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From Müggenburg to Aztalan – the Schmidts
I’ve spent the day visiting the villages where my great-grandpa Frank Smith’s family originated in northeastern Germany.
I have fond early memories of my maternal grandpa’s mother, Elvina Anderson Smith (1899-1983) but I never knew my grandpa’s father, Frank Smith (1895-1954). My mom has only a couple fuzzy memories of him. But I love that one of the few things she does remember is Grandpa Frank taking her and her brother Glenn fishing on the Rock River in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin. Frank loved to fish.
Frank Smith ice fishing (1940s) Frank was born as Franz Johannes Karl Schmidt on March 17, 1895 in Aztalan – a very small town east of Lake Mills in Jefferson County, Wisconsin. Frank’s parents were Augusta Hahn and William Schmidt, who had met, married and had their first child in Prussia before immigrating to Wisconsin.
Frank was William and Augusta’s sixth child, after Emilge or “Amelia” (1882), Anna (1884), Arthur (1885), Ida (1889) and William (1893). And following Frank there was one more child, John (1897). So, like his wife Elvina, Frank was born in the United States but his childhood was heavily influenced by his parents’ recent immigration experience.
The Schmidts outside their home in Aztalan, Wisconsin in 1900: (from left) an unknown man, Art, William Sr. (Wilhelm), Ida, William Jr., and my great-grandpa Frank.
(Photo courtesy of Dianne Hrobsky, granddaughter of William Schmidt Jr.)Frank’s parents both originated from villages near the city of Stettin in the Prussian province of Pommern (Pomerania). Pomerania has a complicated history, and it is likely that our family’s ancestry reflects this complexity. Prior to Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, the area where Frank’s family came from was part of the Duchy of Pomerania, a vassal state of the Holy Roman Empire. For 150 years, the region was bitterly contested by Prussia-Brandenburg and Sweden, it became a site of intensive German colonization efforts (Ostsiedlung), and like many parts of Europe it experienced the horrors of the Nazis’ “ethnic cleansing” campaigns. With the conclusion of World War II, Pomerania was divided between Allied-occupied Germany and Poland, and Stettin became the Polish city of Szczecin. After 1949 the villages where our ancestors came from were part of the German Democratic Republic (i.e., East Germany, the “DDR”) until the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989.
Given the region’s tumultuous history and fragmentary records, it’s tough to trace the family’s origins much further back than Frank’s grandparents.
Direct ancestors of my great-grandpa Frank Smith Frank’s father William was born as Wilhelm Carl Friedrich Schmidt on April 12, 1857 in a small village called Müggenburg (near Torgelow, northwest of Stettin) in what is now the district of Vorpommern-Greifswald in the state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Germany. At the time of Wilhelm’s birth, Müggenburg was located in Pomerania’s Kreis Ueckermünde. Wilhelm’s parents were Friederike Wackrow and Carl Schmidt. When Wilhelm was born, his father Carl worked as an Arbeitsmann (laborer), and it is possible that he was employed by one of the many industries in the area. The region was especially known for brickmaking.
Location of Müggenburg, where the Schmidts come from In his youth, Wilhelm received a religious education from the state church in Pomerania (Evangelische Landeskirche), he apprenticed as a mason, and he served in the Prussian army. We also know that he had at least one older brother, Carl (1854), who immigrated to Jefferson County, Wisconsin a couple of years after Wilhelm. How Wilhelm Schmidt and Augusta Hahn met is unknown. Both Wilhelm and his brother Carl were stonemasons by trade, and it seems possible that Wilhelm’s work could have taken him south to where the Hahns lived.
Wilhelm Schmidt during his time in the Prussian military (1870s) Augusta and Wilhelm married on March 19, 1882, just before their first child, Emilge, was born. The following spring the new family of three boarded the SS Strassburg out of Bremen and traveled to Baltimore, arriving on May 26, 1883. From there, they took the train to Wisconsin and joined Augusta’s siblings who had settled on farms near Lake Mills and Watertown. Augusta’s older brother Carl L.W. Hahn, his wife Gustine and their three oldest children Carl, Herman and Albertine had taken the Strassburg to Baltimore the prior October, so they probably gave Augusta and Wilhelm some instructions on how to do it.
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Before I share some of the photos of the Schmidts’ hometown in Germany, I’d like to give you some insight into how the genealogical sausage was made. Much of the documentary evidence that I have for Frank’s parents’ origins in Germany comes from one person — a kindly local historian named Hartmut Wegner, who lives in Mönkebude with his wife Helga.
I first contacted Hartmut in May of 2021 after a volunteer genealogy group in Germany referred me to him. I had the names, birthdates and approximate birth locations of both of my great-great grandparents — William and Augusta (Hahn) Schmidt — but I had no documents from Germany that confirmed this information. There was nothing available online; I had tried everything.
Hartmut took on my case. To my great surprise, he tracked down both the Schmidts and the Hahns in the church record books. He did so by using a digital archives of his own creation. Over the past few years, Hartmut has been traveling to local archives in Vorpommern and northwest Poland to personally digitize thousands of records — records that do not exist anywhere online.
Who is this guy? I wondered. What kind of person does this? I had to come to Germany to find out.
Hartmut and I outside his home in Mönkebude, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern It turns out that Hartmut’s local history work goes far beyond what I’d realized. Since retiring from teaching, he has written several books on the history of the area, its schools, churches, and military dead. He has built family trees for friends, colleagues and even perfect strangers like me. His own family history is a massive tome.
Hartmut showing me the history he wrote about his own family 
One of the thousands of scans of church records Hartmut has stored on his computer. I hope this guy has a backup drive! 
I took the Wegners out to dinner to thank them. We all had creamed herring. * * *
I knew from an obituary that my great-grandpa Frank Smith’s father Wilhelm Schmidt came from Müggenburg. And thanks to help from Hartmut, I knew which Müggenburg to visit — there are several in Germany and two of them in this part of Pomerania.
Don’t blink — you might miss this village! The road to Müggenburg The village lies where a tiny road dead-ends in a forest clearing. There are no more than 10 houses. A couple of guys were chatting outside one of the houses, and I explained in a laughable mixture of German and English what I was up to and who my family was. They recognized one of the names I mentioned — Wackrow — and one of them said, “Follow me in your car. I’ll take you there.” Or at least, I imagine that’s what he said in German. And so off we went. We drove through the woods about a half a mile, and then he pointed toward a house next to a huge yard full of scrapped cars. With that, the guy waved and drove back to his own house.
There are no Schmidts in Müggenburg these days, but the local auto scrapyard is owned by Bernd Wackrow. Wackrow was the maiden name of my 3x great-grandmother Friederike Schmidt (Wilhelm’s mother). So naturally I knocked on the door and said “Guten tag”!
The surprised looking guy on the right is Bernd Wackrow It’s uncertain if Bernd and I are actually distant cousins, but I’d say the chances are good considering how small the village is. He even reminded me a little of an uncle of mine on my mom’s side.
Regardless of whether there is a real connection or not, Bernd thought there was — and so did I. He invited me in for a coffee, and we attempted to communicate using Google Translate. As I was heading out, I showed him a translated message on my phone that said, “It’s been so good to meet a family member from Germany.” To my surprise, his eyes welled up and he pulled me in for a giant bear hug.
Germany felt much “homier” from that moment on.
The house that the Wackrows have lived in since the 1880s 
The village of Müggenburg 
Family history is a little like this scrapyard. You never know what you’re going to find. -
Who was Oscar Veum? The search for a biological ancestor.
There’s a word in the Dano-Norwegian language used by 19th century Norwegian priests that sounds just as ugly as it does in English: uægte. It means “illegitimate”. And if you scroll through as many old Norwegian church records as I do, you’ll notice how often it comes up. In the old record books, whether a child was born to a married couple (ægte) or an unmarried couple (uægte) was deemed important enough to warrant a separate column on the page.
Today in the United States, almost no one cares whether a child’s parents are married or not. Every day in the U.S., roughly 10,000 children are born, 40% of whom are born to unmarried couples. In the minute it has taken you to read these last two paragraphs, roughly three American children were born “out of wedlock”.
There may still be some legitimate reasons to care about “legitimacy” (e.g., it can sometimes signify things about the stability of a child’s home life), but the moral stigma of being an unwed parent – particularly harmful for unwed mothers – is largely absent today. This was not the case a century ago in Wisconsin when my paternal grandpa, Bob Rude (1925-2009), was born. The story of who fathered him and the circumstances surrounding that – these things were simply not spoken of.
But in the late 1980s, as my great-grandpa John Rude was approaching 90 and starting to get his affairs in order, it came to light that my Grandpa Bob had never been formally adopted in 1930 when his parents married. They rectified this at the courthouse and officially changed my grandpa’s last name from Helgestad (his mother’s maiden name) to Rude (the name he had used for almost all of his life).
For a brief moment, this taboo subject was spoken of by members of the family, albeit in hushed tones. We knew that Grandpa Bob’s biological father’s name was J. Oscar Veum. We knew that this J. Oscar Veum had worked at the Highway Trailer Company for a number of years. We knew that he’d died of a heart attack at age 49. But we knew nothing else. What was the nature of his relationship to my great-grandmother? Was she taken advantage of? Did he deny paternity? Anyone who could have answered those questions was long gone.
Over the past decade or so, I’ve done research into the questions that could be answered: Who was J. Oscar Veum? Who was his family? And where were they from? Through newspaper articles, church and Census records in Norway and Wisconsin, and limited exchanges with biological relatives, I’ve managed to piece together some rough biographical notes on J. Oscar Veum and his family.
Johan “Oscar” Veum was born on April 5, 1893 in Edgerton, Wisconsin – the fourth of seven children born to Bertha Thorpe (1864-1937) and Erik Ingebretsen Veum (1864-1942). The Veums worked in tobacco on a farm in Christiana township not far from where my great-grandma Borghild Helgestad’s family lived in Busseyville (north of Lake Koshkonong in Wisconsin). The Veums attended the same church as the Helgestads – the East Koshkonong Lutheran Church – and the families would have been familiar with one another.
Oscar’s parents, Erik and Bertha, married in Norway in 1885 and immigrated to Wisconsin the next year. In the photo below, Erik (at right) is overseeing work in one of his tobacco fields. The East Koshkonong Lutheran Church is in the background.
Erik Veum (right) with tobacco field workers, Christiana Township, Wisconsin The March 7, 1919 issue of the Wisconsin Tobacco Reporter (precursor to the Edgerton Reporter) referred to the Veums as “prosperous farmers”, and one indicator of that properity is that their son, Oscar, was sent to the private Albion Academy for his schooling (articles from Dec 11, 1908 and March 5, 1909). Erik also travelled to Norway with two of his daughters in June of 1921 and sent dispatches back to the paper about their trip.
According to a Veum family member I’ve been in touch with, Oscar served in the Navy during the First World War. That family member sent me the two photos below.
Oscar Veum in Navy uniform Two years after my Grandpa Bob was born, Oscar married Edna Wolf.
Edna and Oscar Veum I have yet to make contact with any of Oscar and Edna’s direct descendants.
I have sometimes wondered what Ole and Klara Rude thought about their son John marrying a woman with a five-year old son born out of wedlock. A little research into the Rude family has helped me realize that they were probably more understanding than most. It turns out that Klara had herself been an unwed mother. She gave birth to Anna in 1896, three years before she married Ole. In the church records from Ringsaker Parish, Anna is labeled “Uægte” and the father’s name is listed as Johan Andreasen (i.e., not Ole).
Coincidentally, the Veum family came from parishes that border Ringsaker and Veldre where the Rudes are from. Oscar’s father Erik Ingebretsen and his two brothers were born in Hamar in 1860s. The family moved to Nes Parish in the 1870s and Erik’s mother Oline Maria ran two farms there: Aarlien and Veum. She did so after the death of Erik’s father Engebret and with the help of a farmhand named Peder Hågensen, whom she married in 1881. During these years in Nes Parish, Erik must have met Berthe Thorpe, whose family lived on Helgøya, the large island in the middle of Lake Mjøsa. The couple married and left for Wisconsin in the mid-1880s.
I took a quick drive through Nes and found the Veum farm. I actually spoke to the current owner, and once I explained the connection she invited me into her home. Together we flipped through the local bygdebok (farm history) and found the relevant names. She also very kindly gave me directions to the other family farm, Aarlien.
Veum Farm in Nes, which was one of two farms owned and operated by Erik Veum’s mother, Oline Maria Pedersdatter, after the death of Erik’s father Engebret Eriksen. 
Aarlien — a second farm run by Oline Maria Pedersdatter, paternal grandmother of J. Oscar Veum Erik Veum’s wife Bertha Thorp was from a farm on Helgøya. I didn’t visit Helgøya, but I did drive down to the tip of Nes and take a look across the channel. It’s a beautiful, peaceful spot with barely any sounds but seagulls. Nes Church, consecrated in 1250, is located there in Tingnes, and that’s where
Erik and Bertha marriedmultiple family members married. [Correction made Apr 18, 2025]
The bridge to Helgøya 
Nes Kirke I provide these details for any of the descendants of my Grandpa Bob who may be curious — as I was curious. But I want to be clear about my view on these matters: this may be “family history” but it isn’t my family history. Family isn’t biology; family is who you love and who loves you in return. Sometimes you hear people say “blood is thicker than water”. I disagree. For me, family is who I choose to have as part of my life, and DNA doesn’t have anything to do with that.
But I don’t shy away from discussing my grandpa’s paternity because (a) there’s nothing to be ashamed of, and (b) the generation that worked hard to keep this information locked away is now gone. A wise man once told me, “we’re only as sick as our secrets” and my life has shown me the truth of these words time and time again.
One of the most encouraging sights I saw during my time in Gjøvik was the symbol of one of my chosen families, the flag of the LGBT community, flying proudly in the plaza next to the town hall. It flew directly across from my hotel window and reminded me that we all belong to multiple families. The common denominator of all of our families is love.
Gjøvik Rådhuset -
Meeting the Anderson-Lindalen family of Vardal
My great-grandma Elvina Anderson Smith’s father was born as Anton Andreasen Mustadeie on April 24, 1875 in Vardal, Norway to Elisa Christiansdatter (1838-1888) and Andreas Andersen (1834-1920).
Anton (Andreasen) Anderson – father of my great-grandma Elvina Anderson Smith I only have two photos of Grandpa Anton Anderson. The first is above – an enlargement of Anton from the photo I posted a few days ago (see this post). The second is below – Grandpa Anderson on his horse-drawn planter while his daughters Elvina and Nora plant tobacco. This photo was taken around 1908 when the Andersons were living on Rockdale Street in Cambridge, Wisconsin and working on local tobacco farms (here they were working on the Knud Henderson farm).
Anton Anderson with daughters Elvina and Nora; Knud Henderson farm near Cambridge, WI – about 1908 Anton and his wife Marie undoubtedly met through their siblings – Hans (Anton’s brother) and Berte (Marie’s sister) who had met and married in the US after immigrating. Anton and Marie probably met shortly after Anton immigrated in 1893. Marie and her father Alf had immigrated in 1892, just before Hans and Berte’s wedding. Hans and Berte ended up moving to Jackson County, Wisconsin. And that’s where Anton and Marie married on April 24, 1898 (Anton’s 23rd birthday). But the next year Anton and Marie decided to settle in Dane County, where Marie’s father Alf and her siblings Ingeborg, Berndt “Tobias” and Anders were living.
Vardal – where Grandpa Anton Anderson was born – is now incorporated within Gjøvik, the largest community in the area, which is located on the west side of Lake Mjøsa in Oppland. Anton’s mother, Elisa Christiansdatter, was born exactly 37 years before her son – on April 24, 1838 – to Siri Engebretsdatter (1805-1881) and Christian Johannesen Sevalseie (1810-1881). The Seval farm where Elisa grew up is just west of where she and Andreas raised their family. Elisa was one of at least four children born to Siri and Christian. Anton’s father Andreas Andersen was born on May 5, 1834, the seventh of nine children of Marte Olsdatter (b. 1791) and Anders Hansen (b. 1787). Andreas’s family worked on the lower portion of the Hage farm (“under Hage”), also located in Vardal.
Unfortunately, little is known about either of Anton’s parents, but his father Andreas Andersen lived to a ripe old age and was a well regarded small farm operator in the area. If my reading of the local bygdebok is correct, Andreas delivered the mail in Vardal for a few years and, due to conditions there at the time (1840s-50s), he felt it necessary to carry a loaded pistol when he made his rounds. In his later years, Andreas recounted a time when he was attacked on the road, but he managed to get away safely.[1]
Prior to Anton’s birth, Elisa and Andreas leased a homestead on the northern portion of the Snuggerud farm. Then for several years the family managed a section of the Mustad farm (where Anton was born) before finally moving to the Lindalen farm.* These multiple moves may indicate that Andreas and Elisa struggled to provide for their growing family. Indeed, Anton was the seventh of 10 children in total: Christian (1859), Anna Marie (1862), Syverina (1865), Hans (1867), Johanne (1870), Ole (1872), Anton (1875), Lina (1877), Mattias (1879) and Kristine (1884). The family church in those days was Vardal Kirke, built in 1801.
Family farms from west to east: Seval (purple), Snuggerud (blue), Mustad (green), Lindalen (red), and under Hage (pink); Vardal Church is circled 
This is the Lindalen farm today. Interestingly, the current residents spoke about a skirmish with the Nazis that occurred here during Norway’s occupation. A large group of locals fled up the hill behind Lindalen and were shot at by the Germans. All but two survived. 
Vardal Kirke was used as a polling place in Norway’s first national election in 1814 — the one that elected the assembly that drafted the constitution at Eidsvoll (see the bottom of this post). As with his wife Marie’s family (see this post), Anton’s family experienced major changes in the 1880s. In the middle of that decade, at least two of Anton’s siblings – his brother Hans and his sister Syverina – emigrated to Wisconsin. And in 1888 Anton’s mother Elisa died. Anton was 13 at the time. After his mother’s death, Anton’s father Andreas married Gunhild Larsdatter Lybæk, whom Anton later recalled fondly as a good stepmother to him and his younger siblings.
Anton himself left for Wisconsin when he was just shy of his 18th birthday in March of 1893. Anton’s father, stepmother and other siblings stayed behind in Norway. Traveling on his own, Anton arrived by steamship into Halifax, Nova Scotia (by way of England), which was a common entry point for Norwegian immigrants at this time. From Halifax he journeyed by rail to Wisconsin, getting to Cambridge on the first of April. In his later years, he remembered being impressed by the endless wheat fields he saw from the train window.
In Wisconsin, Anton was reunited with his brother Hans, who was living in Cambridge at the time. Anton was first employed at the Torger Thompson Farm in Utica, which became part of the University of Wisconsin Farms. It is probable that around this time Hans and Anton decided to take the last name Anderson.**
Later, another of Anton’s sisters, Lina, joined her siblings Syverina and Hans in northern Wisconsin and started a family there. As far as I know, the rest of the siblings either died young or remained in Norway.
Among those who stayed was the youngest child, Kristine, who married Olaus Olsen Presterudgjerdet. Olaus took Kristine’s last name Lindalen and they raised seven children on their farm.
Back row: Olga, Gudrun, Reidar, Klara and Thora
Front row: Ottar, Kristine, Olaus and AlfOne of those seven children was Ottar (bottom left in the photo above), who was the father of Willy Lindalen and the paternal grandfather of Gry Lindalen.
Gry is famous in our family. She first came to the US in the summer of 1992 and visited the family in Wisconsin, and then she came back in 1994-95 to work as an au pair in Milwaukee. She bonded with our branch of the family and became especially close with my great-aunt Shirley and Shirley’s children. She has since been back to the States several times. Somehow, however, Gry and I had always missed one another. We’d never met. Until now!
Meeting Gry for the first time in Gjøvik on Friday Gry and I met for lunch on Friday as soon as I arrived into town, and it was like we had known each other for years. We hit it off immediately. She took me out to lunch and then we walked down the street and she treated me to Gjøvik’s finest chocolates. What a welcome! Before I went back to my hotel, Gry and I made a plan to meet up on Sunday at 11 am. Little did I know then what kind of a day lay ahead of me.
At the Skibladner, Norway’s only paddle steamer When Gry and her father Willy picked me up on Sunday, our first stop was the “white swan of Mjøsa”, the Skibladner. This paddle steamer first set sail in 1856, and it has been going more or less continuously ever since. At the moment it’s undergoing repairs, but it typically cruises around Lake Mjøsa in the summer. These days it’s used for tourism and not serious transportation, but we can imagine that our ancestors might have actually used this ship if they ever needed to cross from Gjøvik to Hamar in the east.
Our next stop was the Gjøvik Cemetery, where we visited the graves of Willy’s parents, Selma and Ottar Lindalen.
After this we headed west — into the Vardal farmlands where our ancestors have lived for hundreds of years.
Our visit to Vardal Kirke, the Lindalen Farm, and views of other family farms: Mustad, Barlund / Seval, and Skyberg Our final stop was Willy and Helene’s lovely home in the hilly countryside northwest of Gjøvik. There a large number of Lindalen family members had gathered to meet me and have dinner together. It was overwhelming (in a good way!) to meet so many members of the family. They all spoke so highly of my great-aunt Shirley, and how good it was that she had kept in touch over the years. They’ve cherished her cards and letters. (If any of Aunt Shirley’s immediate family are reading this, will you please let her know that dozens of family members over here still think of her often?)
A large gathering of Lindalens! (Descendants of Kristine and Olaus Lindalen) Helene served a multi-course dinner that included rømmegrøt (sour cream porridge), mashed potatoes, eggs, spekkemat (cured meats), salads, fruits, flatbreads and cheeses. It was… heavenly.
The creamy mixture on the right is rømmegrøt, which is a decadent porridge of sour cream, whole milk, wheat flour, butter, salt, sour cream, butter and sour cream. And butter. And more sour cream. And then you add your own melted butter and top it off with sugar and cinnamon, of course! Afterwards you wash it down with juice (and insulin!). I actually tried my first rømmegrøt when I visited Hovden (in the mountains of northern Agder) but Helene’s homemade rømmegrøt was much better. I had to go back for a big second helping. 
Multiple forms of spekkemat — Norwegian charcuterie. It was all excellent, but I especially liked the venison sausage. 
Somehow I saved room for dessert. Many of the attendees of Sunday’s gathering contributed traditional Norwegian desserts. But my Australian husband would have been impressed by the pavlova (which has its origins Down Under)! One of the best parts of this amazing day was having the opportunity to chat with my great-grandma Elvina’s first cousin, Reidar Lindalen, who is 97. Reidar is the youngest child of Olaus and Kristine (Anton’s youngest sister). He spoke about the old days, and how his mother didn’t know her older siblings who had moved to America because at least two of them (Syverine and Hans) had moved there before she was born. Reidar also had several funny stories about his years as a bus driver. My favorite was the one about the bus load of American visitors who he drove to a local hotel. In anticipation of their arrival, the hotel manager had organized a big dance party for these Americans, only to be informed by Reidar that they weren’t big partiers — it was a bus full of ministers!
Willy, Gry, and me. And Reidar. 
As Gry drove me back to the hotel on Sunday, she stopped for one of her favorite views of Mjøsa. Last night when I got back to town, Gry stopped by and we went out for a drink. As a parting gift, she gave me the one thing she knew I didn’t want to leave Norway without — a cheese knife (ostehøvel). And it’s not just any cheese knife but the prince of cheese knives. Thank you, Gry!
As I was leaving Gjøvik this morning (Tuesday), Gry came to the hotel to see me off. We both got a little teary-eyed. I told her this and I mean it sincerely: this isn’t “goodbye”, it’s “see you later”.
Vi sees senere! I’m currently writing these words on board a ship sailing between Denmark and Sweden, on my way to Kiel, Germany. And as I’ve been watching Norway retreat into the distance this evening, I keep thinking the same thing — “see you later!”
* I may have this wrong — it may be the case that the farm referred to as “Mustadeie” in the records (meaning owned by the Mustad farm) is one and the same as Lindalen. Still working on this one!
** Hans and Anton may have chosen “Anderson” because Andersen was their father’s patronym. Both men also became sons-in-law to Alf Andersen Greibesland, who arrived with daughter Marie in 1892, and that may have had an influence. On top of this, their sister Syverina (who had immigrated to Jackson County, WI) had married a man named Anderson. Other siblings of Anton and Hans – particularly those who stayed in Norway – kept the Andreasen patronym and used the farm name Lindalen as their last name after Norway passed a law in 1923 requiring a set surname.
[1] This is based on information I found in books 2 and 3 of the Vardal bygdebok (1930). I believe the writers of that book were referring to the Andreas Andersen Lindalen who was our ancestor, but I will attempt to get confirmation on this.
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The Hansons and Helgestads of Østre Toten
My dad’s paternal grandparents were Borghild Helgestad Rude (1904-1975) and John Rude (1900-1997). The photo below was taken in May of 1975 shortly after I was born and shortly before my great-grandma Borghild died. Grandma Borghild was so weakened by illness at the time this photo was taken that she asked Grandpa John to hold me.
May 1975; at the home of John and Borghild Rude south of Rockdale, Wisconsin 
Direct ancestors of Borghild Helgestad – my paternal grandpa’s mother Grandma Borghild is the only one of my great-grandparents to have been born outside the U.S. Like her parents and her three older siblings, Borghild was born in the community of Østre Toten. She was baptised at Balke Church in July of 1904 at the time that her mother Sofie Hansdatter Kallerustad (1876-1930) was briefly living at a farm called Aurenhagen nedre (red square on the map below).
The Auren Farm, where Borghild Helgestad was born At the time of her baptism, Borghild’s father Kristian Kristiansen Helgestad (1871-1927) was working in Wisconsin and preparing for his family’s arrival in August of that year.
Østre Toten – location of family farms and churches During the late 1890s and early 1900s, the family had resided at several farms: Skramstad (1897), Øversveen (1900), Paulsrud (1901), and then Aurenhagen nedre (1904). Øvresveen and Paulsrud were part of a collection of farms called Vang (green square on the map above).
Before I left the area today, I stopped and spoke to the current owner of Vang. He showed me how to find Paulsrud, which is a tiny farm up on the hill overlooking the Vang Farm. I had to drive up a little dirt road and then walk a quarter mile through the woods. The house is now deserted.
The goats of Paulsrud!
I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if my ancestors Sophie and Kristian lived in this very house at the turn of the 20th century.The family of Borghild’s father Kristian lived and worked on one of the Helgestad farms called Gundersbakken (orange square on the map).
Charcoal drawing of Kristian Kristiansen Helgestad – father of my great-grandma Borghild Helgestad Rude 
Helgestad Farm in Østre Toten 
Helgestad Lane Grandpa Kristian (1871-1927) was the youngest of six children born to Pernille Nilsdatter Ivershus (1831-1911) and Kristian Gundersen Gundersbakken (1826-1897). Their home, Helgestad, is a collection of farms to the east of the town of Skreia in Østre Toten.
The old Skreia train station, built in 1902, is probably where Sofie and her four children began their journey to the US to join Kristian. There are actually three Helgestad Farms: Store Helgestad vestre (Big Helgestad west), Store Helgestad østre (Big Helgestad east) and Lille Helgestad (Small Helgestad). Gundersbakken was a sub-farm (bruk) of Store Helgestad vestre and lay opposite the bruk called Pederrudbakken. Grandpa Kristian’s father – Kristian Gundersen – also grew up on Gundersbakken. The farm was discontinued prior to 1930.[1]
Like his first four children, my great-great grandpa Kristian Kristiansen Helgestad was baptised at Balke Church (orange circle on the map). Balke Church was built in the Middle Ages – around 1170 – but had significant changes made in the early 18th century.
Balke Kirke My great-grandma Borghild’s mother Sofie was baptised at Hoff Church (blue circle on the map at the top of this post) when her parents were working the Kallerustad Farm (blue square).
Photo of Sofie Hansdatter Kallerustad – mother of my great-grandma Borghild Helgestad Rude 
The view of Mjøsa from Kallerustad 
Images of the beautiful Hoff Kirke — consecrated circa 1150 Grandma Sofie was the fifth of nine children born to Berte Helene Johannesdatter (1846-1917) and Hans Kristiansen (1844-1907). By the time she left for Wisconsin, many of her aunts, uncles and cousins had already established themselves there. Her youngest sibling (and only brother) Hans Christian immigrated as well. Hans fought for the US in the First World War and lived in Milwaukee. He died in 1927 and is buried near his sister Sofie at East Koshkonong Cemetery south of Cambridge.*
To my knowledge, however, most of Sofie’s siblings stayed in Norway. One of the siblings who stayed was the eldest, Johanne Augusta (1867-1945), who married Martin Syversen (1855-1932). Johanne and Martin had eight children, including Helene Syversen Iversbakken (1901-1986).
My grandpa Bob Rude’s cousin, Judi Horn Winch, made contact with this branch of the family a few years ago and introduced me to Helene’s granddaughter (the daughter of Helene’s son Johan) — Hilde Iversbakken. Yesterday, Hilde and her family of four graciously welcomed me, my Aunt Cathe, and my cousin Bethany and her family to their home in Kapp. They served us a delicious lunch and gave us a wonderful family history tour of the area, with visits to Hoff Church, Totenvika Church, Balke Church, and several family farms. We also had the opportunity to meet Hilde’s charming mother Svanhild Iversbakken and Hilde’s brother and sister-in-law, Alf Helge and Ida Pauline Iversbakken, and their four delightful children.
From left to right: Alexa Sparks (Bethany’s daughter), Bethany Lo Presti (my 1st cousin / Cathe’s daughter) and her son Xavier Lo Presti, me, Kathinka Hansen (Hilde’s daughter), Hilde Iversbakken, Cathe Engler (my aunt), Kristian Hansen (Hilde’s son), Josefine Hansen (Hilde’s daughter), and Jack Lo Presti (Bethany’s husband).
(Not pictured are Hilde’s daughter Mathilde who was in Italy and Mathilde’s boyfriend Raymond, who took this photo).
Meeting of Hilde’s family, her brother’s family, and our family at the Helgestad Farm 
What a spread! It was so much fun to finally meet Hilde and her family after several months of messages back and forth. Now I’m looking forward to returning the favor and hosting our Norwegian family in the U.S. one day.
And I have to add that watching Bethany’s son Xavier playing with Hilde and Alf Helge’s children gave me hope that there will be another generation that will keep these family connections alive.
The next generation! From left: Ellinor Iversbakken, Josefine Hansen, Kathinka Hansen, Ebba Iversbakken, Kristian Hansen, Dagny Iversbakken, Xavier Lo Presti, and Johan Iversbakken 
Svanhild and Hilde Iversbakken at Svanhild’s beautifully furnished home in Sletta
* Because Hans took the last name Hanson in the US, I often refer to Sofie’s branch of the family as “the Hansons”. But surnames for the 9 siblings were all over the map. If you’d like to understand Norwegian naming conventions better, I highly recommend checking out this post by my friend (and professional genealogist) David Hovick Lohman: https://hovicklohmanhistory.wordpress.com/2021/03/07/norwegian-cultural-background/
[1] Information on Kristian and Sofie’s family farms comes from Ødegaard, Svein-Erik. 1984. Totenvika, p. 350 and 471.
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The Rudes – an origin story
My dad’s paternal grandfather, John Rude (1900-1997), was born in the U.S. – but only barely. He was actually conceived in Norway and born in Wisconsin five months after his parents and older sister Anna arrived in Wisconsin from Olso by way of Liverpool, England and New York City.
Grandpa John’s parents were Ole Johannesen Rude (1874-1939) and Klara Hansdatter Bokrudstad (1876-1952), and they were both from the Ringsaker area on the north side of Lake Mjøsa in Hedmark. Ole had been working in the tobacco harvests in Wisconsin since 1896 and came back to Norway in 1899 to marry Klara and arrange for her and Anna to join him in Wisconsin.
My great-grandpa John Rude and me, circa 1976, in Edgerton, Wisconsin The photo below was taken shortly before their departure from Oslo (then called Kristiania). Ole is standing at the left, with Klara and Anna seated. I’m not sure who the man with the bandaged arm is (at right). Perhaps Klara’s younger brother Nils? Or Ole’s younger brother Jørgen (who took over the Roterud farm)?
Ole, Klara, daughter Anna and unknown man in Oslo, 1900 When Ole was born, his family worked on the Sigstad Farm. In 1882, Ole’s father Johannes Christiansen (1843-1927) purchased Roterud, a farm located on the edge of the town of Byflaten. The family attended Veldre Church, which is only a couple of miles from the farm.
Veldre Kirke in Byflaten 
The Roterud Farm, near Byflaten. I spoke to one of the current residents, and it is very much still a working farm. 
The view of Lake Mjøsa from Roterud Ole’s father Johannes was originally from the Ellefsæterbakken farm. Ole’s mother Anne Olsdatter (1841-1933) was originally from the Kristensveen Farm, which is also in the Veldre area. Anne’s father Ole Andersen (1812-1894) was born on Grinieie Farm, and her mother Johanne Tollefsdatter (1810-1896) was from Altona Farm near Lismarka.[1]
Family farms and churches in Ringsaker/Veldre parishes: Åsmarka Church circled in white, Veldre Church circled in black; Altona = purple square, Bokrudstad = green square, Ellevsæterbakken = red square, Kristensveen = blue square, Grinieie = orange square, Roterud = pink square 
Direct ancestors of my great-grandpa John Rude On September 15, 1899, Ole and Klara married at Åsmarka Church, which was fairly close to where Klara’s family was living at the Bokrudstad farm.
Åsmarka Kirke — a beautiful octagonal chapel which I was able to see today 
Bokrudstad Farm, just to the southeast of Næroset The next month they left for Wisconsin where Ole had been working. To my knowledge, Ole and Klara were the only children in their families to emigrate – a surprising fact given how common emigration was at the time and given how many siblings they had collectively (Ole was one of four, Klara was one of 13).
Ole Johannesen Ruud / Rude 
Klara Hansdatter Bokrudstad Rude On coming to the U.S., Ole simplified his farm name Roterud as “Rud” or sometimes “Ruud”. But the story goes that the family was getting their mail mixed up with another Ole Ruud family, so they changed it to Rude. Oh, what a fateful decision for those of us born with this name!
The eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son of Ole Roterud Some of the descendants of Klara’s brother Simen Bokrudstad invited me to join them for a backyard barbecue in Næroset this afternoon. Anne Marie Skaugen is Simen’s great-granddaughter*, and she and her husband Aksel Harby run the grocery and bakery in Næroset that has been in the Harby family for 102 years. It was delightful to meet them, and the food they served us was incredible.
Not coincidentally — because we’d planned this for months — I met up with five of my family members from Wisconsin at this gathering: my dad’s sister Cathe, her daughter Bethany, Bethany’s husband Jack, their son Xavi and Bethany’s daughter Lexi. It was a special evening, and one I’ll never forget.
A gathering of Bokrudstad family members in Næroset — including six of us from Wisconsin! 
Aksel Harby sets out the food on the back of his 1950s pickup 
One of the treats of the event was when Kristian — Aksel and Anne Marie’s son, who runs the bakery — brought us out some pultost to try. Pultost is a fermented cheese with caraway seeds and has a… “distinctive” flavor.
[1] This information comes from the Veldre bygdebok, 1974.
* This makes Anne Marie a third cousin to my dad.
Anne Marie and Aksel also took us to see the family plot at Åsmarka Church.
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Mjøsa
Ancestors on both my mother and father’s sides have lived around Mjøsa – Norway’s largest lake – for hundreds (if not thousands) of years.
View of Lake Mjøsa from Auren Farm, where my great-grandma Borghild Helgestad Rude was born Mjøsa is massive – from end to end 73 miles (117 km). And at its deepest point, it’s nearly 1,500 feet (450 m). The lake is the dividing line between two traditional regions in Norway: Oppland on the west and Hedmark on the east. As of 2020, the two have been merged into the newly minted county of Innlandet. Technically, Innlandet is Norway’s only landlocked county, but in the years before railways, Mjøsa and its connecting rivers served as the region’s link to Oslo and the sea.
Over the next couple days I’ll be visiting the towns around Mjøsa where my ancestors lived, but before I do that, I thought a quick orientation to the area might be helpful.
For any of you related to me through my mother’s side – specifically my mother’s father’s side – the relevant location is the countryside west of Gjøvik. Using a yellow circle on the map below I’ve marked the approximate location of our family’s origins in Vardal Parish. Vardal is where my great-grandma Elvina Anderson Smith’s father Anton (Andreasen) Anderson came from.
For any of you related to me through my father’s father’s side, there are multiple relevant locations. The red circle at the top of the map indicates the general area in Ringsaker Parish where my paternal grandfather’s paternal grandparents, Ole Johannesen (Roterud) Rude and Klara Hansdatter Bokrudstad, came from: Veldre and Ringsaker. The green circle at the bottom of the map marks the place where my paternal grandfather’s mother’s family originated — Østre Toten. And the blue circles indicate roughly where my paternal grandfather’s biological father’s family came from in Nes, Hamar, Løten and Elverum.
Eidsvollsbygningen — near the southern end of Lake Mjøsa — is where Norwegians ratified their constitution on May 17, 1814. -
Live from Oslo – a photo update
I am taking a little detour (again) from family history to share a few sights with you. Greetings from Oslo!
This first photo is from the suburb of Sandvika, just south of Oslo. Behind me is Løkke Bridge, which was the subject of an 1895 painting of Monet’s that I like. If you go to the homepage of my blog, you’ll see the painting. The original hangs in one of my favorite places — the Art Institute of Chicago.
The next few photos are from a special art and history exhibit at Roseslottet (Rose Castle) at Frognerseteren in Oslo. Big thanks to Morten and Linda Kittelsen (the family I visited in Øvrebø) for recommending this!
The exhibit is a deeply moving outdoor installation of paintings and sculpture that documents the resistance to the Nazis in Norway, the expulsion of Norway’s Jews, and the conditions for soldiers and ordinary people during the War. If you like to learn more, visit this site: https://roseslottet.no/en/visjonen/
Finally, I’m sharing a few scenes from around the Oslo city center — including a photo of me having a nonalcoholic beer at the London Pub. I visited this bar 10 years ago when we came to Norway the first time. Sadly, a shooting occurred here two weeks ago, which killed two and injured 21 people. The attack is being investigated as a hate crime by the police. The London Pub is a fixture in the gay community in Oslo, and the shooting sent a shockwave around the world. It also led to the canceling of gay pride festivities in Oslo this year.
London Pub – still going strong -
Echoes of home: visiting Greibesland and the Øvrebø Church
(This post is a continuation from yesterday’s post about the Greibesland family of Øvrebø in Southern Norway.)
Back in June, I wrote about having a sense of place, a sense of origin. And even though my family left Wisconsin when I was five years old (and even though I have no plans to live there again), my parents’ hometowns have always evoked a sense of home for me. That sense has been a fixed star in a life marked by periodic wanderings. In a way, that strong sense of place has enabled all of this uprooting because no matter where I go I find that certain deep roots stay firmly planted.
The area around Vennesla and Øvrebø – like Ulvik – stirs in me a sense of having been here before. Totally new and strange to me and yet eerily familiar. “To belong” in Norwegian is «å høre hjem», which literally means “to hear home.” I can’t say I hear home here but there are definitely echoes. Maybe it’s from seeing these hills in family photos over the years, or maybe it has something to do with the fact that our family has been farming these hills since the beginning of recorded history. That sounds like an exaggeration, but we can trace certain branches of our family tree here back to the 1400s.
Part of the Greibesland farm — what is now a separate farm called Fureneset — as it looked around the turn of the 20th century. This photo was kept by my ancestors in the U.S. as a reminder of their home. I don’t have the time or space here to take us that far back. But how about the 1700s? Buckle up.
My great-great grandmother Marie’s father was Alf Andersen Greibesland (1820-ca. 1902). As I explained in yesterday’s post, Marie and Alf immigrated in 1892. Alf was 72 then and his wife Gunvor Andersdatter Spikkeland had died two years earlier. Alf had grown up on Bruk 3 of the Greibesland farm (the “Vollan” farmstead), which had been the family farm of Alf’s father’s first wife, Targjerd Torjesdatter Greibesland (1798-1813). Alf’s father, Anders Olsen Greibesland (1770-1852) was the youngest of eight children who grew up on Bruk 8 of Greibesland (called “Haugen”). But Anders spent most of his adult life on Vollan. He raised seven children there with Targjerd, and after her death he raised four more with Ingeborg Alvsdatter Hægeland (1792-1872). Alf was the first child of this second marriage. Two years before he died in 1852, Anders sold Vollan to Alf’s younger brother Nils, and in 1853 Alf purchased Greibesland’s Bruk 10 (“Bakken”) from a man named Jens Nilsson.[1]
Direct ancestors of Elvina Anderson Smith On the Bakken homestead Alf and Gunvor raised their seven children: Ingeborg (1853), Andreas (1856), Anders (1858), Christian (1860), Berndt “Tobias” (1862), Berte (1865), and my ancestor Marie (1867). As Alf left for the U.S., he transferred ownership of the farm to his oldest son Andreas who was returning from working in tobacco in Wisconsin. And it has remained in the family to this day. I had the privilege of visiting the farm on Wednesday.
Compare this image to the one above — the buildings are gone, but yes, this is indeed the same place! 
Side view of the barn at Bakken 
Torunn and Alf welcomed us to the farm with fresh strawberries and ice cream Alf Greibesland — one of Albert Greibesland’s sons — still lives on the Bakken farm at Greibesland. He’s currently involved in a number of projects around the farm, including rebuilding a bridge that crosses the creek at the back of the property where there used to be an old saw mill.
Alf shows us the mill stone that came from the old mill on the back of the property I was pretty intrigued by the idea of an old saw mill on the back of the property because I had read in the Øvrebø bygdebok (local farm history) that one of our ancestors had owned a lumber mill. This mill could be one and the same. Walking around the “back 40” at Greibesland definitely made me feel like I was walking back in time.
The waterfall at Greibesland where there once was a mill 
The mill gears are still there! 
Tromping through the woods at Greibesland with my distant cousins Kjell Inge and Roger Larsen (and Roger’s dogs!) 
The lake at Greibesland — Greibeslandsvannet Similarly, on Thursday, Linda Kittelsen and her daughters Stine and Sina (my 4th cousins) took a drive with me over to the Øvrebø Church — an important place in the life of our family here for hundreds of years. This was the church where my ancestor Marie and her siblings, her father Alf, and so many other family members were baptized and confirmed. The church building that stands here today was built in 1800, twenty years before Alf’s birth. Linda had arranged for one of the church leaders to come open up the church for us and to give us a tour.
The Øvrebø Church 
From left: me, Stine, Sina and Linda 
The altarpiece at Øvrebø Kirke — carved in 1626 — comes from the prior church and was brought in when the “new” church was built in 1800. Our guide was Marielle Bjerland Lindekleiv, the church’s Sunday School teacher, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Øvrebø Kirke’s history. And it’s plain to see that she has a great love for this old church. Marielle said that she often stops and imagines how many important moments have occurred within these walls: joyous, sad, and everything in between. The Øvrebø Church has been witness to so much emotion over its 222 year history. And even though the church’s position in the daily life of the people here has changed, I suspect that this church will always be a place where people want to come to share those important moments.
Marielle next to the chairs that her ancestors donated to the church. These chairs are used in wedding ceremonies for the bride and groom to sit in.
[1] Information on the Greibesland branch of the family and the family farms comes from the Øvrebø bygdebok (1951).
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A reunion with the Greibeslands
Fort Atkinson, circa 1978: Elvina Anderson Smith stands with her daughters Shirley Smith Stork and Ruth Smith Kluge; seated: Elvina’s son Eugene Smith and (at lower left) her great-grandson Jesse Rude My grandpa Eugene Smith’s mother, Elvina Anderson Smith (1898-1983), was born in Wisconsin to Norwegian immigrants Marie Alfsdatter Greibesland (1867-1950) and Anton Andreasen (1875-1931). Elvina never visited Norway, but she felt a close connection to her parents’ homeland. In her later years she jotted down notes about the family’s history and passed those along to her children. One of those children, my great-aunt Shirley Smith Stork, faithfully preserved those notes and added volumes of her own. Both she and her brother Eugene (my mom’s dad) made separate trips to Norway in the late 1970s and early 1980s and reestablished ties with the descendants of their mother’s uncle Andreas Alfsen Greibesland (1856-1940).
Andreas was the uncle who went back. By the time my great-great grandmother Marie and her father Alf arrived by boat into New York in November of 1892, all six of Marie’s siblings had established themselves in the United States. However, the eldest son, Andreas, decided to return to Norway and work the family farm in Øvrebø – a small community just north of Kristiansand in what is now the fylke of Agder.
Direct ancestors of my great-grandma Elvina Anderson Smith (mother of my maternal grandpa Eugene Smith) Greibesland family portrait, 1890s: top row, from left are Berte, Berndt “Tobias”, Marie (my ancestor), Christian and Ingeborg;
bottom from left are Anders, father Alf and AndreasAndreas’s eldest son Albert Greibesland visited his Wisconsin relatives in 1929. In the photo below, Albert is the third man from left in the top row. Incidentally, this is one of the few photos we have of Marie’s husband Anton (my great-great grandfather). Anton is the second man from the right in the top row.
Back row (from left): Everett Anderson (Marie & Anton’s son), Hans Anderson (Berte’s husband/Anton’s brother), Albert Greibesland (Andreas’s son, visiting from Norway), Sigurd Greibesland (also from Norway), Frank Smith (Elvina’s husband), Adolph Petry (Ingeborg’s son-in-law/Anna’s husband), Anton Anderson (Marie’s husband/Elvina’s father), Andrew Alfson (Marie’s brother)
Front row (from left): John Johnson (Hans and Berte’s son-in-law/Gena’s husband), William Frey (Marie and Anton’s son-in-law/Nora’s husband), Hensel Johnson (Gena & John’s son), Robert Petry (Anna & Adolph’s son), Alfred Anderson (Marie & Anton’s son), William Anderson (Marie & Anton’s son)Albert’s daughter Halldis Greibesland Larsen also took a keen interest in family history, and hosted my grandparents Eugene and Phyllis when they visited Norway in 1979.
Visit to Norway in 1979; at the gravesite of Albert Greibesland at Øvrebø Church; from left are Eugene Smith (my maternal grandpa), Torbjørg Røyseland Greibesland (Albert’s wife), Halldis Greibesland Larsen (Albert & Torbjørg’s daughter), Alf Greibesland (Albert & Torbjørg’s son), and Phyllis Reiner Smith (my maternal grandma) Two years later, Halldis and her husband Reidar Larsen visited the U.S., staying with my grandparents in Wisconsin as well as my immediate family (then living in Syracuse, Indiana).
At the home of Elvina Anderson Smith in Fort Atkinson, WI, 1981: from left are Halldis Greibesland Larsen, Reidar Larsen, Eugene Smith, Manda Anderson Frey (Elvina’s sister), and Elvina Anderson Smith And two years after this, my grandpa’s sister Shirley Smith Stork and her cousin Lois Frey Febock (daughter of Elvina’s sister Nora Anderson Frey) made the trek to Kristiansand and the Greibesland family farm in Øvrebø.
Lois Frey Febock (my grandpa’s cousin) and Shirley Smith Stork (my grandpa’s sister) in front of the Kristiansand train station, 1983 Aunt Shirley set me up as a penpal with Halldis and Reidar Larsen’s oldest son, Kjell Inge, and we exchanged a letter or two in those years. I was nine or ten years old at the time.
Here’s a letter I received from Kjell Inge:
My grandparents’ and great-aunt’s trips, the visitors from Norway, and then this correspondence with a distant cousin – it’s hard to describe the impact they had on me as a boy. My mind expanded to encompass a wider world, a world that extended beyond my little spot on the planet and beyond my brief time on it. I knew that one day I’d go meet those Norwegian relatives, and finally – almost 40 years later – that day has come.
From left: me, Linda Kittelsen (3rd cousin to my mom) and Sina and Stine (my 4th cousins) On Wednesday, the Kittelsen family welcomed me into their home with freshly made waffles and showed me the best way to eat one — butter, jam and a healthy helping of brunost — brown cheese. Linda Kittelsen is Kjell Inge’s sister (daughter of Halldis and Reidar).
Sadly, Halldis passed away in 2007, but her husband Reidar continues to reside at the Larsens’ home in Øvrebø. As you can see in the photo below, I finally got to meet my pen pal Kjell Inge at Reidar’s place.
At the home of Reidar Larsen and Lilian Hammen. From left: me, Linda Kittelsen, Kjell Inge Larsen (my old pen pal!), Reidar’s partner Lilian, and Reidar Larsen And it was a special treat to visit the Greibesland family farm, which is where Alf (Halldis’s brother) and his partner Torunn live today. Alf had many old photos and memories of the family that he shared with us.
From left: Roger (Linda’s twin brother), Alf Greibesland (Halldis’s brother), Torunn (Alf’s partner), Linda Kittelsen, and Kjell Inge Larsen But the biggest reunion of all came today (Thursday). Linda coordinated a huge gathering of Greibesland family members at a community center in Øvrebø. I didn’t count how many family members turned up, but I think it was about 30. Linda and some of the other family members prepared a huge assortment of Norwegian delicacies — salads, mains and desserts — and everything was delicious.
An incredible feast! Pictured from left to right are Torunn (Alf’s partner), Henrietta (Roger’s daughter), Stine (Linda’s daughter), Frida (Roger’s daughter), June and Sina (Linda’s daughters), and Linda 
So many relatives!! 
Lilian (Reidar Larsen’s partner) is putting out some traditional Norwegian desserts. (The bowl of Hershey’s Kisses was my meager contribution!) My great-great grandma Marie Alfsdatter Greibesland arrived in America 130 years ago. It was so important to her daughter, my great-grandma Elvina Anderson Smith, that the family connections be maintained. And I’m proud to report that those connections are still alive, still going strong. Thanks to people like my great-aunt Shirley and her second cousin here in Norway, Halldis Larsen (and today Halldis’s daughter Linda Kittelsen), our families are staying in contact.
When I had a chance to walk around the room and meet everyone and explain who I was, there were a couple of comments like, “Oh, that’s actually not so distant.” And it’s true. 130 years might sound like a long time, but it’s only about 5 generations. And the older I get, the more I realize how quickly 5 generations can pass.
Even though I don’t plan on having children, it’s my hope that the next generation in our families will get to know each other and keep these connections alive. I’d like for my 4th cousins in Norway and my nieces and cousins’ children in the U.S. to know that they have a huge and very loving extended family on both sides of the Atlantic. When they experience that — like I’ve just experienced these past two days — the world feels a lot smaller.
The Kittelsen family — my incredibly generous and hospitable hosts over the past 2 days (from left): Stine, Sina, Linda, Morten and June -
“Proceed to the route”: a detour from family history
“Well, the Earth Mark Two in fact,” said Slartibartfast cheerfully. “We’re making a copy from our original blueprints.” There was a pause. “Are you trying to tell me,” said Arthur, slowly and with control, “that you originally…made the Earth?” “Oh yes,” said Slartibartfast. “Did you ever go to a place…I think it was called Norway?” “No,” said Arthur, “no, I didn’t.” “Pity,” said Slartibartfast, “that was one of mine. Won an award, you know. Lovely crinkly edges. I was most upset to hear of its destruction.”
From The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas AdamsI thought taking a solo road trip would exempt me from bickering in the car. Wrong! Siri and I are barely speaking now. By “Siri”, I’m referring to my iPhone’s GPS system, who persistently reminded me to “proceed to the route.” But I wouldn’t. I mean, I would… eventually. I kept taking detours; I couldn’t help myself. And can you blame me?
Whoever wrote “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls” never visited Låtefossen I’m currently in Hovden — a stop on the way to my next destination in southern Norway. My “three and a half-hour” drive here from Ulvik took about double that time because of my inability to stay on the path. But I don’t regret a single detour.
Ståvatn lake on the border between Vestland and Vestfold og Telemark. Norway is, by most reckonings, a small country. I’m still on speaking terms with Google, who says that Norway ranks 62nd in terms of land mass. But looks can be deceiving. My map sure was. Maps are two dimensional and don’t account for elevation — the “lovely crinkly edges”. And Norway is very crinkly.
For example, check out this road…
It seems to turn back on itself because I was hurtling down a mountain. And by down, I really mean “down and through” because most of this loopy road was tunnel. Oh, that’s the other thing maps don’t tell you — the extent to which Norwegian mountain roads are underground.
After going through roughly a hundred tunnels and at least a hundred roundabouts (Norwegian road planners love roundabouts, apparently), Norway decided I was ready for my first tunnel roundabout. (!)
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! At first the tunnels freaked me out… until I realized that at least in the tunnels I rarely met the dreaded “road narrows” sign. The key word in that last sentence is “rarely”. I’ve now learned that there are a few tunnels here with two-way traffic on what would pass for a bike path in America. When you meet another car on a road like this — say, in a dark twisty tunnel or on the steep ledge of a windy fjord — you do your best to find a bulge in the pavement and squeeze by one another. And when you meet a camper van, motor home or big rig truck, you do the same — and pray.
Speaking of prayer, my second-favorite detour today was visiting the Røldal stavkirke. Built in about 1275, the church has a magical quality. The crucifix hanging above the nave is associated with a large number of miracles.
The interior of the stavkirke at Røldal 
Røldal’s exterior But my favorite detour of the day has to be Odda — the charming town at the end of a long, narrow road along the fjord, where I was able to buy weather-appropriate footwear.
Three cheers for dry feet! Now, at this point you must be wondering how that can be better than all of the waterfalls, mountains, fjords, churches, etc. But, dear reader, you have no idea. I’ve been going through four pairs of socks a day since Saturday.
Nobody warned me about this aspect of travel in Norway
Deep Roots
Reflections on family history, identity and geography
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Deep Roots 