Norway, Days 6 and 7

On Day 6, we started our excursions outside of the Oslo area.  We were to stay with a high school friend of my father's, and it ended up being really nice.  They don't live too far from the Fredrikstad area, so it was logical to move from my uncle's house for a few days.  But first, we went to Kongsberg, in the county of Buskerud, to visit some relatives there and follow the trail of my gg-grandfather, Emil Georg Samuelsen Haugen.  This means I am following the family history line on my paternal grandfather's side.

The altar and organ in the famous Kongsberg church

A typical street in Kongsberg

Kongsberg was founded in 1624, after silver was discovered in the hills. The Danish-Norwegian king recruited German miners to the mines. Silver is no longer mined there, and it has become a high-tech center of Norway.  The town has some quaint-looking streets and a baroque-style Lutheran church that is very much worth a visit.  It was truly impressive.  Someone was playing the rare and beautiful organ when we arrived, which lent the place even more atmosphere.  The church was built with a hierchiacal system: the king had his own box, the silver mine nobility and administrators had their boxes, and the miners sat upstairs on hard, wooden benches.  Keep in mind that they had worked hard all week and now had to sit through a three hour sermon.  If someone fell asleep, an usher with a long stick would reach into the pews and poke him.

The main reason to visit Kongsberg, though, was to see my grandfather's cousin and her daughter's family.  We were welcomed to the daughter's home, and I also found there another relation I had met over the internet.  His great-grandmother is my ggg-grandmother, and we have shared a lot of information with each other.  My grandfather's cousin, unfortunately, could not be there, but her daughter left a note and gift for me.  The gift was my gg-grandfather Emil's songbook and a notebook he had written his thoughts on regarding Bible study.  It was so wonderful to see his beautiful handwriting.  I don't believe he was overly educated, yet his penmanship was perfect.  I commented on his writing, and I was told a story about his father, Samuel -- he couldn't afford the appropriate writing materials and learned to write in the dirt and saw dust with a stick.  Amazing!  After this, we were led inside to see my ggg-grandfather Samuel's sea chest.  Again, this would be the father of the man I just described who had beautiful penmanship.  My ggg-grandfather had gone out to sea, in 1875, when my gg-grandfather was a young boy, and had an accident that killed him.  His sea chest returned to his wife and my gg-grandfather, who was 4 at the time. 

The chest was absolutely gorgeous!  It was made of solid wood and painted green.  On the inside of the lid were the union flags of Sweden and Norway, since the two countries were a union at the time.  My ggg-grandfather's name is inscribed and the date of 1861.  What can I say?  It was so beautiful to see I was nearly speechless.  The only thing wrong with it was that it wasn't mine (ha ha).  But I am very glad that it is kept in the family and taken care of. 

My ggg-grandfather Samuel Andreasen's sea chest.  He was born in 1841 and died at sea in 1875.  Below, you can see the flags of the Swedish and Norwegian union and my ggg-grandfather's name and the year, 1861.

My gg-grandparents' grave in Kongsberg

We were also taken to the cemetery to see the graves of my gg-grandfather Emil and gg-grandmother Hanna.  It was so nice to see it still exists, although the cemetery is quite old and a lot of tech companies have been built around it.  We took a few pictures of the headstone before heading to the location of their house.  Apparently, when my gg-grandfather died (he died after his wife), the landowner destroyed the home and sawmill that was there.  However, nothing else was built in its place, so I could still find bits of concrete on the ground.  It was a nice location, not far from the river.  My father, who was lucky to know Emil (g-grandfather to him) until he was about 16 years old, remembered the place very well. 

After some coffee and sweets with my Kongsberg relatives, we said good-bye and headed out to Ås, where my father's friend lives and the place we were sleeping at for the next few nights.  On the way, we stopped by Åsgårdstrand, which is where Norway's most famous painter, Edvard Munch, lived during the summers and painted some of his most famous work.  The town was very picturesque and lovely.  Unfortunately, the painter's house was not open for tourists on that day, but I saw it once in 1988.  One cute feature of the town was the mailboxes with his works painted on them.

Edvard Munch's summer cottage.  Below, some typical scenes in Åsgårdstrand.

Old town Fredrikstad -- 5 stars!!

On Day 7, my father woke up not feeling very well, so I set out with my son and father's friend to meet my father's cousins and my uncle in the old town of Fredrikstad.  The old fortified town is really lovely, and I have a gggg-grandfather who served there. My grandfather served there as well during the early 1930s.  Fredrikstad may be Europe's best preserved fortified town, and it is in Østfold County and was founded in 1567 by King Frederik II.  The city lies on the banks of the river Glomma.  Fredrikstad once had a large sawmill industry and was important for timber export and shipbuilding.  Most of my ancestors from this area worked in these fields. 

After visiting the old town, we headed for the first Methodist church built in Fredrikstad circa 1868.  I was meeting an historian there, who very kindly offered to show me the church and some records.  I have blogged before about finding dissenters among my ancestors -- people who left the Lutheran church.  In this case, my ggg-grandparents, Oleane Jakobsdatter and Samuel Andreasen, both joined the Methodist church in February of 1871 and baptized my gg-grandfather, Emil, there in September of 1871.  This event was one of my early family history brick walls I managed to break down. 

This is just part of my ggg-grandfather's death record.
It says he drowned at sea.

The church had been renovated on the inside, but it was still the same church on the outside.  Inside, there was a wall of pictures of all the pastors since the beginning -- one of them being the one who baptized Oleane, Samuel, and their son Emil into the church.  I was also finally able to see the death record for my ggg-grandfather Samuel, since most Methodist records are not available online.  The story from my gg-grandfather was that his father had fallen off the ship's mast after climbing it to fix the sails and was killed instantly.  The Methodist record said he had died on June 3rd, 1875 by drowning at sea.  I believe this probably indicated he was buried at sea, but it could be that my gg-grandfather's story was incorrect.  I hoped I could find his seaman record at the archives in Oslo in a few days.  I will let you know what I found when I post for that day!

After the nice visit at the Methodist church, we were invited back to my father's cousin's house where she served us her "ancestry soup."  It was a beef stew -- a traditional Norwegian dish --  and it was really delicious.  Her brother had brought a lot of old pictures of ancestors and some items to see.  He showed me my gg-grandfather's walking stick, which had a silver plated engraving of his name on it.  There were also two old Bible-study books that had belonged to my gg-grandfather, and he kindly gave those to me!  As for all the old pictures, they were scanned.  They are a true treasure as they include pictures of ggg-grandparents for me.  One of my favorite goals in my family history research is to find pictures of the people I study.  So this was all very special to me.

My gg-grandfather's walking cane!

Finally, we said goodbye and planned our next venture for two days from then.  My father's friend then took us to see the Hvaler islands before heading back to his home and some much-needed rest. 

Stay tuned for Day 8 and 9!

Norway, Days 4 and 5

On day 4, I woke up to the sound of the Lomma River that flows in front of what once was my grandparents’ home – also known as Lommeli. It is a soothing sound – faithful and strong. That’s how I hear it, anyway. Every day they have forecasted rain, but we have been pretty lucky. It has generally been partly cloudy skies and the occasional sprinkle since we arrived. The temperature fluctuates in the high 60’s and low 70s, but it has felt a lot warmer at times, especially when the sun is shining. It hasn’t been very windy, so this has contributed to it not feeling as cool as the thermostat says. Also, the low temperature during the night is only about 10 degrees F less than the high. Where I come from in the U.S. there is a lot of difference between day and night temperatures.

I was rather excited on this morning because it was the day I would be meeting some descendants of a common ancestor. I had found descendants of a great-uncle who had gone to Canada, and they had maintained contact with the family of my great-uncle’s sister. Both of them are siblings to my great-grandfather Kristian Olausen Jordbaerhaugen. So, strangely enough, through Canada, we met this branch of family in Norway. As it turns out, they knew my grandparents quite well.

I spent most of the day preparing for my meeting with them by creating a large poster of a pedigree starting with my great-grandfather’s sister, Margit Olausen Jordbaerhaugen who had married Helge Hansen Bakken. I also gathered some documents this branch may be interested in, such as birth, confirmation, and marriage records for my great-great grandparents and their daughter, Margit, from whom they descend.

Margit Olausen Jordbaerhaugen Bakken, born in 1895

When we arrived at Sleasjulet, as the farmhouse is called, the family came out to greet us. There was my great-aunt’s son and his wife and daughter, and he had also invited his two brothers and their wives for the event. The oldest brother was born around 1921, and they were so kind and happy to meet with us. I should say that their mother Margit was the next-to-last child of my great-great grandparents. Whereas my great-grandfather was born around 1878, his sister Margit was born in 1895.

We met with descendants of my great-grandfather's sister, Margit
Olausen Jordbaerhaugen Bakken

Inside the house, we sat to a wonderful Scandinavian coffee-time display. There were the typical open-face sandwiches, beautifully put together. Unfortunately, I only remembered to take a picture of the tray after sandwiches had been picked. There were several wonderful cakes, too, and coffee, of course! We talked about several things, but we then started to compare family history notes. One interesting event is the connection I was able to make for them to Salt Lake City. From Margit, they had inherited a photo album, and in the album was a picture of three children that had been taken in Salt Lake City. They had had no idea where it came from, but through my research I had discovered that my great-great grandmother (mother to their Margit) had three siblings and her own mother convert to Mormonism and go to Salt Lake City. The picture of the three children matched another I had that must have been taken on the same day because the clothing and props were the same; but the picture I had acquired from a descendant in Salt Lake City included the children’s parents Martin Christopherson and Jennet Ledingham. The three children in the picture located here in Norway were Janet, Martin Einor, and Willard. The family picture from SLC also included the baby George, so I was able to date the picture to about 1886. This was extremely exciting. I believe that Martin must have sent it to his sister, Jonette, my gg-grandmother, or perhaps he gave her the picture personally during a visit on one of his missions to Norway. Her daughter Margit ended up with the picture, but the story of her uncles, an aunt, and her own grandmother in Utah got lost with her descendants.

The picture belonging to Margit's descendants in Norway: Martin Einor, Janet Jessie, and Willard Alexander Christopherson --
children of Martin Christopherson in Salt Lake City.

Below is the picture I obtained from a descendant of Martin Christopherson in Salt Lake City.  The photographer and props are the same.  I believe the photos were taken on the same day.  In the photo: Janet, Martin (father), Willard, Martin Einor, Janet (mother), and George.  Judging by the baby's age, the photos were taken in 1886.

The Bakken family had several other old pictures I was interested in, and so I was able to get scans of all of them as well. Afterward, we talked some more and looked at the pedigree we had brought to their home and then said goodbye. We had a lovely time!

The 800 year old Tanum church in Baerum, where many
of my ancestors were baptized, confirmed, and married... 

On Day 5, we went to visit the old Tanum Church, which was built about 800 years ago and where many of my ancestors were baptized, confirmed, and married. The church was closed, but I plan to go next Sunday when there is a service to see if I can get inside. We walked around the graveyard, and there are a few really old graves, but not too many. In Norway, graves eventually disappear, unless the family wants it to stay and pays some kind of a leasing fee. This graveyard is particularly beautiful; I love the flowers, the rustic looking headstones, and the view of Oslo.


After Tanum Church, we headed over to the Bryn Church. This church is from the mid-1800s, and many of my ancestors switched to this church because of its proximity to where they all lived in Lommedalen. On the way, though, I stopped at the Loeken farm, where my ggg-grandmother Ellen Hansen Christophersen was from, and I took some pictures of what it looks like today. Then we stopped at Bryn farm, which is also an important ancestral farm for my Christopherson line. After taking pictures, I went to the nursery there and bought some flowers to bring to my grandparents’ grave and also my great-grandparents’ grave. In Norway, they don’t use cut flowers, but plant flowering plants in the ground.

... after planting some flowers at my great-grandparents' grave...
and below, my grandparents' grave

When we arrived at the Bryn Graveyard, I met another common descendant of my gg-grandmother's. We had met over the internet because I found her family tree. She showed me her family graves, in particular the son of my gg-grandparents whom she descends from. I also showed her my family graves. We planted some flowers and took some pictures. It was also the first time I saw my grandmother's grave in person, which was quite emotional for me.  Overall, I would have stayed and hunted for some other graves, but we needed to return to my uncle’s home. I hope to go back before I leave Norway and see what other graves I may find.


That evening, we were invited to dinner with some friends of my parents’. One of them was my father’s high school friend. They were very nice, well-travelled, and had some great stories to tell. For my son, it was exciting because there was a ping-pong table in the house. We had a phenomenal dinner starting with a large crab similar to Alaskan King Crab and followed by Baccalao, a fish stew made from dried cod. They use it a lot in Spain and Italy, and when it is made right, it is really delicious.

I have been having a hard time getting to a computer to post, so I have accumulated too much information. I will stop here and try to post more of my trip tomorrow. I hope my ramblings have not been too long for a blog post!

A typically beautiful Norwegian dinner table!!!

Norway, Days 1, 2, and 3

On July 28, 2010, we boarded an airplane that flew the way to the north, as the Vikings used to say 1000 years ago, or as we say today, Norway.  I was really excited to return after so many years.  It had been too long, but after my grandmother died, I no longer felt the same urgency to return.  But on this day, I did return, and in many ways I felt I had returned home.  I have about 500 Norwegian people on my family tree, so I very much feel like I belong here.  The people are so kind, and the air is crisp and feels so good to breathe.  For some reason, Norway has always been the best place for me to get good sleep -- because of the air, I think.  The landscape is hilly, with dark green trees and meadows.  The farms usually have red, yellow, or white homes, which contrast so well with the deep green surroundings. 

The air was quite warm when we arrived, but by the time we reached my uncle's home, it had cooled down quite a bit.  It was somewhat shocking to see the house my grandfather built so dramatically changed, but I also understand why it had to be done.  My uncle expanded the original house and also added a second floor with two extra bedrooms, a living area, a kitchenette, and a bathroom... and he built it all himself.  Building things with one's hands seems to run in the family -- woodworking is a talent of several of my ancestors.  My uncle did a truly fantastic job, but I cannot imagine how he could do it all himself!

The best strawberries in the world...

As soon as we were settled, we ate a fabulous Norwegian meal.  My uncle's wife is from Gambia, but she has been in Norway for many years, and she is an excellent cook.  We had meatballs with gravy, mashed peas (made from dried peas), boiled potatoes, ligonberries, and Norwegian strawberries.  Okay, it is time to plug what is really good here: Norwegian strawberries are the best anywhere in world. 

After dinner, I took my son down to Baerums Verk, the town founded due to iron ore 400 years ago, which is what lured many of my ancestors to the area.  The old foundry and buildings surrounding the iron works still exist, and many have turned into cute shops; most sell very high quality handmade arts and crafts.  Several of the buildings were homes once, and my grandmother was born in one of them.

My grandmother was born in the second building, May 7, 1913...

Baerums Verk -- The Bakery

Baerums Verk has the oldest restaurant in Norway.  The building was built in 1640.

On day 2, we took the bus to Oslo and went to the tourist office to get an Oslo Pass.  These passes are a must for the visitor in Oslo as you can get into all the museums for a very good price.  Even better, all forms of transportation - buses, trams, metro, ferry - are included.  We then boarded the ferry to Bygdøy, which is where the Viking Ships Museum, Kon Tiki, Maritime, Folk Museum, and FRAM, which houses the ship that took Roald Amundsen to the North and South Poles, are all located.  My favorite museums are the Viking Ships and Folk museums.  The Folk Museum, or Museum of Cultural History as it is more properly known, has all original buildings as old as 1000 years old that have been moved there from all over Norway.  This includes an original Stave church, of which there are only 28 left in the entire country.  We managed to escape heavy rain until we decided to return to my uncle's home.  When we arrived there, we found a wonderful stew made with carrots, potatoes, and a hock of ham.  It was delicious, especially in rainy weather.

The Oseberg Viking Ship

Old buildings at the Norwegian Folk Museum

Gol Stavkirke is 800 years old.  It was moved from the mountain village Gol to the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History around the year 1880 by King Oscar II.

The Scream by Edvard Munch

On day 3 in Norway, we returned to Oslo and headed for the National Gallery.  We have all seen the museum before, so we skipped around a bit; many of the paintings depict life as it once was in Norway.  The most famous painter is Edvard Munch.  Most people in the U.S. know him from the painting, The Scream, but he painted a lot of interesting art, and not all of it so dark looking.  In The Scream, Munch was trying to convey a scene of anxiety, something he often suffered.  He had several paintings about the darker aspects of the human soul, as he was affected by the deaths of his mother and favorite sister; also, several siblings suffered from some mental illness.  His own mental health weighed heavily on his mind, and he also succumbed to some anxiety and depression (as I mentioned earlier).  Another nice painting worth mentioning is one by Adolph Tidemand and Hans Gude called Brudeferd in Hardanger.  It was painted during the romantic period in Norway and displays a wedding party departing from the Stave church up the hill.  The party is in a procession of boats departing the shore.  It is quite beautiful.

Adolph Tidemand and Hans Gude's Brudeferd in Hardanger

 After the National Gallery, we walked around Oslo, especially the famous Karl Johnans Gate where there are many shops, restaurants, and interesting buildings.  I bought a few souvenirs and then walked over to the new Opera House, which has won several architectural design awards.  It was pretty impressive.  Even the bathrooms were interesting.  The building has a series of ramp roofs that reach ground level, so you can reach the top without going inside the building and taking an elevator or stairs.  It was much nicer than a picture can depict.

Trolls in Oslo

Climbing the Opera House to the top; below is the view from the top

Holmenkollen Ski Jump

The next item on the agenda was to take the metro and bus up to Holmenkollen, the ski jump that was used for the 1952 Olympics.  My father says he attended those Olympics, by the way.  The ski jump has evolved over the years, starting in the late 1800s.  When we went, there was a bit of construction, as they have had to make the jump higher to keep up with the times.  But the view from the top was still as beautiful as ever.  The ski museum is small but cute.  They also have some very old skis from around 600 AD.  Part of the exhibit focuses on the first Norwegian king and his family after Norway gained its full independence in 1905.

My next blog post will focus much more on some family history, since yesterday I met with some relatives I had not met before.  And today I am going to visit some cemeteries; so stay tuned!

Genealogy Trip - Day 3 and 4

Ruins of the Phoenician-Roman fish market

We spent two more relaxing days in Spain before heading to Norway.  On the third day in Spain, we took a walk in the old town of Almuñecar.  We visited the ruins of a Phoenician-Roman fish market that was discovered not too long ago.  In fact, Almuñecar began as a Phoenician colony named Sexi; it was later occupied by Romans and several other cultures.  Next, we meandered through the botanical park and, coming out of the park, it is a short walk to the new aquarium, which was quite nice.  The facility also had a tunnel where you can see the fish, including sharks, swimming over your head.  It is similar to one I saw at Ripley's Believe It or Not Aquarium in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, during my wedding/honeymoon weekend. Later, that evening, my son took a swim in the pool, and we also played some competitive Ping Pong.  He won.

My son being silly in the pool

The next morning, we walked down the hill to the small beach.  It is a quiet pebble beach, and the weather was perfect -- not too hot or cold.  My son enjoyed a swim in the water.  After a nice cafe con leche, we returned to the house to pack, work on some preparations for Norway, and take a nap.  In the evening, we went out for one more tour of the town before calling it a night.

At the beach

Genealogy Trip -- Day 1 and 2

My trip got off to a bit of a chaotic start. My son and I were dropped off by a friend at the Raleigh-Durham airport on July 22nd where we waited a couple of hours, through three gate changes, before being told the flight was cancelled. There were no other flights to JFK, and all flights through different airports were booked; so we were forced to return home. I should mention we were flying on award tickets, so I have no idea how much this played a part in the lack of seat availability, but nonetheless, we were unable to leave that day and were rebooked -- luckily for the next day. This time, my husband drove us to the airport, which was a bit bittersweet. Had the economy not wreaked havoc on us the last couple of years, I wouldn’t be taking this trip without him. But things are as they are, and wanting something that can’t be doesn’t help the situation – this is my attempt at Buddhist philosophy, by the way. Of course, Murphy’s Law still applied on this day, starting with a boarding delay followed by circling JFK for an hour before landing. We had to hustle to the Iberia ticket counter in another terminal where we managed to find two seats together on the flight to Madrid. Then, although we boarded the plane fairly on schedule, we didn’t take off for about one and a half hours because there were 12 planes in front of us. This resulted in a late arrival in Madrid and the mad dash to catch the flight to Malaga, which of course was in another terminal and the very last gate in the building. I barely had enough time to capture the essence of my first breath of Spanish air, although cigarette smoke was definitely factored somewhere in my brain as I heaved from the unanticipated jog. Needless to say, we made it to the plane, but by a minute or two.

When we arrived in Malaga, we found the glass enclosed baggage carousel meant for non-EU visitors, which was a sauna. I was dragging by now from exhaustion, but Murphy’s Law had its fun once more when I realized my suitcase was missing. The only good thing was that my Spanish was miraculously pretty intact – at least enough to handle asking for instructions and speaking to the people at the lost luggage department.

An hour later, we finally left the secured area of the terminal and met my parents on the outside. On our way to their home in Almuñecar, we stopped by a huge supermarket to buy a couple of hams to bring to Norway as gifts. The store is a bit of a Super-Walmart but with Spanish goodies filling the shelves. The deli was laden with hanging, cured legs of ham and aromatic cheeses unique to the area and other parts of Europe. Even what would be normal in the U.S. looked different – Coke and Pepsi in hourglass shaped bottles measured in the metric system and other sodas and juices we never see. Of course, I was a bit too sleepy from the trip and time difference to truly enjoy any of this, but we got what we needed and moved on toward my parents’ home.

Once there, my son and I were shown to our beds, and we took a six hour nap. We awoke around nine in the evening, local time, and headed out to town for dinner. In Spain, dinner or supper is very late. In fact, when we arrived at the restaurant, the foreigners on vacation were having their meals, and around 10:00 pm Spanish families started trickling in with their young children in tow. Next door, at the park, there was a David Sanborn concert we could hear for free as we ate. Around midnight, we finally left the restaurant and decided to go for a walk in the town.

The view from my room.

Almuñecar has grown a lot since I used to come here as a child. I remember a time when the hills were bare of houses, but now they have built up many areas. Almuñecar is hugged by the Mediterranean, and has become quite a tourist spot. In fact, since it is nearly August, the streets, bars, and restaurants were filled to capacity with all kinds of people – foreigner and local; young and old. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of budding romances – the young Spanish man and woman talking with that gleam in their eyes that says they just met and sparked. One of the women held a rose in her hands as the man cocked his head to speak to her in soft tones with a smile on his handsome face. Oh, to be young again and newly in love – there is rarely as great a feeling. In another scene, the man was on his knees and the woman was telling him to please get up, her arms flailing about wildly. They were too far for me to tell if she was embarrassed or angry. On the sidewalks were several blankets of black-market goods like pirated movies and replica fashion handbags sold by the African immigrants making their living off the tourists and locals. In the darkness of the sea, one could imagine seeing where they came from, etched on the horizon by the light of the moon.

Overall, the first day in Spain was a bit of a whirlwind. Today it has been quieter. My suitcase came, and we went over plans for the trip to Norway. Then my parents’ neighbors came over for coffee -- really nice people from England who live in Almuñecar year-round. And now, I am finally sitting on the terrace with the view of the Mediterranean, where it can sink in that I am truly here. I grew up in Spain, for those of you who don’t know me. This is my genealogical history to pass on, perhaps to my grandchildren one day. I spent six years living in Bilbao, but we always came down to Almuñecar during the summers, or for Christmas. Some of the happiest years of my life were spent here in Spain. I remember my good friends, Mili and Elisa in particular. We were always out playing cops and robbers or some other fantasy game. On the girly side, we had “la goma” which was basically an elastic band tied so that it would hug the hips of two girls while the girl in the middle got to wrap her legs around it in a dance-like fashion – the point was to get unraveled. It is kind of hard to explain, but it took the place of jumping rope and was quite fun. In fact, I brought it with me when I first moved to the United States after ten years abroad.

I should backtrack and say I was born in New Jersey but moved to Italy at a young age, and from there I lived in Spain, then Germany, then Spain again. I remember how hard it was when I came back “home.” I didn’t exactly feel like I fit in too well, and it was also my sixth grade year, which was a hard age to begin with. But I soon adapted to the culture I was born into, although my heart stayed in Spain for several years after I left. Eventually, the memories of the friends I had left behind faded as did the use of the “goma” I had tried to maintain, thanks to two parallel trees in the backyard.

Now when I come back to Spain, it feels somewhat foreign yet familiar… somewhat like home and somewhat like a vacation spot. I belong and I don’t, which is, in essence, the way I have always felt anywhere I have lived.

The game "La Goma."
http://platea.pntic.mec.es/~pruiz/tercerciclo/papelines/juegogoma.htm

Genealogy Trip!

It's time!  Tomorrow I leave for Europe.  I have been going a little crazy the last few days as I get organized for my trip -- hence why I have not posted in a week.  But I plan to post my adventures whenever I can find an Internet connection, so watch for them.

First stop -- Spain.  No genealogy here.  Just visiting my parents who live the retired life there.  But I will be preparing my records, reports, pedigrees, maps etc...

My grandparents' home in 1978

Second stop -- Norway.  I will be staying with my uncle in Baerum.  He lives in my grandmother's house now that she is gone -- the house my grandfather built with his hands in the late 1930s.  Of course, he has renovated the house, so it no longer looks the same.  All I can say is that everyone better be prepared for tears when I see it.  In my heart, it is still the same house, and my grandmother is still there making waffles and coffee.  As for the genealogy tour, I plan to visit a lot of ancestral farms, churches, cemeteries, and a stop in the National Archives building, too.  I will also meet with relatives and descendants of common ancestors to share stories, pictures, and information.  The same will be true when I travel to the Fredrikstad area in Oestfold... and Kongsberg, too. 

Third stop -- Sweden.  I will be following the trail of my ancestors who emigrated from Sweden to Fredrikstad, Norway.  I have two lines in Norway (on my grandfather's side) that go back to Tanum, Sweden, starting with a set of ggg-grandparents.  There is a phenomenal historian I have met over cyberspace who will help me find the farms, crofts, and cottages of my ancestors.  I am so excited; she has already sent me some promising information regarding the locations of ancestral homes.

I have been accumulating frequent flyer miles for years, so this trip will be well worth the wait.  Stay tuned!

Wordless Wednesday

I love this picture! In the middle is my bestefar, Thorolf Haugen, and behind him is my tante Astrid (Kristiansen) on the left and her sister, my bestemor, Gyda Kristiansen Haugen. 

Bestemor and bestefar mean grandmother and grandfather in Norwegian.  

Sunday Biography Series -- The Christophersons, Part V

Jonette Kristoffersdatter

Jonette Kristoffersdatter (Jordbaerhaugen) was born 22 August 1853.  She is my great-great grandmother, the third of six children born to Ellen Hansen (Christophersen) and Kristoffer Pedersen; she was also sister to Martin, Hans, and Haagine Christopherson, all of whom became Mormons and left Norway for Salt Lake City, Utah.  Martin, in particular, was an important figure in the LDS church, and there is a lot of information regarding him and his family.  I wish Jonette had as much recorded history about her as her brother does.  Unfortunately for me, although I can fill in her biography with several facts, I will probably never know the personal details about her as I have learned about Martin or even Hans and Haagine.  Jonette's sibilings' Utah descendants have written memories about them for people like me to find.  I am afraid that anything personal about Jonette died with my grandmother and her siblings, and it makes me a little angry to think of the times Jonette's picture was pointed out to me but I didn't think to ask what she was like or what was remembered about her.  Perhaps my grandmother would not have had so much to say as she was not a big talker, but her sister, my tante Astrid, had the gift of gab, and she would probably have had many answers for me.  Moral of the story: Ask your older relatives questions, and ask them deeper questions than "what was her name and where did she live!"

Jonette was born on Burud Farm, but she was raised in Skollerud, in Baerum, with Ellen's sister, Anne Marie.  The 1865 census places her there with Anne Marie and her husband and children.  I am not sure, but I believe that when Ellen and Kristoffer were told to leave Burud Farm that they may have been desperate for a way to care for all their children while trying to find a new living.  In Jonette's case, she was placed with family while Ellen and Kristoffer left for Kristiania.  Jonette's confirmation record on 18 October 1868 states she is still living in Skollerud as does her marriage record.

On 31 October, 1875, Jonette married Olaus Kristensen (1846 - 1915) and left Skollerud for Grini mølle where Olaus was living.  My understanding is that this was the easternmost farm in Baerum, bordering Aker, and is now part of Oslo.  Mølle in Norwegian means mill, and, in fact, until about 1888 Grini had a mill alongside the river.  There was also a sawmill, brickworks, and a lime burner according to Wikipedia (here).  I assume my great-great grandfather Olaus must have worked in one of these industries or, at some point, perhaps all of them. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grini

The timeline I have developed for Jonette suggests that she and Olaus lived at Grini from 1875 to about 1881, which is when they moved to Skollerud, in Baerum, for two or three years.  Although they lived in Grini, in 1875, after their marriage, it seems that during 1876 they may have lived in Østern, which is close to Grini, and then returned to Grini by the time my great-grandfather Kristian was born.  Then, circa 1883, they moved to Jordbaerhaugen Farm where they lived the rest of their lives.

During their time in Østern and Grini, Jonette and Olaus had three children.  Anne Mathilde (1876 - 1877) was their first child (born in Østern), but she sadly died shortly before her first birthday from the flu.  Their second child was Kristian (1878 - 1962), my great-grandfather, born at Grini, and the third was Martin Einar (1879 - ?) also born at Grini.  While living at Skollerud, Kristen (1881 - 1938) was born. The rest of their children were born at Jordbaerhaugen: Anton (1883), Nils (1885 - 1982), Paula (1889), Gunda (1892), Peder (1894), Margit (1895), and Jenny (1899).

Jonette and Olaus did not become Mormons as Jonette's mother, Ellen, and three of her siblings did.  I thought that perhaps she did not have much contact with them because she was raised separately from them; however, there is evidence that Jonette did in fact have contact with her mother and siblings.  One of her brother's children living in Salt Lake City wrote that there was a family living in Norway, in Baerum, and specifically at Jordbaerhaugen Farm.  This can only refer to Jonette.  Furthermore, I have found and had contact (through my father) with Jonette's grandson and his wife in Baerum, Norway.  They have a photo album that belonged to Jonette's daughter Margit, but may actually have originated with Jonette, and in the album is a photo of three children that was taken in Salt Lake City.  I am guessing these are children of Jonette's brother Martin or perhaps Hans.  Jonette's grandson and his wife had no idea where the photo came from, but now they know about the relatives who went to Salt Lake City.  It is more likely that the children in the photograph are Martin's because he traveled several times to Norway from Salt Lake City and back.  This is one album I can't wait to see when I travel to Norway this summer!

Jordbaerhaugen House

Jonette Kristoffersdatter Jordbaerhaugen died 21 April 1921 from heart failure.  As one can see, I have quite a bit of knowledge based on facts, but I would have liked to know more about her personally.  Was she musical as some of her siblings were?  Was she artistic?  What was her personality like?  What did she like to do? So many questions I may never have any answers to because I waited too long before realizing the need to ask the questions.  But I hope that I will meet one of her descendants who might know something.  Perhaps her grandson who is still living, although it did not seem like he had much insight; but one phone call is not enough to determine this, and I hope a face-to-face meeting may spur some information.  The problem is that he is the son of the next to youngest child and Jonette was dead by the time he was born.

If anyone reads this, and you believe you descend from Jonette and Olaus Jordbaerhaugen, please enlighten me with any information you may have.

Wordless Wednesday -- Hanna and Emil Haugen

My great-great grandparents, Emil Georg Samuelsen Haugen (1871 - 1854) and Hanna Marie Andreasdatter (1871 - 1943); the baby is my father.

Sunday Biography Series -- The Christophersons, Part IV

Ellen Hansdatter Christopherson


Ellen Hansdatter (27 Aug 1822 - 24 Mar 1899) was born on Løken Farm, Lommedalen, Baerum in Norway and baptized in the old Tanum Kirke on 8 September 1822.  She was the sixth child of eight born to Hans Andersen and Marthe Nilsdatter.  Unfortunately, her mother died at the age of 32 from pneumonia when Ellen was only 5 years old.  However, Ellen seems to have been raised with her father and probably other family, as she and her siblings continued to live on Løken Farm.  On the 9th of October in 1836, Ellen was confirmed in the Lutheran Tanum Kirke, and in 1850 she married her deceased sister's (Maren Hansdatter) husband, Kristoffer Pedersen.  She was still living in Løken when she married him.  Once married she moved to Burud Farm where her husband and several generations before him had lived.


In my last post, I explained a bit about how Ellen came to move to Kristiania (now known as Oslo).  Apparently, Kristoffer had not perfomed his duties appropriately and was asked to leave Burud Farm.  Kristoffer died in Kristiania a few years later, leaving Ellen widowed with several children.  (In all, she and Kristoffer had 7 children.) Alone, Ellen may have been forced to have some or all of her children raised by family and friends, at least temporarily.  Her daughter, my gg-grandmother, Jonette Kristoffersdatter, was in fact raised by Ellen's sister, Anne Marie, in Skollerud, Lommedalen, in Baerum.  Furthermore, in the 1865 census, I have found only one Ellen Hansdatter living in Oslo (9 Jernbanetorvet Street) who was born in Baerum in the right year.  Although it is possible the woman is not my Ellen, I feel it is likely that it is. The woman is listed as widowed, which fits; she is also living with other people -- none of them her children --and her occupation is as a worker in a steam factory.  I have yet to figure out what type of factory this is, so if anyone knows, please enlighten me. 


Ellen was obviously down on her luck once she was widowed.  But her children, at least some of them, seem to have been close by, as Martin and Hans worked as gardners at the King's castle in Oslo.  We also know from a tale that was passed down to her descendants that when her son Martin converted to Mormonism she followed him to a meeting to see what this new religion was about.  She hid in a corner and listened and was so impressed she felt compelled to become a Mormon herself.  A few years after her son Martin left for Salt Lake City, Utah, she followed, arriving circa 1876.


I don't know too much about Ellen's life in Salt Lake City.  A year ago, I didn't even know who she was, nor did I know I had Mormons in the family, and I certainly didn't expect to have a ggg-grandmother buried in the United States when as far as I knew, I was a first-generation American.  Wow!  What a journey this has been!  Since then, I have accumulated documentation on the lives of her children in Salt Lake City and also a little bit about her life.  I learned she became a Mormon along with three of her children and possibly a brother.  Her daughter, my gg-grandmother Jonette, remained Lutheran and never left Norway.  I assume the other children who remained in Norway also did not convert.  I also know that when her son, Martin, left Utah for Norway on one of his early missions as president -- a mission that would take him away for about two years -- that Ellen moved in with his wife and children to help out.  The next point in her timeline is her death in 1899.  I found her obituary, which stated that she died in the home of her son, Martin Christopherson.  No cause of death is mentioned.  She is buried in the Salt Lake City Cemetery.  I would very much like to know if there are any other stories about her between her dates of 1822 and 1899.  In the mean time, I am happy to have learned so much about an ancestor I had never heard of just one year ago.

Note: By Norwegian tradition, Ellen would not have been a "Christopherson."  Her children were Christophersons by patriarchal tradition, but Ellen must have wanted to avoid confusion in the United States and chose to use the same surname as that of her children.