Images of Home, 1893

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.

Sigrid's Journey to America Begins

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. "

Anne Myking Gjeldaker

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

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.

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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.