was a time this fall they paid $2 a day with the machines so the farmer has to pay a lot again.

We bought a self-binder this fall and paid $130. From us they got four oxen, for which they gave $106, and the rest he paid with cash. You might know, grandfather, that Micheal was a big man when he got to sit on the new binder and drive it.

Father and Anna shocked so we do not have to hire anyone for work because the children are so big and strong that they work like grown people. So we have it good with that too lately."

Life and Death, Inextricable

2009-09-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I stood at the window in a hospital room watching traffic. Outside was life, inside was illness and eventually, death.

Life and death are, were, and continue to be inextricable. Many of us try to ignore this fact -- until we can't.

Death is woven throughout Sigrid's letters, here it takes her neighbor's children. Even so, life stubbornly persists.

"We have a new neighbor, namely, Sander Lofthus. They came this spring and bought a quarter of land. They have now built a house and moved in. Margit was with us two weeks. They now have one daughter left. Their two sons died right after they came here this spring, that was sad for them, and the people are kind to them. They have gotten three calves and Knud Lokken (or Turke Knud) feeds them three months for nothing. That was worth a lot of money to them. And still he gave them a calf and helps them in many ways, so they say they like it here, so I suppose they do."

Images of Home, 1893

2009-09-15T17:01:00.000-07:00

The table where Sigrid wrote letters still sits in her house, in front of a south-facing window. When I read these lines, I imagine her there with the photos fanned out in front of her, smiling.

October 24, 1893

Dear Father!

Because yesterday I had the big satisfaction to get a letter from you I will send some words back to you in return. I thank you heartily for the letter and all the pictures. It was so much fun for us to see everybody again, Anna and I had often wished we could have pictures and now we got that satisfaction too. I hardly know my brothers again they have gotten so big and handsome men since I saw them.

Yes, dear Father, I got to know you now the way you are. I often thought of you as an old gray-haired man but now I see you are as young and handsome as you can be. Old age hasn’t gotten hold of you yet. It is so good to see you this way.

The Kids Are Alright; 1892 and 1893

2009-09-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

Like other women on the plains, Sigrid worked nonstop. Finding time to write letters wasn't easy. When she had a few minutes, she got right to the point.

October, 1892. " Theodore will now be one year the 4th of November. He is so big and fat, everybody who has seen him says they have never seen such a fat baby child. He doesn’t walk yet but crawls around everywhere.

Birgit and Clara have found pen and paper to write to grandfather but it probably won’t be finished before tomorrow. Anna is now almost as big as I am. She can use my clothes. She is good. This summer she had to help with the haying and people from town came out and asked her to work for $3 a week. But we needed her. They are all a big help and comfort."

Things were still hectic a year later.

"We have a healthy baby boy born on September 5. Now on Sunday 22nd of October he was baptized and he got the dear familiar name, Nels. I like that. In one month there will be a meeting again and maybe it will be confirmation. If so, Anna will probably be confirmed, Sunday the 25th. After that she says she will send Grandfather a letter.

During the intervening year, Lars Gjeldaker wrote about schooling for his grandson (and namesake). I like how Sigrid acknowledges her father's concerns, then gently reminds him that they have schools too.

"You say that Lars could come to you in school. If that were possible, the only thing is, I would want to be home so my children could be with you in school. I thank God that we have gotten us a home here where we have everything we need for daily bread. It is also a possibility that Lars could have a chance to learn here. The minister tells us we have children who are good in reading. They read at every meeting in the summer.

The Crop Report of 1892

2009-09-10T17:08:00.000-07:00

Lars Gjeldaker never visited America. He never rode the train across the country, never watched the landscape flatten under tall grass, never saw a lone stand of cottonwoods on the horizon.

But he had a bird's-eye view of life at the Lillehaugen farm.

In February 1892, Sigrid reported, "The crops were good last year, the first wheat harvest in Dakota. Now we will see if it will be better here. Some have given up their land and moved away. Tosten and Micheal have much work in the barn, as we have many animals. They also bought a team of horses. There is much to buy when a man is beginning to farm, and here it is expensive. Machine and tools we need, but we are afraid to buy before we can pay."

In October, she sent another update with details on yields and prices.

"This summer we have had the best and nicest weather, so for the first time we got a good crop. Now we have threshed and plowed. They have left to haul the wheat to town before winter comes, because then it is best to hibernate like the bear.

We got over 800 bushels of wheat, 400 oats. The wheat is worth 50¢ a bushel. Low price! Now we have to sell wheat to pay for the horses we bought last fall for $200, and threshing cost $52. We had a man during threshing for two dollars a day. So that’s the way it goes with the money. It goes here and there.

But we are satisfied that God has helped here. This year I guess there has been very bad weather at many other places. Through the summer we sold eight cattle. We have 22 left and we have enough hay for them. We have mowed quite a bit, Micheal has done most of the mowing and raking. Grandfather should see how big and smart a man he has become this fall. Now he is going along with Father and drive to town and they will both have teams."

She adds, "Lars has to watch the cattle and that is not so good now with prairie fires all around the places."

A few years later, another prairie fire will alter their lives forever.

Written Down in the Forgotten Place

2009-09-07T04:56:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but when I look at photos of unsmiling pioneers and homesteaders, they seem tough as nails. (Of course, one reason they didn't smile was because they couldn't risk a blurry photo.) Then you get a glimpse of the loneliness.

In February, 1892, Sigrid wrote, "Dear unforgettable Father! Mother and Brothers, Now that at last your long-awaited letter has come, I want to send you my thanks for the letter. I often wondered why Father waited so long before he sent us a letter. How lovingly welcome to receive your dear familiar hand again and read the dear lines from Father."

In October she reminded them that "One postday after the other has gone by without a letter from you. It appears to me that I have been written down in your forgotten book at your place. But to freshen your minds, I am sending you a few lines. It could happen that it might interest you."

I love that last line. Zing!

Prairie Skies in South Dakota

2009-09-04T18:31:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago we were in South Dakota. This photo was taken near Wall, in the national grasslands.

I grew up on the prairie. The skies of the West fill me with a peace that is impossible to find east of the Missouri.

When I think of my great-grandparents, I wonder what they thought of the Dakota skies. Of course, they had to keep an eye on the weather--no Doppler radar in those days. But I imagine they also were attuned to the colors and nuances of the clouds, the shifts in light marking the seasons.

I would love to spend an evening with them, watching the sun sink, seeing geese fly overhead, and hearing frogs begin the night shift.

Little School on the Prairie

2009-07-23T06:36:00.000-07:00

Sigrid weaves the theme of education throughout her letters, frequently describing what the children learned, books they read, and the teachers' praise.

Lars Gjeldaker was likely (and justifiably) skeptical of the educational opportunities in Dakota territory. If the family had stayed in Norway, the grandchildren would have studied with him. Instead, an ocean separated them.

In 1892, Anna, the oldest grandchild, sent Grandfather some details:

"Micheal has now read in the Forklaring, and then we have read in the Bible History and are reading in the Testament. Then we have the Sunday School papers and newspapers. Micheal and Lars have the China Missionary paper. Last fall we borrowed one of Ole Skjervem's books and it was so much fun to read in that. Could grandfather please send one with Knud Jallo? Lars reads in the catechism, and Birgit [Cecelia] in the ABC. She spells and makes words. Clara is a little of each. She reads the ABC and sings a little of each song she hears from us."

Anna also assures Grandfather that he would like Clara. "She is a good girl. You should hear and see her. I think you would like her. She is a comfort to us all. Papa and she are very good friends. One time she said she liked whiskers, butter and bread."

Anna realizes her life would be different in Hallingdal. "I hear in your letter how cozy you have it. It would be good for us to get to go to school at your place and if we did that we would be satisfied--and we would really try to learn to read and be smart."

She closes with a postscript on behalf of her little sister: "I shall greet you from Birgit that she is good to take care of little brother and to read."

New Family Members: Clara, Theodore, and Nils

2009-07-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

The family was growing too. Tosten presents the situation like a farmer: "There had been considerable increase in the stock, but not only that, the family too, increased. So then I knew that we had found a good place. September 26, 1889, a girl was born and was named Clara; November 4, 1891, a boy named Theodore; September 5, 1893, a boy named Nils."

Sigrid adds context in her letter to Norway. "With gladness I see that everything is well with you at home. And the same I can say from here because we have our health to date, which is the best of everything good. God gives us His grace. . . We must tell you that on November 4 we were blessed with a little well-shaped son, Theodore, who now is growing and bright for his age."

Getting Settled in Dakota

2009-07-19T07:47:00.000-07:00

On June 1, 1888, Tosten, Sigrid, and their children moved into their new home in Walsh county.

Tosten writes, "I bought the improvement from a Bohemian . . . with the understanding that I file on that quarter, which I did. The improvement consisted of a log house 24 by 16, a well, a stable, and 25 acres that had been broken. I paid $150 for this. I did not have the money but was to pay it in the fall."

Neighbors banded together. "There was plenty of hay and pasture land around about us, but to get the hay together was not so easy. I had neither team nor machinery at first. So it was to exchange work with neighbors, and that took lots of strength for one man. When I came, I had a yoke of oxen three years old. So when I got them broke and got a wagon and rack, I could haul my own hay with the help I had. So things started to get better."

Sigrid also describes the first years. In 1892, she wrote, "The crops were good last year, the first wheat harvest in Dakota. Now we will see if it will be better here. Some have given up their land and moved away.

Tosten and Micheal have much work in the barn, as we have many animals. They also bought a team of horses. There is much to buy when a man is beginning to farm, and here it is expensive. Machine and tools we need, but we are afraid to buy before we can pay."

Moving to Dakota Territory

2009-06-28T13:20:00.000-07:00

In 1862, Lincoln signed the Homestead Act, through which individuals could obtain 160 acres by filing an application, improving the land, and filing for deed. This brought many settlers to the plains, including European immigrants.

The Lillehaugen family moved west in 1888, taking the new railroad to Dakota Territory. The hard work in Minnesota had paid off: their property now included ten head of cattle.

Tosten and Sigrid had also added a daughter to their family: Cecilia Birgitte, born January 12, 1887.

First Years in Minnesota

2009-06-26T14:52:00.000-07:00

Tosten, Sigrid, and their children were now living in Hayfield, Minnesota. We pick up the story inTosten's autobiography.

"I rented a house from Ole Vastvt, called 'jalgan huset," for the family while I continued working for others. I bought two cows in the spring and one in the fall, because we could use the pasture on the place we stayed. Here we stayed for three years.

In the fall of 1887, I went to Dakota Territory, Nelson County. I had friends there so was going to visit, and I stayed through threshing. Wages were good. They paid $2.00 a day. So I earned enough to pay my fare both ways and a little besides.

There was still free land to be had. But I did not decide then but thought about it through the winter, and the outcome was that we decided to move to Dakota."

Excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Memorial Day 2009, North Dakota

2009-06-14T08:48:00.000-07:00

My Dad, his family, and neighbors are buried in a country cemetery in North Dakota. Trees surround it on three sides; it's open to the south.

During a windy week last summer, I mapped the cemetery. 118 graves; a handful of headstones with photos, many with Norwegian inscriptions.

Headstones tell a story, but I'm greedy. I want details. What did their voices sound like? Did they laugh quietly or could you hear it across the fields? How did they look when they were worried? Why did they choose those names for their kids?

Make a list of the things you'd like someone to remember about you. Even if (especially if) it's a small thing. Like bringing lilac branches inside in late March so you could see green leaves in April. Which hat you liked to wear at a ball game. How you grabbed a handful of carrots out of the garden on your way to the tractor. The first book that made you laugh out loud.

50 years from now, your memories will be gold.

Newcomers at church

2009-05-19T05:21:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-05-16T17:10:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-05-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-05-09T04:50:00.000-07:00

"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 . . .

2009-05-07T04:42:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-05-05T03:00:00.000-07:00

"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!

2009-05-03T04:34:00.000-07:00

"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

2009-05-02T04:00:00.000-07:00

"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.

Boarding the Ship

2009-04-30T16:23:00.000-07:00

"Friday, May 1, was a church holiday (Bededag), so the streets were crowded with people who were enjoying their one-day vacation. All the way to the harbor, the streets were filled with pleasure-seeking people. About three or four o'clock in the afternoon we were on our way through this throng with our children and suitcases. Here again our traveling companions proved to be real friends. They hired a coach, the most elegant one I had ever seen, and escorted us to port. That was quite an adventure for "mountain folks." They carried our baggage and the smaller children on ship for us, where they left us in a chaos of people, children, boxes, and knapsacks. We were all put into one room.

Oh! What noise and excitement. I got the children near me, and we sat on one place watching in bewilderment until we were finally shown to our berths. There were berths along the whole length of the ship, but we had to furnish our own bedclothes. When we got our assigned places, it was safest to put our belongings in them and sit there. If we ventured away, someone else would perhaps claim it all before we got back. At last we were all aboard the ship that was to carry us across the uncertain waters of the North Sea. This time, however, the voyage was not as rough as it could have been. I saw very little of the fjord when we left Oslo because I was on deck very little the first evening. The next morning we stopped at Christiansand for more passengers."

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

All Aboard for Oslo

2009-04-27T03:06:00.000-07:00

"From here we were to travel by train--a new experience for some of us, at least. We got our tickets and our luggage checked, and then "all aboard" for the capitol city. Arriving there we took a taxi to a hotel, traveling in style (som Storfolk). There we stayed until May 1, when our ship sailed.

This gave us two days in Oslo, and we tried to do a little sight seeing, such as the King's Palace, the Fort, etc., all from a distance, of course. Our friends, as we called them, the traveling men on our journey, wanted to show us their side of city life. so they took us to a very nice restaurant and treated us."

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

Sleeping in the Servant's Quarters

2009-04-23T04:29:00.000-07:00

"The drivers were acquainted with the servants at the hotel and intended to ask them to house the wayfarers. With a few words of praise and perhaps a "drink or so" they hoped this could be accomplished. But to our dismay (or perhaps good fortune) the servants had gone to a dance. During this time we sat in the wagons with our sleeping children. Finally they found one who could unlock a door for us which revealed a room with a couple of empty beds. This room was given to us two women and children.

We entered this strange cold room, tired and discouraged, after a long hard day and half a night in a wagon, over rough, muddy, uneven roads. We put the children on the bed without undressing them. We, too, stretched out across the bed without removing our garments. Where the rest of the party got lodging we did not know. We had slept a little while when we were awakened by loud singing and talking. It was those returning from the party in a not too sober condition!

What would happen now when they found their room occupied by strangers? But there our drivers were again, talking to them, asking their pardon for the intrusion, explaining the situation to them, and I imagine gave them a tip or so, because we were not disturbed for the remainder of the night."

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

Ferry Crossing at Noresund

2009-04-22T03:00:00.000-07:00

"In the afternoon we descended the slope, which brought us to Noresund in the evening. Here we crossed the Sound by ferry. As the wagons were driven out on the ferry with us in the wagons, I'll admit we were a little scared, and so were the horses. In fact, the horses were unhitched and the drivers held them that way. Reaching the opposite side we discovered there was no convenient place to stay for the night. So the horses were again hitched to the wagon, and we continued on our way expecting to reach Vikersund later that night and from there continue by train to Oslo the following day."

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

Steep Mountains and Narrow Valleys

2009-04-21T17:05:00.000-07:00

"I wish I could take you with me so you could see for yourself the winding road down through the narrow valley. We arrived at Gulsvik late that night. There were the shores of the inland sea "Kroderen." In the summer, steamships could be seen here, but now, even the last of April, found the sea covered with ice. Not strong enough to drive across though, which meant we had to detour up a mountain slope about four miles (a day's journey).

Ringnes Aasen was a long steep forest covered trail, with very few, if any, dwellers. The day was warm and windy, which melted the snow leaving the trail just one mush. (Snegraut, the Hallings said.) The tired horses trudged through this all day with their heavy load.

At noon we had reached the top of the mountain. Here was a moss covered hut where two old people lived. We rested here, got out our lunch baskets and bought coffee from old Guri Saettra. Ole Berg, being tired, laid down on the not too inviting bed. The rest of us questioned this act but said nothing. When he got out again the others discovered a "bug" on his back, which brought on a hunt and more laughter."

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

Horse Power

2009-04-21T16:55:00.000-07:00

"One horse was 'no good.' When we came to a hill, and there were many of them, the men would get out and walk, which was the custom in Norway anyway when hauling loads with only one horse. And often times they would lend a hand by pushing on the load."

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

Next stop: Nesbyen

2009-04-20T16:40:00.000-07:00

"At noon the next day we arrived in Nesbyen. Naturally we could not afford a hotel, so we called on the well-known violin player (spilleman) Tor Brattestad, to hear his violin. Unfortunately for us, he was not at home. So we rested our tired horses, got out our lunch basket amd hot coffee from Mrs. Brattestad, and then continued our journey down the barren mountain slopes. April was too early for signs of spring up in the mountains."

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

On the Road: Nedrebraaten

2009-04-19T16:28:00.000-07:00

"Our party consisted of a young couple and their one child, a friend of ours who was to help me with the children and baggage, the three children, Anna, Michael, and Lars, the latter aged one and a half years, and myself. My father's hired man went with us to Nedrebraaten where Birgit Nedrebraaten (Tosten's sister) lived. Here was another sad farewell with many good wishes for our safe journey. Our first night was spent in "Danielpladsen i Herra." There was no hotel, so there were no feather beds or soft pillows. Here three more men had joined our party. They were collectors going out to interview their customers."

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

Sigrid's Journey to America Begins

2009-04-12T06:02:00.000-07:00

In 1919, Sigrid wrote an account of her journey from Norway to America. Her daughter, Selma Lillehaugen Moe, translated this account and Tosten's autobiography during the winter of 1945-1946.

We're going to quote from Sigrid in the next series of posts.

"On the 26th of April, 1885, our three children (Anna, Mikkel, and Lars) and I left my dear native land Gjeldaker, Al, Hallingdal and began the long journey to America, where my husband had already been for one year.

Many dear memories are linked to that dear home and those whom I left behind that day. My father, who already was past middle age, grieved our departure very deeply. So much so, in fact, that the next day he contracted pneumonia. His prayers for our welfare and safe voyage went with me and my family throughout my whole life's journey. Because he was a man of prayer, and I being his only daughter and only child by his first marriage, I can understand now what it meant for parents to be left alone and see their children venture out into this world filled with trials and temptations.

The farewell with Father, Mother, and friends I omit. Only those of our Norwegian descent who have had this actual experience can fully appreciate and understand what such a farewell really means. Therefore only in my own memory will this scene be reviewed and relived. "

$1.00 in My Pocket

2009-04-09T04:59:00.000-07:00

Tosten had $1.00 when he started in Minnesota. The first summer he earned $55 working for two elderly neighbors, cutting hay with a scythe. When winter came, he went to Wisconsin to work at a logging camp.

While he was gone, his brother Lars arranged tickets for Sigrid, Anna, Michael, and baby Lars to come to America. Companies were competing against each other, lowering the price for passage. They bought five tickets -- two adults and three children -- for $65. The extra ticket was for a young man who had worked for them in Norway. Tosten was glad to buy him a ticket, as he could help Sigrid and the children during the trip. They arrived at Lars' house on May 26, 1885.

Reunion with brother Lars

2009-04-06T04:39:00.000-07:00

"When I got there, I found that Lars had moved six miles farther on, but the family that lived there now were Danes so I could talk to them. I stayed there that night and the next morning their hired man, who also was Norwegian and who was going out to herd cattle, said if I would go with him until six o'clock, he would take me to Lars' that evening. This I did gladly, because he had a horse and buggy, so we sat in that all day. He was a lively fellow, and he knew Lars real well, so he was all for having some fun with him. He made sure that any of my baggage with my name on was well hidden.

When we got there Lars was outside. They started to talk.

'So you have a stranger with you, too, this evening, and I believe he is a newcomer.'

'Ja, that is right, and he wants to stay here overnight.'

Lars thought that would be possible, but he had to know what part of Norway he was from.

'Well, he is a Halling.'

Lars was that too. What part of Hallingdal?

'Leveld.'

Lars came a couple of steps nearer the buggy, and then I got down and said I thought it was about time to shake hands.

'Is it Tosten then?'

'Yes, that is who it is.'

Here the conversation ended. Lars was too surprised for words."

Excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917.

Sailing to America

2009-04-01T02:52:00.000-07:00

Tosten made his way to the United States.

"I left home June 15, 1884 and by boat from Oslo on June 21, which happened to be my birthday. We sailed via Hamburg and Bremen, which happened to be the cheapest route. I wrote home from these places and from New York, where we docked July fourth. On July 8, I arrived at Dexter, Minnesota, which was my destination. My brother Lars lived ten miles from there, and I caught a ride with the mail man."

Excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Dreams of America

2009-03-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

Weary of losing money, Tosten looked toward America.

"It was in March that I moved to my own farm "Styrkestad." I had $800 in cash and 13 loads of property, as we say. When I had been there seven years, I had gone back $100 every year. Then I thought I had tried long enough. I was not satisfied when I could not take care of myself. I did not like to keep on until I had lost the place either, because I did not understand such transactions. Those who did could do it that way. It was America I thought of and dreamed of, but how to manage to get there was another question."

--excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Farmers, Banks, and Debt

2009-03-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

Norway introduced the gold standard and a banking system, which had a negative effect on many farmers.

"Now people who had money were to put it in the bank. Before, they would loan it out to farmers for a year with either a mortgage as security or sometimes only a promissory note. The farmer then had to borrow from the bank with interest and a certain amount of the principal had to be paid twice a year. If it wasn't paid on the exact date, there was compound interest to pay.

It was customary for the farmers to store their produce and sell during the winter with perhaps a few cattle spring and fall, and therefore they did not have the necessary cash to meet these obligations from the bank. They then began to sell their produce a little at a time, but then they had to go through the middleman, and he, too, had to have his profit. So the farmer was on the losing end either way. Many farmers went bankrupt during this time."

--excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

The Farmer Finds a Wife

2009-03-28T05:25:00.000-07:00

When Tosten was 30, he bought a farm called "Styrkestad," and decided it was time to get married.

"If I was to be a full-fledged farmer, I had to have a wife. So now I had to try a little along that line, too. But seeing I was going to be busy, it was not wise to make the distance too great. I tried my luck in the immediate vicinity and the final answer was "Yes, she supposed so," seeing I had a place where she could live and call home.

On April 25, 1878, I was married to Sigrid Larsdatter Gjeldaker. Seeing that was taken care of, it was to settle down for good."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

A Decade of Military Service

2009-03-27T05:17:00.000-07:00

When Tosten was 20 years old, his father died. He moved home to help his Mother on the farm. After two years, he was drafted for compulsory training in the military. His mother then sold the family farm to his oldest brother.

"I was in training 40 days. Then I drew so high a number that I qualified for the reserve. So I did not have to stay in training any more, but was still under military rule and had to get permission if I left home for any length of time. This extended over a period of five years. We were then called to serve in the National Guard for five years. But this was not so strict. We did not need permission if we left home for longer trips. In all I was under military rule and in line for active duty for ten years."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Business Ventures

2009-03-26T05:02:00.000-07:00

Tosten spent 13 years trading -- sheep, cattle, horses, hides, leather, even butter and cheese. Here is how he got started:

"I went to Lerdahl's Oine (island) to a territory called Aurdal. My father had been there before and bought sheep, so I was to follow in his footsteps, so to speak. They were nice people to have dealings with. They were glad to have us "Saue Hallinger" (sheep Hallings) as they called us, because we brought money into their midst."

"When we had made our purchase, it was to gather our flock and begin the home journey. This was usually the last days in May or the first days in June. First we went by boat, and later we herded the sheep the rest of the way, which was about 12 Norwegian miles (84 American). It was strenuous work. But then we were young and husky and managed nicely. But it took a lot of runnning! It took us usually a week when we had just a small flock. We then got some farmers to herd them together with their cattle until fall when we butchered them and hauled them to town during the winter. Later when our business grew and we had bigger flocks, we would rent meadows and do our own herding, and then in the fall we would gradually move on to different territories and butcher and sell as we moved along. This worked out better."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Travel to Oslo

2009-03-23T05:16:00.000-07:00

In 1864 Tosten went with his father to Oslo. "I was supposed to drive one of the rigs. It was my first trip so far from home, and it was a pleasure trip too, to see the capital city. However, it was a long journey, twenty Norwegian miles (140 miles) with a heavy load. And no better bed at night but the floor, with our overcoats for covering. That was what was called "resting place" at that time. We had the privilege of making a fire in the stove if necessary, but there were no charges except 3 cents for a cup of coffee. It usually took us a whole week to drive one way if we happened to strike bad roads. Usually the whole trip took about three weeks. The following winter, too, I had the same opportunity; after that Father quit going, and I went alone."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Confirmed in 1863; Considered Grown Up

2009-03-22T05:14:00.000-07:00

"When I was 16, the winter of 1863, I read for the minister. We were 40 boys and about the same number of girls. We were confirmed June 28, 1863. And after that I was considered grown up and got to be that too, especially in the work there was to be done."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Chores and Herding

2009-03-21T05:12:00.000-07:00

"Most of the work for us children was chores. And my first work besides that was to help on the threshing floor in the winter after school hours. Then came springs work, and after that the herding seasons (gjete), as we said. But here I was more lucky than most of the others because I had a helper. Sissel and I were twins, and consequently the same age. They did say Sissel was a couple hours older than I, but that made no difference when it came to herding except that I herded spring and fall and she during the summer. Therefore, I began to stay home during the summers earlier than most others."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

"Omgangs skole"

2009-03-20T05:08:00.000-07:00

"I started school when I was seven years old. At that time there was "omgangs skole," that is, a few days at each home. There was no school house. The school term was from October 14 to April 14, which was considered winter. The circuit was too big for all, so it was divided into two districts so that the attendance was divided. And besides, there was a lot to be done at home, so school attendance was irregular for the short time we had. It was all right for those who were fairly good to read, as we said. But even if we were home from school during the day we still had our lessons to memorize in the evening, and Mother and Father heard them. That is the way school was in those days."

-- excerpt from Tosten's autobiography, written in 1917

Tosten Mikkelsen Lillehaugen (1847–1934)

2009-03-15T04:35:00.000-07:00

Tosten and his twin sister Sissel were born on June 21 on the Lillehaugen farm in Leveld, Al, Hallingdal to Mikkel Sevatsen and Sissell Tostendatter. On April 25, 1878, he married Sigrid Larsdatter Gjeldaker. “Seeing that was taken care of, it was to settle down for good.”

Sigrid mentions Tosten in her letters, but we don’t get a lot of detail. (My husband pointed this out.) We could speculate on family dynamics, but I prefer a simple theory: paper and time were scarce, and Sigrid’s top priority in her letters was to describe her children and their lives in the U.S.

Fortunately, we have a wealth of information about Tosten’s life from an even better source: Tosten himself. In 1917, he wrote a short account of his life in Norway and the U.S. We’re going to spend the next few posts filling in the background and details of his life.

Prairie Skies

2009-03-10T18:17:00.000-07:00

As I write this post, a blizzard is raging in North Dakota. For the uninitiated, blizzards cause white-out conditions and drill flinty ice into your face when you venture outside.

In North Dakota, most conversations start and end with the weather, especially if you’re a farmer. Your livelihood depends on the sky.

And what a sky! People who focus on the ground always miss the show.

When I was a kid, my aunt would visit in the summer. We would run up the hill and take pictures of the sunset—at 10pm. Then we would watch the colors slowly dissolve. I think those colors kept her going through the gray Seattle winters.

I live in the city now. But when I pay attention, I can still see cloud shadows crossing the prairie.

Trading Mountains for Clouds

2009-03-08T04:49:00.000-07:00

The immigrant experience always involves huge contrasts, from culture and language to food and new neighbors.

When you move from Norway to North Dakota, you also trade mountains for clouds.

Guest Post: Ann Wallace

2009-03-05T16:33:00.000-08:00

Today I'm pleased to welcome my cousin, Ann Wallace, who tells us about her involvement in our book project.

"A number of years ago, Cousin Tess casually announced at the family reunion that she had obtained copies of letters Grandma Sigrid had written to relatives in Hallingdal, which had been saved in Norway all those years. Some time later I cornered her at a family wedding and compelled her (I like to think with my passion, but more likely with my nagging) to let me help her get them published. Skeptical, but relieved not to have to do her own typing, she sent me a packet of photocopies of the translation done by a "lady in the neighborhood" in North Dakota who could read the dialect, and of the originals. I sat down at my PC, and started typing.

I was stunned. And moved. Again and again, as I worked my way through those pages, I stopped to wipe tears away. I read the mother's perspective on well-known family stories of tragedy and loss. I felt the heartrending love and loneliness of a daughter across the ocean from her beloved father. Her story of my grandfather's birth told how, even as a baby, he was remarkable among a family of unique, gifted children.

In those letters, I got to know the great-grandmother I never knew, because in her writing, she let her pain, joy, prejudice, disillusionment, pride, and all the fragility of the human spirit come through. Through her, I better understand the strong family bond we have. And how an immigrant farming family from North Dakota produced (and continues to produce) so many remarkable people.

I am proud to have played a small (but pivotal!) part in the publication of Sigrid's letters. I find myself thinking about Sigrid often. Her example of faith and love is a constant inspiration, and her fine letters are a strong reminder that family contact is the most important thing in life. "

Brother Knut Nelson

2009-03-02T14:35:00.000-08:00

When Sigrid's brother Knut arrived in North Dakota, he was welcomed with classic prairie weather:

Winter came one month too early and they had to close the school. They couldn’t bring the little ones to school in the cold and all this snow on the prairie. . . As I have already said – winter came too early for many – yes, entirely too early because there are many who haven’t threshed, and many had thought of building more and preparing better, but the snow wouldn’t wait till they were done. A few days ago we had a terrible blizzard for four days. It blew and snowed so all that time. Some people tied a string to the corner of the house so they could find their way inside again. Yes, that was the worst snowstorm I’ve ever seen since I came to America, and I hope I never see it again.

Gudmundsrud and Gjeldaker farms

2009-02-27T06:48:00.000-08:00

In Norway, families took the name of their farms as their surnames. Gudmundsrud (pictured at left) was the name of the farm that Nils Knudsen Gudmundsrud purchased in 1833 and sold to his son Nils in 1868.

Gjeldaker (or Gjeldokk) is the name of the farm that Nils K. Gudmundsrud bought in 1857 and sold to his son, Lars Gjeldaker, in 1869.

The farms were near Ål, Hallingdal, high in the mountains of central Norway.

Birgit Myking Gjeldaker

2009-02-26T02:58:00.000-08:00

Birgit Myking Gjeldaker (1841-1923) was Sigrid's stepmother and her aunt (sister to Anne Myking). Lars and Birgit married when Sigrid was seven years old.

Soon Sigrid had little brothers to contend with -- which she loved. Ola Ruud, Nils Gjeldaker, and Knut Nelson are pictured here with Lars and Birgit.

In 1896, Knut came to North Dakota to homestead. Sigrid writes:

"He helps the boys with ice-skating and helps take care of the small boys. Sigvald and Nels often sit one on each knee, and I say he is now paying back an old bill that I lent him one time."

I would love to get more details about Anne and Birgit. If any readers out there have more info, please send me an email (see the link in the right column). I'll share it with everyone in a future post.

Anne Myking Gjeldaker

2009-02-23T10:51:00.000-08:00

Anne Myking Gjeldaker (1834-1857) was Sigrid's mother.

I still remember the afternoon when I realized who was in this picture. I was sitting at my parents' dining room table in North Dakota, going through envelopes of pictures that belonged to my aunt Tess. We had been working on the project for several months and the faces in these old photos were becoming familiar. Although I had seen this photo before, it finally clicked. This was Lars Gjeldaker as a young man. This had to be Anne. And this baby, tilting her sober little head, was Sigrid.

Maybe it's because I knew this story would soon take a turn--Anne would die, Lars and Sigrid would be alone--but I couldn't stop thinking about the look on Anne's face.

Lars Gjeldaker

2009-02-19T20:23:00.000-08:00

Lars Gjeldaker was Sigrid’s father. In his day, he was considered the finest teacher in Ål. He was known for always being kind, loving, and gentle with children, and had a unique way of motivating children so they wanted to learn. He was a master storyteller with a lively imagination. He taught for 51 years, from 1846 to 1897.

When he retired from teaching, he received the King’s Medal for his fine work as a citizen. Over one hundred people attended a special festival; ninety were former pupils. After his retirement, he served as a substitute teacher for two years, even though he was 68 years old.

Like his father, Lars was well known for his writing skills. People still commented about his handwriting years later, and Sigrid mentions it several times in the letters.

He was a deeply religious man who took part in a religious movement in the 1850s. Many people came to him with their deepest spiritual questions. He wrote a history about the pastors in Ål, and helped build a new church.

In civic affairs he was involved in politics, and helped start the Ål bank. He also did family research and wrote his memoirs.

=========================

I often wonder how he felt that last morning as he watched his oldest daughter ride away with her children, her trunk, and her hopes for a better future in America.

The Family: Nils Knudsen Gudmundsrud

2009-02-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

Over the next several posts, I will introduce you to Sigrid's family members. We'll start with her grandfather, Nils Knudsen Gudmundsrud (1803-1883). From a humble beginning, he became a teacher, the first local man to serve as mayor of Ål and Hol, and the first director of the Ål Sparebank. He was known for his fine handwriting and often was asked to write letters and legal papers for people in the area.

In 1833 he bought the Gudmundsrud farm, where he and his wife, Sigrid, raised their family. Three of their sons are mentioned in the letters: Store Ole Nilsen, Reverend Ole Nilsen, and Lars Gjeldaker.

Letter Excerpt: February 25, 1892

2009-02-15T04:29:00.000-08:00

February 25, 1892

Dear unforgettable Father! Mother and Brothers,

Now that at last your long-awaited letter has come, I want to send you my thanks for the letter. I often wondered why Father waited so long before he sent us a letter. How lovingly welcome to receive your dear familiar hand again and read the dear lines from Father. Yes, I thank God for letting that happen. With gladness I see that everything is well with you at home. And the same I can say from here because we have our health to date, which is the best of everything good. God gives us His grace.

First we must tell you that on November 4 we were blessed with a little well-shaped son, Theodore, who now is growing and bright for his age.

The crops were good last year, the first wheat harvest in Dakota. Now we will see if it will be better here. Some have given up their land and moved away.

You must all now live and greet everyone we know and would like to hear from us. Loving greetings from me and mine. Clara now has a pen. She will write to Grandfather later.

Sigrid

Live Well Letters: Introduction

2009-02-14T10:10:00.000-08:00

In 1885 my great-grandmother, Sigrid Gjeldaker Lillehaugen, emigrated from Hallingdal, Norway to America with her three children. She joined her husband Tosten in Minnesota, and in 1888 they moved west to homestead in North Dakota.

I grew up on a farm three miles from where Sigrid and Tosten lived. Every summer we held a family reunion at their house. As I made my yearly survey of the items in her house -- spinning wheel, organ, books, tall buttoned shoes, a tiny pair of spectacles-- I wondered about their lives. Drawings and photos of sober faced ancestors watched me watch them. In a dark side room a few clothes still hung on hooks. What if I could go back just once and see what it was really like?

In 2002 I got a phone call that gave me that chance.

For years, my aunt Tess had been working on a project involving Sigrid's letters (more on this in a later post.) When it came time to publish them, I was invited to join the project, having worked in publishing for a few years. Not sure what to expect, I started reading. Right away, her voice rang through. She was even funny. "It appears to me that I have been written down in your forgotten book at your place. But to freshen your minds, I am sending you a few lines. It could happen that it might interest you." When she wrote about her sheep and spinning, I thought of my Dad. When he was a little boy, she would bring her spinning wheel and sit by the south side of their house, spinning in the sunshine. Eyes twinkling, she would tell him stories in Norwegian.

In 2004, we published Live Well: The Letters of Sigrid Gjeldaker Lillehaugen with Western Home Books. In this blog, I'll share some of her letters and tell you more about our project. Together, we'll walk through the door of her house and get a glimpse into her life 100 years ago.