Back to Selbu

July 27, Sunday

Mid-morning, Torgeir and Heidi dropped us off at the car rental center downtown and Barb and I were off to revisit Selbu.  I have many questions and still so many details to discover.  Our first stop is to visit Bjorn and Anne again.  They greet us with coffee and lemsa and this time, just the four of us, sitting on their deck overlooking beautiful Lake Selbu, we discuss more common genealogy. 

More lemsa with Bjorn

Anne calls a local resource and soon we are in our cars traveling to that resource, the Granby Gard.  An old farm, converted to a museum, the Gard serves as a center of documentation for all those who have immigrated from Selbu to America.  The museums owners and curators, Inger and Age, (Garberg family lineage) greet us eagerly, and talk warmly of my family, of my hometown Lacrosse, and of my home church Selbu. 

Inger and Age, inside the museum.  Look how modern the inside of the "barn" is.

With Anne and Bjorn outside of the barn, the museum.

The walls of the old barn, preserved for heritage, have been preserved on the exterior, while the interior projects a modern and stylish look.  One end of the barn is glass, looking out onto the beautiful valley.  The museum has meeting rooms for up to 20 and it can serve as a pilgrimage center, offering space for sleep, reflection, and research.  The interior walls are filled with posters, pictures, maps and other documentation that describe the immigration from Selbu to areas in North America.  My families’ destinations in which they lived before moving to Lacrosse are all noted on the wall.  They include St. Paul, Marietta, and Kasson, MN, Ryder and Minot SD, and finally Lacrosse, WA.

I wanted to find the “Wigen” connection, my mother’s maiden name.  Her grandfather and his two brothers were some of the four cofounders of my home church.  It bears the name Selbu because of their roots in Selbu Norway.  Yet, on walking through the Selbu Kirche graveyard, I found no Wigen headstones or anything close such as Vigen or Wiggen.  On inquiring to Inger as to why this is so, she remarked that perhaps they lived in Norway under the name of Nervig or Norbye.  Families in Norway, in the early 1900’s and beyond, usually took the name of the area in which they lived.  Some, when immigrating to the US, then took back their family name which could be the case for my Wigen ancestors.  Inger than brought out a picture and noted that it was of the Wigens, but she asked if I knew their names.  There in the picture was my great-grandfather Peder Wigen, my great-grandmother Betsy (Beret), my grandfather Jurgen and his brother John, and their twin sisters, Rae and Ragna, Ragna being my Godmother, carried me in baptism in 1947.  The picture, I think, would be circa 1905?

My great grandparents, my grandfather and his siblings, circa 1905

Are these my great-great grandparents?

I could have stayed there for days, talking to Inger and Age, and studying their massive collection, but we needed to move on.  We said goodbye to Anne and Bjorn.  Such wonderful people again had crossed our paths and have been so willing to help us on our journey of discovery.  We will stay in touch and I hope we see each other again soon.

Barb and I drove around the valley and the lake for a couple of hours, driving by the Mobost residence, another distant cousin, who was building a large barn on his formidable farm. 

Toward the Aune farm from across Lake Selbu.

Barely field in the Selbu area

We ate pizza at a local restaurant and checked into the Selbusjoen around 6 p.m.    Barb and I sat on the deck, me drinking beer, she sipping a wine.  All at once I felt very complete and very tired.  Yes, there are new questions but there are answers to old ones.  One segment of the trip, the Aune/Wigen side is done.  I am so pleased, so fulfilled and all at once so tired.  We went to bed at 7:30 and slept soundly and comfortably for 10 hours.

A Pilgrimage

Travel flirts with the unknown-that’s why we do it.  There are a lot of responses appropriate to the unfamiliar.  Fear is one of them: there is also resistance, denial, delight, hope, attention.  Tourists respond to the unknown by consuming it, whether by purchasing artifacts or doing ghost walks or buying postcards.  Pilgrims respond to the unknown simply by being there.

                                                Martha Storz, The Progress of Pilgrimage

Journeys cross divides.  Once on the other side, the traveler remains the same person carrying the same baggage.  But on the other side of certain divides, the traveler senses a new identity; that same baggage now seems useful for a new purpose.

                                                Arthur Frank,  The Wounded Storyteller

I’m building out the distinction below between service learning, pilgrimage and tourism.

Servants go to do, tourists go to consume, and pilgrims go to receive.

We’ll probably do a bit of everything and we’ll probably do all three.

                                Martha Stortz, The Progress of Pilgrimage

I give thanks for arriving safely in a new dawn , for the gift of eyes to see the world, the gift of mind to feel at home.  In my life, the waves of possibility breaking on the shore of dawn, the harvest of the past, that awaits my hunger and all the furtherings this new day will bring.

John O”Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

To become a pilgrim is understood as a way of looking at life itself: constantly moving and willing to break away from fixed ideas about oneself and others, breaking away from lifestyles that do not respect the earth as a community for all living creatures.  The pilgrim realizes that there is a change to undergo, and afterwards to return home with extended faith – an understanding life and a willingness to change.

                                                                                Arne Bakken, Pilgrimage Pastor  Trondheim, Norway

All should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.

                                                                                                James Thurber, Further Fables for Our Time

A pilgrimage is a journey to search for a moral or spiritual significance.  Typically it is a journey to a shrine of a person’s beliefs and/or faith.  The best known pilgrimage is the Muslim trip to Mecca.  However, pilgrimage is not limited to the Muslim faith.  Historically it is fundamental to the Jewish to visit the Wailing Wall, the Catholics to the Vatican, or the Hindus to the Ganges. 

This trip, for Barb, me and family, is far more personal.  It is a pilgrimage.  It is not a search for a religious shrine.  It is a journey to honor our familys’ roots.  Our faith, which originated in our familys’ beliefs, then teachings, handed down through so many generations since the 1500’s, is rooted in the towns and farms of Selbu and Bergen. As we traveled together each of those six days from Oslo to Bergen to Trondheim then Selbu, I handed out one of the quotes listed above to each person.  I wanted to reinforce to the youngers that this wasn’t just a trip to experience and celebrate.  It was a trip to learn and discover something very personal and dear.  My goal was for them to connect with the younger generation in Norway as well.  They did.  I am not so sure the passages above set any tone or significance, but all the youngers did appear to be respectful and honored to visit their Aune and Thompson roots and to appreciate family industry (here I use the term industry to mean a systematic labor for some intended purpose and to the creation of something of value).  We now have a better understanding of the hardships and determination of our ancestors, their hard work and sacrifice to succeed, and their faith that was/is the unpinning of those efforts.  Life, as it is now, will not always be.  Life, as it once was, can be learned from.  Life, in the future, must be approached with knowledge and understanding, best learned from experience.  Life is a pilgrimage.

Distraction but Service

Today, August 20

Oh how I have longed to convert my journaling in Norway to the blog for history, documentation, and the communication of the joy of our pilgrimage.  I began that joyous task soon after our return from Norway on August 4,  but, I was called into Jury Duty on August 11.  I was assigned a criminal trial, attempted murder and a second charge of criminal assault. I come home tonight, wishing to continue the documentation of our Norway experience, but again, as in so many nights in the last few weeks, I am spent. Intense jury debate has been so taxing, I do not have the energy to express, in creative dialogue, those joys and celebration.  Today, the trial ended.  Hopefully the creative energies will return tomorrow.  In the midst of that trial, I received word that one of my college buddy's 39 year old son, a police officer, had died as result of the mishandling of a loaded weapon.  During these last few days I could not blog about our joy, discovery, and renewal.  My dear friends grieve.  I grieve with them.  And I grieve for those that were not served by the trial in which I tried my best to serve.  Sometimes service does not have rewards.  But one must serve. 

Selbu day 2

Friday, July 25

Barb and I awoke early in this morning in Selbu, anticipating major “goodbyes”.  Ben, Penny, Nathan and Cailyn met us early, ready to partake of the extensive Scandinavian breakfast, and ready to break away from their parents to explore Norway on their own.  As family, we have stated many tearful goodbyes over the many years, but this one was unique.  As they readied to board their car, I hugged each, tears were in my eyes as I told each how I loved them and I thanked them for honoring me and Barb by partaking in this pilgrimage.  I prayed that their journey, so far, was meaningful, and that they each had gained some perspective of who they are, and had gained perspective from where they have come.  The overwhelming emotion present at the moment of each hug for me was the abundant blessing that God has given me, that each had experienced this special place of ancestry and heritage.  I wished them God Speed as they continue to explore their ancestors’ country on their own, as Barb and I did in 1973.  They boarded their car to the airport, and then they were off to the Lofoten Islands.

After the goodbyes, we met Kari and Eric, whose plans had changed.  They had entered Norway via train with Euro rail passes, and on viewing the website to view rail tickets; the morning trains out of Trondheim were full.  They had a rental car and a hotel in Trondheim, so they drove back to Trondheim, not sure they would get out in the p.m. or stay overnight.  Tearful goodbyes again, with the same sentiment.

Torgeir, Heidi, Barb and I checked out and, again riding with the Vollsets, drove to the Selbu Kirche.  Oh, how I wish the youngins had seen it.  Unlike the Trondheim cathedral, the church is made of wood and stands of about 800 years of building and maintenance.  Thus, I deduct, it was built as a Catholic church, then converted to Lutheran.  I sat in the pews again, as I had done at the Zoar Lutheran Church, the church in MN that my family had emigrated to in 1903.   I sat there at the Zoar church, documented by this blog in 2007, and I thanked God and my ancestors for the legacy of work, service, and faith that had been instilled in my DNA.   Again it happened in the Selbu Kirche.  Such a meaningful  time, such rich memories came back to me, ancestors thanking me for respecting their efforts and their being. A meaningful time, there in that pew.  Few may understand.

Torgeir drove us the some 30 miles back to Trondheim.  On the way he received a text that Kari and Eric are back at the hotel, staying overnight to catch the early morning train tomorrow.  Torgeir, the gallant Viking that he is, wants to pick up Kari and Eric and take them out to dinner.  We meet them at their hotel.  Torgeir drives Barb, Kari, Eric to the Tyhold tower, Heidi and I take a taxi, and we enjoy a meal at the top of Trondheim, the revolving restaurant that gives us a 360 degree of the city.

View toward Volsett home.  Oh so much fun.

After dinner, some of the group walks to the nearby Vollset home, while Torgeir drives me.  We sit in the sun into the late night.  Finally, it is the goodbye for Kari and Eric.  Torgeir drives them down to their hotel.

Selbu

Thursday, July 24

We joined the group at their downtown hotel around 10.  Ben and Eric had picked up their perspective rental cars and they followed Torgeir out of town, through Hell, (yes, Hell is a village)

and on through the countryside to the valley of Selbu.  Our first stop was at the home of Bjorn and Anne Lundgren, my second cousins.  Sitting on the deck in the very warm sun, a fantastic view of lake and valley lay before us.  Anne brought out pictures of my relatives who had visited Selbu, my grandfather, several aunts and uncles, sisters Ann and Corrine, and niece Kirsten included.  Anne, a retired English teacher, has a keen interest in family history. 

Anne welcoming us to their home in Selbu.

Torgeir, Bjorn, Norm and Brynjar, Torgeir's cousins so therefore my second cousins.

Spisa (eat)

From their side yard overlooking Selbu Lake.

The entire group sans Nathan who took the picture.

 They led us to the Selbu store to look at sweaters and other knitting products produced locally, complete with the trademark Selbu rose design. 

After the store, Bjorn lead us to the Aune farm via “Aunevegen”.   Aune way.

The old house, which we visited in 1973, is now gone.  It was hundreds of years old and had been added to several times.  It was inefficient, dark and dreary.  The new home, modern and light, sits at approximately the same spot and has a commanding view of the lake and valley.  Norelf and Elsa welcomed us.  Elsa eloquently described the old home, the valley, and the present farm.  They both work away from the farm, leasing the land out to a neighboring farmer. Again, I stand on a spot which now at least 9 generations of Aunes have lived and prospered.  This is the spot where my father was born, and his father as well, and his…

On the Aune deck with Elsa and Norelf who now live in the Aune house.

Document the visit

Document the visit.

Document the visit.

 

Our next stop was the Nervig home, home of my Grandmother Kari.  Oyvind and Marit greeted us.  Again, as it was in the two prior stops, the flag was up indicating that visitors from afar where coming.  Their daughter, Anne Berit, was quite helpful, eloquent in her English as she described the family and farm history.

Oyvind showing me history of Nervig farm.

Marit and grandson.  Marit is my second cousin through the Nervig side.

 

Our last stop, before the hotel, was the Selbu Kirche.  Here the generations of Aunes and other family members were baptized, confirmed, married, and buried.  Bjorn had done his homework, leading me around to find the grave sites of my great grandparents and beyond.  The graveyard is well maintained; many gravestones kept polished and clean.  One of my great grandparent’s headstones was missing, presumable removed because of disrepair. Unfortunately, the church was locked and the kids did not get to see the interior.

Selbu Kirche, first phase built around 1100.

Graveyard with many ancestors.

Great Grandmother, not buried next to my Great grandfather, interesting.

 

The Selbusjoen is a classic 1930ish resort style hotel overlooking the lake.  It caters to conventions and workshops and is pretty empty during the month of July.  I think there were only one or perhaps two other groups there.  We all met for dinner on the deck, including Torgeir, Heidi, Bjorn, and Anne.  After the 3 hour dinner, we were all tired and went to bed.

Nathan in the lake, Cailyn and Ben approach.

 

Trondheim, Day 2

July 23, Wednesday

During the morning we toured 3 preschools that Heidi oversees, one which was in session.  Everyone in Norway is expected to take a 4 week vacation and July is they typical month people choose to travel so many schools and other agencies close.

 We took the time to visit a grocery store to purchase items for our gathering.  Around four p.m., Kari, Torgeir’s sister arrived with her husband Rolf and son, Steffen.  Then Micheal and Helle arrived as well.  Soon the other Aunes arrived by foot, walking from their downtown hotel.  We sat in the sun or shade, ate, and told stories until around 9.  Midway, Eric choose to make an announcement.  Another baby is on the way in mid-March, about 2 weeks after Ben and Penny are due.  I again am overjoyed but stunned.  To receive this news while sitting in relative’s yard in Norway is too much for me.  Tears of happiness and gratitude flow.

Kari and Kari

Expectant parents

SIDEBAR

It was a joy to somewhat overhear the discussions between our 6 young adults, and Michael and Helle during dinner at the restaurant.  Constant dialogue went on comparing US and Norway culture, with many references to education, work and lifestyle.  After listening to the exchanges for over an hour I asked if I could offer a question and an observation.  I am not an expert on Norwegian culture.  I maintain strongly that one has to be proficient in the native language, especially the vernacular, if one is to truly understand a people’s culture.  I do not speak Norwegian so my understanding and knowledge is limited. 

However, I grew up in a “brand” of Norwegian culture.  My home church, named Selbu for the home village in Norway, was, in my youth, a cloister of transplanted Norwegians.  The church’s services were in Norwegian until 1930 and Norwegian culture permeated especially Christmas and a few other traditions.  My father was fluent in Norwegian and my mother could understand some.  It was rare, but I remember a few private conversations going on between Mom and Dad in Norwegian.  It seemed that most of our family friends, if not all, had Norwegian roots.

My question was, “Is my perception correct?” and it was directed mainly to Michael and Helle.  I then set about trying to communicate my perception.   I use the term perception because I know how inaccurate stereotypes are.  I would rather use a term that indicates that there are exceptions to every perception but it may indicate tendencies. 

 My perception is that Norwegians have a remarkable sense of confidence and pride.  Over the centuries they have taken on the extreme weather and other challenges to flourish.  The need to flourish in such winter extremes has yielded an incredible work ethic.  In moderate or tropical climates, one does not need to work to prepare for the long winter months.  In the tropics, one can get out of bed every morning and go out and pick a banana off a tree for breakfast.  Simple huts offer shade and some shelter from the rain/wind, the only requirements needed in sunny and warm climates.  In Nordic countries they built strong and efficient homes to provide shelter from the cold.  In the summer months, grain, hay, fish, and wild game was harvested and processed (salted, dried or smoked) to be consumed during the long, cold, dark winter.  Clothes, mainly for protection, required a lot of work and detail.  Although hunting and fishing continued throughout the year.  The carts, sleds, and ships were designed to operate in the snow and ice. 

As the generations passed, and as the civilization advanced, the Norwegians readily applied their work ethic to more than just survival.  Ships were built to explore.  Tribes (Vikings) set off to visit and trade, and in some cases pillage and conquer.  In a few cases (Iceland, parts of Great Britain, and Normandy France) the Vikings stayed, settled and integrated into the new culture or created their own.  Coupled with their acquired survival and technical skills, the Catholic church, then after the Reformation the Lutheran Church, had a huge influence.  Not only did the church reinforce the work ethic, it also engrained the concept of service to others, near and far.  

From all of this comes the unique Scandinavian and specifically, Norwegian stereotype.  Norwegians are a proud lot.  They do not need to brag or show.  And when they do, so confident are they, that they do so with a self-depreciating manner.  In their humor, they make fun of their foibles and nuances.  Norwegian music often makes fun of themselves.  This is readily heard in the Ole and Leanna jokes which are quite common here in parts of the US, and the songs made popular by Ivar Haglund (Ivar’s founder) and Stan Boreson , another popular Seattle entertainer, 1950 to present.  This is even more evident in the current Norwegian Olympic curling team.  They wore loud pants, not to show off, but to say “We are good.  We are serious about winning.  But we are not going to take it too seriously.” 

So, as a highly skilled, confident and hardworking culture, they can have their “flamboyant” or “break the stereotype” side.  Along with this comes a history of success and accomplishment.  Norway stood up to the Nazi’s in WWII, made huge sacrifices, and although their county experienced severe devastation, they again succeeded.  They, after the Native American migration in to North America around 10,000 BC, discovered America in the 9^th century.  The Italian, under the Spanish flag, landed in America 500 years later.  Yet we celebrate Columbus Day in October.  Why do we not celebrate Leif Ericson Day?  We don’t have to.  We know.  They are proud of their country and they readily display and wave their flag.  Nationalism is not the theme, however patriotism is and there is a huge difference.

Secondly, although not in every way perfect, the people have made decisions based on pragmatism and good science, rather than relying only on ideology.  Norway did not send soldiers to Viet Nam or to Iraq and thus avoided the costly sacrifices of both of these arguably futile wars.  They have soldiers and aid workers in Afghanistan with their emphasis on training and humanitarian aid.

In summation, Norwegians tend to be a happy, humble but confident lot, reflecting on the success and hard work of their ancestors.  This, in turn, has brought them much success and pride, but they feel they must offer to share that success with others while continuing to downplay their own image by using self-depreciating humor.