And here is the summary of Marilyn's trip to Denmark with her cousins. I have to admit, I have not done more than scan this before now, so I'm curious to see what she has to say. With as long as I've been researching this side of the family, it's fascinating to me how much I know, and just how little I still know, in spite of everything, both at the same time.
I recall what first started me on this road—an assignment for a women's studies class on my family. We had to write a paper on three generations of women in my family. Being the family genealogist, I decided to go home and look at my family tree. The story of my great-grandmother dying so young stuck out to me, and my grandmother was still alive at the time, which meant I could interview her for the paper, so I felt it would be a fascinating story to do.
I really had no idea how detailed this search would become, nor how involved I would find myself in my great-grandmother's history. I'm fascinated by everything I've learned, and really, I can't wait to learn more. I'm just glad I got the chance to talk with her about Oline. It's definitely one of my treasured memories.
Just one letter today, though it's in several parts, as it was written on at least two occasions, and also includes the transcript of the trip. I hope you will find this as fascinating as I do.
As always, I've taken out any personal addresses and first names of family still living aside from Aunt Marilyn have been changed to initials. Also, any misspellings have been left as they were written to preserve the feel of the original document.
Idyllwild
July 6, 1987
Dear Maggie,
When I began to write a synopsis of my recent trip to Denmark in response to a special request from Luther's sister Bee, I found that it was becoming something that would be the beginning or rough draft of the complete story I want to write.
This enclosure is indeed rough, as you can see by the errors in typing and sentence structure. It needs and will get a lot of editing, but as I go through it, I am reminded of other events that will go into the final draft. However rough it is, I feel that you might be interested in the outline of my story now, and I am therefore sending you this copy.
If we are able to clear up the mystery of grandmother Sophie's father homesteading in Minnesota, that story will be included in the final. Therefore, the final will include whatever we find out about him and Oscar and Tina. It appears possible that there may be more cousins in the U.S. if Grandfather or Oscar or Tina left any behind. Uncle Hans says there are none, but he has not kept in touch for many years. We'll see.
Marilyn
I'm sending this to Torben also. I hope you received my letter in Chicago. It included 2 photos – one of Sophie and one of her 6 children.
I hope & expect that you had an enjoyable trip, liked Elderhostel, found the Chicago relatives in good form and Uncle Hans in good health.
Marilyn
P.S. My notes of our visit w/Uncle Has do not show that he had a picture of Sophie and Rasmus in his album. I hope you found one.
(COPY)
[Address redacted]
Idyllwild, CA 92349
July 1, 1987
Dear Bee,
I think I have been like a cow chewing her cud. I have had to pause for a while to digest my experiences in Denmark before putting much on paper. The pictures I took have slowly been coming back from the processor, and seeing them has helped in my "digesting" process.
Elsa and I flew together from LAX to Copenhagen, over the pole, and Karen met us there. She had gone from Chicago to Copenhagen a few days ahead of us to visit friends. We had just the weekend in Copenhagen to get over jet lag and visit two relatives and Tivoli and the Stroget. Can you imagine a world famous shopping street like the Stroget in Copenhagen closing at noon on Saturday? That's what they do – all over Denmark the merchants close at noon on Saturday. This is by law, and some Danes I talked to about it find it very inconvenient and don't like it. We visited in the suburbs of Copenhagen twice – the first to a cousin of Elsa's from her mother's side of the family, the second a cousin of the three of us from our fathers' side of the family. They all served beautifully prepared meals, delicious and fresh, on gorgeous china and crystal and sterling silver. That's one generality about Denmark I will make – no matter how simple the home or family I visited, they all had beautiful tableware to use of porcelain, crystal and sterling silver. I am sure you can understand how I appreciated that!
Early Monday morning we got our rented car, an Opel Kadette 2-door, and headed west for Jutland. There we vsited another of Elsa's two cousins. She and her husband and son live on an old farm of 18 or 20 acres that they have refurbished and updated. They have a small private forest, a few head of cattle, they plant a bit of grain and raise kitchen crops and honey. Some of this they sell, but they don't make a living at such a small farm. Ingelise is a nurse and works in nearby Arhus; Helge, her husband, is a professor of biology at Arhus University, and their son Hans-Jakob was just that week taking his exams to graduate from high school. Ingeliese served us the most succulent meal of the loin of a buck shot that year in their private forest. Only one buck a year is taken, and we were honored to share the most choice cut. We did some sight-seeing around Arhus, toured their farm, heard their stories, and generally had a lovely 3 days with them.
Then we took the back roads, through some tiny towns and countryside that was heartbreakingly green under a bright sun and blue sky to our Uncle Adolph and Aunt Agnes. They are very elderly now, but received us graciously by immediately pouring us a glass of liquere in lovely cut crystal glasses. Then we all drove to the home of one of their daughters nearby who set a spread of coffee and cakes and cookies and puddings to please a queen. Others in the family came to join the party, and I met a cousin I have long wanted to meet, charming Henny. One of her sons was there, equally as bright and charming as his mother. Another young man came by in his furniture van -- he works for a furniture company making deliveries, so he swung by on one of his trips in his van to meet us. We looked at lots of pictures and heard many stories, mostly in Danish. Thank goodness Karen knows the language!
From there we went to our cousin Anders in Randers, who was just back from the hospital, having had a hernia operation. But he was on his feet and was the gracious host. We stayed two nights with him and his wife and son and visited his sister Birte for one evening of cake and coffee at which all the rest of the family were in attendance – young and old. At Anders' suggestion, we spent one day visiting the ancient and preserved town of Ebeltoft on the sea shore of the Kattegat.
Where did we go next? We learned that I had yet another cousin in Denmark in my mother's family. Svend and his wife Kathrine lived near Arhus (south of the city) in Lindved, so we planned our trip to include a visit there. It was raining torrents when we arrived at his home, but we stayed for coffee and cake and the taking of some pictures. Svend is about 83, frail, but with such a fine-boned patrician face that I snapped several pictures in order to be sure to capture what I saw. They got out their photo albums to show us some of their lives and events and children and grand children. As soon as we left, I learned later, Svend telephoned his sister Ingrid to tell her all about our visit. We began to sense the excitement I was causing in my mother's family members.
We wound our wet way through the countryside, always taking back roads. We had a marvelously detailed road map of Denmark, and all the roads are so well signed, that it was easy and a great pleasure to wind around the countryside at will. I was doing all the driving because the car's insurance was in my name, but it was not a strain – except when I would try to back up. That funny Opel had a reverse stick shift nearly impossible to find, and when I did find reverse, I could not see out the rear of the car. There was a dangerous blind spot behind me and I needed the help of Elsa and Karen to keep me from hitting things.
We visited some distant cousins that Karen knew well, the Rolskovs and Nanna Christensen, a maiden lady with a huge loom in her basement and a beautiful set of porcelain cups and saucers and plates for coffee. We had dinner with Nanna on service of the old, classic blue and white Danish ware. The Rolskovs had two of their four children at home for a visit (they are in their 20's), and they could do well in English. They also have been living interesting lives of their own – much travel and taking work that was meaningful to them. The young man in the family, Anders, had just spent several months in the western United States living and working with native Indian families.. He had pictures and stories to tell that would be the envy of any other adventurous young person.
Elsa wanted badly to see Legoland for the benefit of her grandson John, so we drove there for a brief visit (it was nearby, and we left Karen behind to visit more fully with the Roskovs) in a driving rain storm. I think my photos for John did not turn out at all, but Grandma can tell John that she was there.
We saw the cities of Silkeborg and Viborg on our way and stayed the night in a "kro" in Stor Binderup. The kro and a gas station was about all there was of the town, but the kro (inn) was especially nice. It was an old thatched roof inn with modern motel units added to it. It was locally owned and operated but a member of what is called "Romantik Inns." This one had been visited by Frederick V (king of Denmark in the 1700's), and that gave the place a special dispensation for something or other. Even though the motel units were new, they still had bathrooms that doubled as shower stalls with hand-held showers. You're lucky that your towels are still dry when you finish showering.
We were heading north the next day, our destination Løkken on the North Sea. Several towns we went through Karen knew well from her childhood. Her mother and father were in the hotel and restaurant business, and Karen grew up in several of them – in Ars, Løkken and Aalborg. At each of them we would wander around looking for the house or hotel she had lived in, and Karen would find the current owner and have long reminiscences with him/her. In the hotel in Ars, for instance, when she was shown the linen room, she exclaimed, "I had the measles in this room!" In Løkken we found the little home they lived in and ate lunch in a restaurant where her mother was cook during the German occupation. Karen left us briefly the next day to pay a personal and quiet visit to her father's grave. He died when she was still a teenager.
Elsa and Karen loved stopping at antique stores, so we did a lot of that. And as you can guess, I found the perfect remembrance of this trip to Denmark – a 3-piece set of coffe cup and saucer and cake dish in an old pattern – Royal Copenhagen "Henrietta." It is a very elegant pattern with lots of gold and small hand-painted flowers. It was an extravagance (I was sincerely trying not to spend much money for this trip), but Karen convinced me that it was a good buy. Inasmuch as Karen for 10 or 15 years was the buyer and manager of Scandinavian Design, an elegant store on Michigan Avenue in Chicago, I felt she knew what she was talking about. There was of course the worry about getting it home intact, and it became the 4th passenger in our car – "Don't sit on Henrietta!" or "Is Henrietta safe?" or "Be careful of Henrietta!"
In Løkken, a summer resort along the North Sea, the rain became quite heavy, but it let up enough after dinner for us to walk down to the sea under a bright moon. We were staying in another old "kro" and had a dinner of local fish (plaise, coated in crumbs and fried in butter, big enough to cover the entire plate) with kartoffler (small boiled potatoes) and a vegetable.. In the main dining room someone was celebrating a birthday with about 100 friends – a sit-down dinner with full service, speeches and songs and much merriment.
Our arrangements were that I would do the driving, Karen would negotiate our hotel and dining arrangements, and Elsa would watch the map. At this particular dining room, we were led to understand that if we would eat what they were serving the birthday party people, it would be much appreciated by the kitchen staff. Of course we were happy to oblige. And another thing about staying at these little inns: they never asked us to register in advance or make any payment in advance. Often the room rent included conventional breakfast, so we would settle up the next morning. But we could easily have skipped out early in the morning without paying for our rooms. I wonder how they protect themselves from that?
That weekend was a holiday weekend – Whitsuntide. Many places were closed from Friday through Monday, and although we did not see evidence of many people on the roads, hotels and dining rooms seemed to be very busy. We had a hard time finding a place to stay after we left Løkken Sunday night, but Lady Luck and Karen were with us. Karen came out of a country kro that had no room that she would accept (she was particular!) when she spotted a taxi that just drove up and discharged a passenger. She engaged him in lively conversation, jumped into our car and said, "Follow that taxi!" So for 26 kilometers we followed him on a narrow country road, through forests and over moors of heather, and left him when he waved us off to the left, and proceeded to a charming, fine, old, complete country inn with swimming pool, walking and bridal paths, recreation house with sauna and pool tables, and a large dining room and bar. The lady manager came out with Karen, both of them chattering away, and Karen translated that there was a room for us if we would promise not to ask for breakfast before 9:00 AM! Also, they had just had a big party that evening to which they served wild boar and they were tired out. Karen inquired, "Is there any wild boar left?" So sure, enough we had a lovely leisurely meal of wild boar that evening, served by a charming middle-aged gentleman who, it turned out, was a guest (and friend) of the establishment and offered to help out by serving tables! The wild boar, incidentally, was good.
Another memorable adventure was our trip to the island of Samsøe where our Deerfoot Lane neighbor Ingelise Weber grew up and where her father and stepmother still live. Samsøe lies east of Jutland and is accessible only by ferry. We had a 9:30 AM reservation for the ferry so tried to find a room for the night before near the port of Hov. After much driving and a couple of disappointments in finding rooms, we got closer and closer to Hov and pulled up at the only kro in town. Karen went in to negotiate for a room and came out looking doubtful, but she said, "They have a room for us but the bath is down the hall and the sink in the room does not work. Do you want to look at it?" Well, we had to consider it. Our backs were to the sea, something Elsa said a good Viking would never allow to happen to him. However her mother (Aunt Helga) had always told her that whenever she might be in Denmark she should never worry about staying in a kro. A kro may be simple but will always be clean. So we said of course we would look at it. What alternative did we have? Upstairs we trudged, narrow, winding stairs they were, and looked at the room. Very simple with three cots and two windows.. Down the hall was the bath – toilet, shower and sink. Not obviously dirty, but not inviting, any of it. But what was our alternative? Nobody wanted to commit the three of us to such a deal. Suddenly Karen spied a dirty ashtray sitting on the toilet and dumped the butts into the toilet bowl with a comment. That made the chambermaid furious and she and Karen had a few words. I started to giggle and had to hide myself because I couldn't control my giggles. We said we would take the room, lugged our bags upstairs by ourselves (through the dining room with crumbs on the table), all while trying to help Marilyn control herself. I was having hysterics; I couldn't stop laughing at our situation. A GOOD VIKING NEVER LETS HIMSELF BE BACKED TO THE SEA!! We were a stone's throw from the harbor for the ferry to Samsøe and the beds were clean, so we slept well. Next door to the kro was a bakery where we bought some delicious pastries for breakfast and felt much better in the light of day. Karen went into the bar and paid the bill and came out saying it wasn't so bad after all.
A cup of coffee on the ferry and the antics of a group of school children going to Samsøe for a week's camp-out revived our spirits. The day dawned sunny and clear, and the island of Samsøe was out of this world with charm and a sense of living in a story book, and Lise's parents, Axel and Kisse, were as gracious as one could hope for. We enjoyed their charming old cottage and their erudite company, delicious meals (two of them), a walk around their acreage and a drive around their beautiful island. Axel is a retired doctor of veterinarian medicine and Kisse was a nurse from Copenhagen. They are both sophisticated, well traveled, educated to include the arts and literature, and gernerous to a fault. It was a memorable day for us. We left on the 7:30 PM ferry for our next stop.
Since it remains light until 10:30 or 11:00 PM, we drove across the bridge to the island of Fyn to visit Bogense where Aunt Helga grew up and where Karen knew several places to buy products of folk artistry. We spent a lot of time on Bogense for Elsa, and it was very, very old and charming. We stopped in two places where Karen knew the artists and bought a few little things as mementoes. Spent a lot of time at the Bogense kirke (church) because Elsa had to check out the new arrangements they make for burials. All these years Helga and her sister Anna have been paying to maintain their parents' graves, but this past year they would not allow them to do so. It seems that many churches in Denmark are now planting over old graves with grass, especially near the front entrances, and not allowing old gravesites to be renewed. Many of the new places are being redesigned to accommodate the ashes of cremated people, since 85% of Danes are now choosing cremation. It takes less room in the churchyard, is the reasoning. Anna is understandably upset that she cannot continue to renew her parents' grave, but now Elsa can convince her that she is not the only one to suffer this disappointment.
I'm out of order in this story, I see. I am reminded that before we left Jutland we also drove to Give to visit the grave of Karen's mother, but after more than an hour of searching, we could not find it! Karen was naturally very upset, but she will return to Give after her trip to Stockholm and Helsinki and Leningrad and visit during the day when she can have the help of the official people at the Give church. We were there after 5:00 PM. Then we drove to Thyregod where my father, Elsa's father and Karen's mother were brought up, but it was late then, too, and the church was locked. I have many pictures of Thyregod from our trip in 1978, so I did not mind missing the inside of the little old church.
After visiting Bogense, we drove for the night to Nyborg, the ferry port that goes to Sjaelland. We were getting near the end of our trip and my visit to my mother's people in Fjenneslev and Alsted. We stayed in a grand, new Best Western hotel, one of those set up for conferences, and situated facing the water. It was very modern, still uncompleted in some areas. But as new as it was, the shower was a corner of a tiled room screened off with a shower curtain.. That evening I hosted a dinner for the two cousins to celebrate Elsa's 59th birthday and to thank them both for the many nice things they had done to make the trip possible and such a pleasure.
We were due at my cousin Ingrid's home in Fjenneslev/Alsted by 2:00 the next day, so in the morning we drove north from Nyborg along the seashore to a lovely little old town named Kereminde. We passed, and stopped to photograph, two grand private estates, working farms, really, and one of them being owned by a baron whom Karen knew – of course! She found out all about him and his family from the gardener on duty whom she engaged in a lively conversation. In Kereminde there was a very old cottage turned into a museum that we visited and enjoyed very much. It had a special showing of authentic utensils, furniture, clothing, etc. of the Danish housewife during the 1930's. Naturally we all recognized many of the implements that were in the kitchens when we grew up.
Lunch was had on the ferry during the hour's ride to Sjaelland. Drove to Alsted and pulled in on time to meet cousin Ingrid and her husband Poul. After warm greetings and being shown to our rooms, we of course sat down to have coffee and something. I don't really remember what we ate, but it may have been that they waited lunch for us. They were sitting by the front window when we drove into the yard, I know. Poul took us for a drive around the area while Ingrid finished preparations for the family dinner at 6 PM. He took us to the Alsted church where Luther and M and I visited in 1978 and where I thought my mother had been confirmed and baptized. But she did attend the schoolhouse which was next door to the Fjenneslev church. If all this confuses you, I'll try to explain.
Fjenneslev, Alsted and Flinterup are three tiny towns of a few farms all within eyesight of each other and separated by rolling lands of pasture and crops. The school and a very historic church are in Fjenneslev; my mother was born in Alsted/Flinterup on the family farm still referred to as Stubbegaard. Alsted is where cousin Ingrid and cousin Ulla live and Fjenneslev is (I think), where cousin Kathrine lives. The lines blur, but I was told that the official of division between county seats goes right through that area. The records from the church at Fjenneslev belong at the "county seat" in Sorø and the records from the church at Alsted belong in the "county seat" at Ringsted. Because the church at Fjenneslev has so much ancient history to it, it is classified now as a national treasure of sorts and is supported by the state, while the Alsted church is still a little country church serving the people nearby. The records show that my mother was baptized and confirmed in the Alsted church.
My father, however had told me that he visited Mother at her home in Fjenneslev, so naturally when Luther and M and I were in Denmark in 1978, we went to Fjenneslev and assumed that the Fjenneslev church was Mother's. At that time, the lady who was tending the church for tourists told us that the records were sent to the "county seat" in Ringsted. When I wanted to trace her, therefore, I wrote to the Historian at the Ringstead office. That puzzled my relatives very much because it was wrong. But it was really good luck in the end, because when my letter of inquiry was received by the local historian in Ringsted, he was about to forward it to Sorø. But knowing that Sorø did not have as good a local historian as was in his own office in Ringsted, and since the lines blur in that area anyhow, he gave my letter to one of his people to work on. Mr. Kjaer-Hansen was able to work across both lines of official demarcation and come up with the answers I needed.
I don't think my family members in Alsted/Fjenneslev/Flinterup had anything but a casual interest in family history until my letter came along and until I came along to visit them. Ingrid and Poul put on a beautiful dinner party for us all that first evening – 11 of us, counting Elsa and Karen. None of them could speak any English and I was glad to have Karen along, but the conversation was so excited (at a Danish dinner table everyone talks – nay, shouts – at once!) that not too much got through to Elsa and me. I did understand, however, that they had a great deal of difficulty accepting the fact that I was in Fjenneslev in 1978 and did not come to see them!
Karen left the next morning for Copenhagen and then on to Stockholm, Helsinki and Leningrad and return to Copenhagen before returning to Chicago. Elsa left for her flight to Los Angeles on Saturday morning, and I was left along with Ingrid and Poul and all these relatives until the following Thursday! Oh, but they were hospitable. We tried our best with sign language, a Danish-English phrase book and a smattering of German that Poul and I knew. They had had a German army officer billeted in their home during the occupation of World War II. The cousins each took turns having me over for a visit, a dinner and something special. Two of them had daughters-in-law who knew English, so that helped us a lot. Sunday, cousin Frede (a man) and his wife, Gudrun, son Leo and daughter-in-law Lisse (who knew English) and their two children, 11 and 15 years old, devoted the entire day to me. I was picked up at 9:30 AM and taken to the old family home, Stubbegaard, in Alsted-Flinterup. This is where my mother and her 5 brothers and sisters grew up. A young couple now owns the farm and it is there livelihood. One barn is for pigs and one for cattle. We were shown around and invited in for a drink of wine with the owner's mother and the farm hand, Torben. Jorgen's wife was in the hospital, just having given birth to their first baby. It was raining torrents that morning, but we proceeded with our visit as if it did not matter. And it didn't. Those people are used to weather like that and continuing doing whatever needs doing. Then we visited the family farm of Frede's son Leo, took pictures and looked at family photos and old inherited items, like a large trunk that belonged to my mother's brother Herman (Frede's father). Off to Frede and Gudrun's home next for a big dinner. Then off in two cars to tour the countryside, two huge and beautiful estates with handsome manor houses, one with absolutely gorgeous grounds that the public allowed to enjoy. After that, we found ourselves deep into the countryside at a very, very old cottage that has been turned into a place that serves coffee and aebleskiver and is very popular with those in the "know." It was a wonderful day, and Lisse was a charming young woman, easy to talk with about affairs of the day for Denmark.
One night was set aside for dinner with cousin Kathrine (pronounced "Katrina") and her husband Jorgen. They had a house that is an antique dealer's dream – the furniture and artifacts would bring a small fortune in the right hands. Again, we ate a delicious meal off lovely porcelain, intricately cut crystal and handsome sterling. But no vegetable or salad. Roast beef, boiled potatoes, rich brown gravy, pickles, and for dessert a fruit pudding with rich cream. Their son and family came over after dinner, and so the table had to be set again for coffee and pastry before we went home. One of the most interesting items of that evening was seeing a copper coffee urn that Kathrine has, supposedly handed down through the family from my great-grandfather before he went to America to homestead on a farm in Minnesota. This is a mystery because they have the coffee urn but never heard of the fact that their grandmother's father had gone to America. Uncle Hans in Omaha had been very specific about the fact that when he came to America in 1912 he went to work on his grandfather's farm in Minnesota. I have the local historian, and others, working on clearing up this mystery.
The evening we went to cousin Ulla's for dinner was something else. Her husband Poul ("farmer Poul") was a large and exuberant host, pouring snapps and wine and drinking "skaal!" as often as possible. That meal was a formal "kolde table" smørrebrød meal, with lots of fish, meat, bread, more meat and more bread, and on and on. Then the table was cleared, we went into the living room to discuss the family tree with the local historian Mr. Kjaer-Hansen who was their guest, and then the table was set again for coffee and dessert. A daughter and her son came to pay their respects, and Poul grandly commanded his grandson to sit next to me and speak English. The poor kid was embarrassed, but I tried to be easy on him and soon we were comfortably talking together. The rest of them carried on their talking in their typical Danish way. I think I remember this from my childhood. The adults sit around talking excitedly and loudly, two or three at a time, shouting across the table to make a point, always with jovial good humor. They interrupt each other, embroider each other's stories in tandem, disagree and correct each other, but I never saw a frown. It seems like a game, and even though I couldn't understand them, I watched in amusement and amazement and pretended that the conversation was a ball that I could watch bounce from court to court. But as it always turned out, there were usually three balls going at once!
One day Ingrid and Poul took me with them when they went to the Alsted church to put fresh flowers on the family graves. This was very charming and quite moving to me. They did their gardening and watering on each grave and explained who each was who lay beneath us. A caretaker came by and chatted a bit, then went up into the belfry and began pealing the bell. Poul told me I could go up and watch, so I did – in the little door with the huge key, up the worn stone steps, winding in a tight curve, then up a ladder, the wood worn smooth as silk, into the belfry. The two bells were hung on massive beams; the light came in through small windows in the steeple, the attendant was pulling on the clapper with a fat rope, and the sound went through me in waves. After ringing one bell for about 5 minutes, he moved to the second bell with a different tone and began to strike the hour of 5 o'clock. But he struk it 9 times for 5 o'clock. It was an emotional experience for me; I felt as though I were in another world, and indeed I was. The waves of sound brought me to tears, and I wept for – I suppose – the lost memory of my mother. That experience was fairly early in the week I spent with Ingrid and Poul, and after passing through that emotion with the bells, I enjoyed the many other sights and sounds with a better balance of joy and learning.
And so the day came to leave for Los Angeles. Ingrid and Poul rode into Copenhagen with me to be sure I didn't lose my way or need their help. They are in their early 80's, and I certainly did not want Poul carrying my heavy suitcase, but they wanted to be there and I worked it out so he did not get to carry my suitcase. If it had been a lovely day weather-wise, they would have stayed in Copenhagen and visited Tivoli before taking the train back home, but it was raining again. I'm sure they needed their daily nap when they returned home as it was. I said goodbye to them reluctantly, but I shall always remember them with deep affection.
Luther met me at Immigration and had a welcome-home gift of Flora Danica perfume spray! It took me a week to settle down from the excitement, and I don't know that I ever will. This trip was such a highlight that I am a changed person. I have a lot of great pictures and it will take some time to get them all in order and to write up the story of it. Now I have a lot more people to correspond with, also. And who knows, perhaps some of those grandchildren of the cousins will pay us a visit some day. That would be nice.
If you can sit through this long letter at one sitting, I congratulate you, Bee. I'll close here without further ado.
Lovingly,
Marilyn
As for me, I'll leave most of my thoughts for another time because this is so long, but I have to say I envy her the chance to have gone. It sounds like it was a truly incredible experience.
Finding Oline Correspondance 5
Finding Oline Correspondance 3
I'm a bit behind on this. A few things came up in the last few weeks, so I've been distracted. But hopefully I'll be back on track these next two Fridays, because starting the first I'll be doing NaNoWriMo for the fifth time, which means I'll be very distracted for most of November.
But as soon as that is over, I plan to get back on track, and maybe write a good deal more on Oline.
Today I have the letter from their cousin Ingrid Hansen; a letter from Marilyn to her siblings containing the letter she received from Evelyn Deats, who was Uncle Hans's caretaker when they got back in touch with him; her response to Evelyn; and a second letter from the Ringsted Archives.
As always, I've taken out any personal addresses and first names of family still living aside from Aunt Marilyn have been changed to initials. Also, any misspellings have been left as they were written to preserve the feel of the original document.
Dear Marilyn,
Thank you for your letter, and for the foto.
We are looking forward to see you here in Denmark.
We hoped very much, that you arrive after the 3rd of June.
We are in Norway from the 26th of May, until the 3rd of June, and will be very sorry, if we do not see you.
In your letter, you asked for our telephone number, here it comes: 03 64 82 37.
We do not speake English, so we hope, your cousin Karen Margrethe will call us, when you arrive Copenhagen, and we hope, she will be helpful, when we meet you.
Will you please send the name and address of the family in Jylland.
We will then take contact with them.
Ingrid Hansen.
(signed) Ingrid Oline Hansen
Dear Torben and Maggie:
Following is a copy of the letter I received from Evelyn Deats of Omaha:
Dear Marilyn,
I am Hans' step-daughter in law. I am the one who takes care of his mail, his business and visits him every Thursday. Your letter came yesterday but I won't be able to get to Hans for a few days as we are snowed in as you can see by the papers.
I don't think Hans could call you on the phone. He is very deaf. He has a Hearing Aid but doesn't wear it much as he has an infection in the ear and goes to Uni. Hosp. Almost every week for treatments. So glad to hear from you as the only address I had was Kai Hansen and I wrote him about Hans.
Hans address is Douglas County Hospital
4102 Woolworth Ave., Room 424
Omaha 68105
On July 6, 1 day after his 96 birthday he had a gall bladder operation at Lutheran Hospital. He was very sick as it had damage his liver and colon and was there till the end of July when the Doctor had him moved by ambulance to County (this is more of a rest home, but they do have a couple od doctors therepart time. It’s a very old building but he gets wonderful care, its clean, and the nurses dearly love him. His mind is so clear, and his sense of humor so great, they have lots of fun with him. Mostly colored nurses but so kind, most of them call his "pop" and call to him as they pass his door and always stop to say "hi" to me when I visit.
Hans is the only one they can visit with as most of the patients are in wheel chairs and most don't know where they are. I've thought of moving him but decided it's best to leave well enough alone.
I got him on Medicaid now so that helps financially. They take most of his social security but leave enough for me to buy his personal things each month. My husband Marcel, his step son, is getting senile and not much help, and Elene, his step-daughter, is getting senile and is no help at all. She was in hospital and rest homes from July 30 till mid Oct. and I went to see her several times a week and took care of her finances. She's back in her apt. now.
I wound up in hospital the last week of Febr. With a bleeding ulcer from all the extra responsibility so now I just take care of Hans. I'll be 80 in June and I wear a back brace so I don't get around much but I still drive the car so if you come by plane let me know so I can meet you. Hans and I have had some good talks about Denmark and his family. I found an old album with pictures of his family in it. I'll take it to hospital when you come and he can tell you about them. I hope he will give it to you as it wont' mean anything to us. After he moved to County I asked him about hisfolks names he said his mother was an Olsen with an "E" but it took some time to remember her first name and then gave me his fathers name and said he died when he was 3 or 4 years old. I've really got to know Hans since he's been at County. When he was in his apt. we didn't see him much as he was independent, didn't need help but always came to our house for Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was known as the Mayor of Park Ave. He walked down to the church to the site for his noon meal each day and was always a hit with the ladies. I know you will enjoy him. Awaiting your visit.
[address redacted]
P.S. It looks like we are snowed in for several days. Had to go out the front door only have a narrow path from side door to garage. Neighbor tried to use our snow blower on it but it got clogged up. Beats all, had such a mild winter – no snow – and now with early flowers out and trees budded this has to come. Have grandson stranded in St. Louis till planes can fly again. Live in Nebr. And you find a variety of weather that's for sure. Hope you can read this. I miss my son's elec. Type-writer. He's in Palm Springs for a few weeks. Drove an old couple out there.
Maggie: Torben called this morning. He has reservations on United Flight #277 April 25 arriving in Omaha at 9:57 AM. He'll meet us at the baggage place if we miss him at the gate. He leaves Tuesday the 28th at 9:30 AM. Those flights are very convenient to ours.
Torben has agreed to bring his tape recorder. I think it's younger and less bulky than mine. I will ask Mrs. Deats to have 2 rooms reserved for us at a motel reasonably close to where Uncle Hans is staying. Maggie, would you please ask R to arrange for a car rental for us when we arrive at the Omaha airport? I bought my ticket directly from United, so I don't have an agent to go through for the car.
Torben: Maggie and I will meet in Denver and fly from there to Omaha on the same plane: United #280, arriving in Omaha at 8:36AM. We leave Tuesday the 28th on United #667 at 7:35 AM.
Tomorrow morning I start 2 weeks of jury duty in Riverside, and on Easter Sunday we'll host a dinner here for the Sanborns, Johnsons, Sauters, Alexanders and N Hansen. Then it's off to Omaha and an adventure I never dreamed would happen!!
Keep in touch.
Marilyn
April 5, 1987
Mrs Evelyn Deats
[address redacted]
Dear Evelyn,
The long distance telephone lines have been busy between here and Seattle and Cleveland since I received your letter. Thank you for writing such a nice, newsy letter.
You wrote me that you had written to a Kai Hansen about Hans. Would you please give me his address?
My brother and sister and I are planning to fly to Omaha on Saturday, April 25. Our planes all arrive in Omaha at about the same hour (8:30 Am and 9:57 AM), so we will rent a car at the airport when we arrive. We have reservations to leave Omaha early the morning of Tuesday, April 28.
May we ask that you call a motel to reserve rooms for us that are reasonably near Douglas County Hsopital? We will need one room for Mr. Torben Hansen of Cleveland, Ohio, an one double room for my sister Mrs. Margaret Hillinger of Seattle, Washington, and myself to share. A reasonable price would be about $40 per night per room. We will need the rooms for 3 nights – the nights of April 25, 26 and 27. Tomorrow I begin two weeks of jury duty; otherwise we would be able to visit Uncle Hans earlier. I do hope we don't tire him out too much with 3 days of visiting, but I could not obtain a return flight at a reasonable price earlier than Tuesday.
If you have any suggestions of somewhere we might take Uncle Hans for a drive or a meal, we would appreciate your telling us. And of course we will telephone you as soon as we arrive.
Thank you very much for your help. We look forward to meeting you.
Marilyn Weare
Marilyn, Maggie and Torben visited with their uncle Hans on April 25, 26, and 27th. The notes for that visit can be found here.
Dear Mrs. Marilyn Hansen Weare.
Mr. Kjaer-Hansen, who has made the research concerning your family has got a letter from your cousin, Ulla and has asked me to translate it to English, which I am pleased to do. (I enclose the original letter)
"Dear Marilyn.
It certainly was a surprise to hear signs of life from our cousin in America, but it was a pity that it was not many years ago. I remember tha Father many times said, "If only I knew where Line's children were".
For many years, you know, we did not hear from Uncle Hans, either. but then suddenly there came at letter, and as far as I remember he had been married for 18 years. I think that Father had him searched for by the Salvation Army, -- without result.
Frede has been here to-day and has shown me your letter. It must have been very nice for you to meet Uncle, and nice for him as well. After Father and Mother died I took over the Christmas letters, -- it rarely became more, but a sign of life is also good.
You ask if we cousins know each other. Yes we do, for we don't live far from one another, and I live next to your mother's uncle's farm, but it has just changed hands.
We are still having visits from Mr. Kjaer-Hansen from the localhistory archieves, with whom you have been corresponding. He is doing a good piece of work for us.
We are looking forward to seeing you. Give our love to your two cousins and to Margaret and Torben.
Love to you from mu husband and myself
Yours Ulla. ".
Translation by N.J. Hansen
archivist.
Mr. Kjaer-Hansen asked me to send you the "family-tree", and we hope that you understand it, but we can talt about it, when you come.
The family tree referred to in the letter detailed the Hansen family starting with Oline's parents and going through their grandchildren. I have a photocopy, which also included this picture of their children:
L-R: Top: Oline, Herman, Maren Hansine
Bottom: Ole, Johanne, Hans
If any family members would like a copy, just contact me and I will get it scanned in so you can have one. My copy isn't the best, but it is a wonderful record to have.
I still have a good deal more to come: another letter from Evelyn, and much more from Marylin, including a summary of her trip to Denmark. I'll do my best to get at least some of that up next week.
Finding Oline Correspondance Part .5
So I know I said last week that I would do the responses to Marilyn's letters from Omaha and Denmark, but then I went through the letters I had and found one that pre-dated my first entry here. So we'll call this entry Finding Oline Correspondance .5, then.
This is how Marilyn got the information that she sent to the Ringsted Archives.
Here are copies of papers Marilyn asked that I look up for her effort to find where our mother came from. The death certificate seemed to be the source of the use of the name OLIVE. I think it is also on her gravestone. Then when I found the marriage license I saw Olive again. Followed by Finland and Asmus instead of Rasmus.
Under Oline, in 1929, her will was probated. It was written Oct 2, 1925 but gave no clues to her Danish heritage.
Found Holger's naturalization papers listing "Aline"s birthdate as 1889, born at Ringsted.
I thought you might be curious about these. Couldn't find Oline's naturalization papers.
Marilyn & Lu are taking a big swing thru the East and we expect to see them next month. They also plan to see T & L later – after Lu's 50th reunion.
The end of May we're going to visit N & see the home he bought last fall.
Hope you both are well as ever.
Torben
An exciting letter for me, because I didn't realize Oline had a will, so I'll have to look into that and see if I can get a copy. Could make for some interesting reading.
As for Oline's naturalizations, I have been told that wives didn't need to be naturalized so long as their husbands were, or were already citizens.
And some scans of the mentioned documents:
Holger's Naturalization information:
Their Marriage Documentation:
And Oline's Death Certificate:
Sorry they're a bit blurry, but any family members who would like a copy, I'm definitely willing to send the versions I have on my computer, which are much better.
Next week: The promised responses from Omaha and Denmark.
Finding Oline Correspondance Part 2
Last week, I posted my aunt Marilyn's letter to Denmark to find out more about her mother's family, and their response. This week, I'm sharing the letters she wrote to her cousins and her Uncle who was still alive in the US.
(Again, I've taken out all the personal addresses below, even though most are likely no longer where my family lives, just for my own personal comfort)
Mrs. Poul Hansen
[address redacted]
DENMARK
Dear Cousins Frede, Ulla, Ingrid and Katrine:
Today I received a letter from Mr. Niels-Jorgen Hansen of the Midtsjaellands Lokalhistoriske Arkiv in Ringsted telling me that I have 4 more cousins in Denmark. My family are as thrilled as I am to learn about you.
In adition, the news that Uncle Hans is still alive and is in the United States comes as a wonderful, great surprise. My brother and sister and I have fond childhood memories of him. I have written to him immediately to ask if I may visit him in Omaha, perhaps late in April.
I shall be traveling to Denmark late in May or early in June with two cousins from my father's family. We will rent a car and drive throughout Denmark fro about 2 weeks visiting family. Although the date of our flight into Copenhagen is not yet firm, I expect that we will be able to visit you the first week in June. Please let me know a day that is convenient for all of you for this historic visit, and we'll make our plans accordingly. I plan to stay in Denmark about a week after our tour.
I am sorry to say that I do not speak Danish, but one fo the cousins I shall be traveling with does speak Danish very well and will be our interpreter. Her name is Karen Margrethe. The other cousin's name is Elsa.
There are many questions I want to ask about your family, but I will leave them for our meeting. I am sending you a photograph of myself taken 4 years ago at my 60th birthday. I resemble my mother Oline very much. I will bring other family pictures with me, including some of my sister Margaret and brother Torben and their families.
When you write to me, please send a telephon number so I may call one of you from Copenhagen. Although I am mailing this letter to Ingrid, it is meant for all of you.
I will close with many greetings to you and your families and my great anticipation for our meeting in June.
Your cousin,
Marilyn Hansen Weare
March 21, 1987
March 22, 1987
Mr. Hans C Hansen
[address redacted]
Dear Uncle Hans:
I am your sister Oline's daughter Marilyn.
I have recently been able to locate cousins Frede, Ulla, Ingrid and Katrine through correspondence with the Midtsjaellands Lokalhistoriske Arkiv in Ringsted, Denmark. The Arkivleder gave me your address.
I am so happy to find you after so many, many years, and I want to go to Omaha to visit you in late April. Please telephone me COLLECT at
Sister Margaret lives in Seattle, Washington now. She has 4 children and 4 grandchildren. She and I have each visited Denmark several times.
Brother Torben Skow lives in Cleveland and has 2sons, no grandchildren.
And I live in southern California. Luther and I have 2 married daughters and no grandchildren as yet.
Father Holger died on Christmas Day in 1977 in Cleveland.
I plan to go to Denmark in June of this year to visit cousins in Holger's family. Now I can also visit the cousins from Oline's side of my family. They know I am coming. What a thrill to have found them and you!
I am enclosing a picture of me taken in 1983, on my 60th birthday. I believe I resemble Oline very much.
It would be wonderful to see you again. Margaret, Torben and I have fond memories of you. I hope you will telephone me right away.
With love from your niece,
Marilyn Hansen Weare
Next: Letters from the cousins, from Omaha, and from the Ringstead Archives.
Finding Oline Correspondance - Part 1
So I'm starting on a book about my grandmother and her sister's search to find information about their mother. I've written about Oline before. She died when my grandmother was nine, and their father lost touch with the only sibling she had in the US, so they lost touch with that side of the family.
In the mid-eighties, my great-aunt took it upon herself to track down what little information they could find about their mother, tracking down her death and marriage certificates, and used the information she found to write a letter to her home town in hopes of finding more family.
The letters below are the letter she wrote, and what followed.
(I've taken out all the personal addresses below, even though most are likely no longer where my family lives, just for my own personal comfort)
[address redacted]
24 February 1987
Direktor
Midtsjaellands Lokalhistoriske Arkiv
Skolegade 9
4100 Ringstead, DENMARK
Mr. Direktor:
I plan to visit Denmark in June 1987 to visit my father's family. I also wish to find any members of my mother's family, and ask for your help in locating them from your records.
My mother, Oline Hansen, was born in Fjenneslev, Denmark, December 25, 1888. Her father was Rasmus (or Asmus) Hansen; her mother's name was Sophie Olsen. She had one younger brother, Hans Hansen, so far as I know.
Oline emigrated to the United States about 1914/15 and worked a while in Chicago. After a visit home to Fjenneslev about 1916, she returned to the United States and lived in Cleveland, Ohio, where she married Holger Skow Hansen (of Thyregod, Denmark) September 14, 1918. I was the second of their 3 children (born 1919, 1923 and 1925). Mother died in Cleveland, Ohio, March 26, 1929.
We have lost all trace of Oline's brother Hans. He lived in Cleveland and visited us when Mother was alive. He was not married at the time, but he vanished a few years after Mother died. We have never known of Mother's family in Fjenneslev.
The above information was obtained from public records in Cleveland, Ohio. I did not find Oline's name listed in the 1911 census for Fjenneslev.
Enclosed is a check for US $10.00 towards any fee you charge for this service. I will be glad to pay whatever charge is required.
It would be a wonderful experience to visit any cousins, aunts or uncles from my mother's family (if there are any), or to see the records, when I visit Denmark in June. I am very grateful for your help and hope to have an early reply.
Very truly yours,
Marilyn Hansen Weare
(Mrs. Luther S. Weare)
The response from Ringsted:
Skolegad 9 * 4100 Ringsted * Giro 9061533
Telefon 03*616859
Mrs Marilyn Hansen Weare
[address redacted]
Concern your letter February 24, 1987,
I wish to give you preliminary answer about your Mothers family here in Denmark, later I can send more information.
You have 4 cousins namely:
Frede Hansen, [address redacted]
Ulla Hansen, [address redacted], married with farmer Poul Jensen
Ingrid Hansen, [address redacted], married with painter Poul Hansen
Katrine Hansen , [address redacted], married with farmer Jørgen Jensen.
I send a Xero with the addres of Hans Hansen he had send a Christmas-card 1986, to Ingrid Hansen.
Your cousins are looking forward to see you.
We have informations-name and dates-about your family, perhaps these can have interest.
Ringsted March 11.1987
Kind Regards
(signature illegible L Something Hansen)
Midtsællands Lokalhistoriske Arkiv
I have more, but I figure I'll spread this out a little since I don't have much to post about these days, and there are a lot of letters I can add. :)
And a note: I didn't even realize until I started typing this up just how appropriate it was to do this this week. It was Holger and Oline's Anniversary Wednesday.
Womens History Month -- Week 2
March 6 — Describe an heirloom you may have inherited from a female ancestor (wedding ring or other jewelry, china, clothing, etc.) If you don’t have any, then write about a specific object you remember from your mother or grandmother, or aunt (a scarf, a hat, cooking utensil, furniture, etc.)
For my 21st birthday, my grandmother gave me a necklace her mother got from her parents when she turned 21. She wanted me to have a bit of the great-grandmother I remembered so well. It's a gold sunburst dotted with seed pearls, and the backing is a pin, so it can also be worn that way. The only time I actually wore it was at my wedding, though, hidden under the sash of my dress as my something old.
March 7 — Share a favorite recipe from your mother or grandmother’s kitchen. Why is this dish your favorite? If you don’t have one that’s been passed down, describe a favorite holiday or other meal you shared with your family.
There are a few recipes I could choose. My mother is actually a very good cook, and I've always loved her spaghetti, and there are other recipes that mean "family" to us, but there's one that stands out overall that we do every year for Christmas in some form or other. Shortbread. My grandmother said once that she thought she got it from a church cookbook, or church friend. Easiest recipe in the world.
Ingredients:
1 lb butter
1 c brown sugar (firmly packed)
4 c flour (sifted)
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Cream butter and gradually add sugar. Once the two have been combined, add in the flour slowly, using your hands to knead it as the dough thickens. Once all three have been combined, turn it out onto a slightly floured board and knead slightly, then roll to ¼ inch thickness. Cut to desired shapes and decorate to suit, or cut into finger lengths ½ inch wide and prick with a fork 3-5 times per piece. Bake at 300 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes.
I hate getting messy, so any recipe that calls for hand-mixing is generally right out, but this is one I actually love doing, because the ingredients are so simple. Also, yes, that is a LOT of butter, but the recipe makes something like five or six dozen. Perfect for gifts for people who stop by or who you are going to see last minute. My mom and sister have tried a few different variations of this—mom even made a chocolate version last year that was quite delicious with cocoa powder.
March 8 — Did one of your female ancestors leave a diary, journal, or collection of letters? Share an entry or excerpt.
The only one I'm sure of is my paternal grandmother, Nana. We have a huge stack of letters between her and her sister (and a few other relations) over the years. I've loved reading them. We're especially lucky to have them because my aunt and uncle had a fire, and these were some of the things she managed to save, though they're a bit sooty and singed.
An Excerpt:
"Dear Marilyn,
Aunt Helga & Al were prompt in arriving but I was a little late. However, Helga is so adept at picking up where you left off the last time you saw her that we didn't waste a minute. They looked so good & were so cheerful! I was hung up in the airport parking lot which is being torn up for garages—the whole airport is being re-modeled—and the whole place at noon was as busy and crowded as I've ever seen the LA airport. It was the first time I've been there since [Marilyn's daughter] went home last summer. We'll be prepared when Helga & Al come back."
Al was my grandmother's father's brother, and she and her siblings had stayed with he and his wife Helga after their mother's death when they were just children. I love seeing how the connection stayed down through the years, and that she and my aunt stayed in such close touch with each other, despite living in Washington (my grandmother) and California (my aunt).
March 9 — Take a family document (baptismal certificate, passenger list, naturalization petition, etc.) and write a brief narrative using the information.
One of the most elusive documents in my family search was the Philadelphia Census on which my mother's father's mother's family appears. She was born there before the turn of the century, but we weren't sure when they moved there, or whether all her siblings had been born in the US or not. We knew they had lived in the states for a number of years, but had been told that the census document with their names had been burned in a fire where the records had been stored. So I despaired of ever finding it. Then, this past year, while looking through Family Search.org, I found a copy, and the wealth of information on the document has been a godsend.
When I found the 1900 Census last year, I was elated. Not only does it list the names of my great-grandmother and her living siblings at the time, but it told me that her mother had had two other children—the document asks how many children a woman has had, and how many are still living. We actually already had record of the other children before this, but having this document confirms how many, which is wonderful to have.
I also learned that my great-great grandparents had arrived about seventeen years before, according to the document, and that they were both naturalized in 1883, so the year they arrived, or shortly thereafter.
I do know that within another ten years, shortly after their final child's birth, the family all returned to Ireland. Work became too difficult for my great-great grandfather, and he hoped that returning to their former home would help him find better opportunities.
March 10 — What role did religion play in your family? How did your female ancestors practice their faith? If they did not, why didn’t they? Did you have any female ancestors who served their churches in some capacity?
Both sides of the family are so very different.
Dad was raised in a very non-religious household because his father was non-practicing Jewish after the war, and his mother stopped attending the Lutheran church after her mother's death in 1929. She did attend church while in school, because it was a requirement, but she said she picked a church (Methodist, if I recall correctly) at the time based on how simple it was to just sit and listen to the sermon.
My mother's side of the family was much more religious. I believe they were Methodist. I remember attending church with my grandparents when I stayed with them quite often. I do know that my grandmother and her mother and father all participated in choir as part of their regular church activities.
March 11 — Did you have any female ancestors who died young or from tragic or unexpected circumstances? Describe and how did this affect the family?
As I mentioned above twice, my paternal grandmother lost her mother when she was quite young. Oline Hansen was 42 when she died. She caught a respiratory illness which became pneumonia, and soon after, she died. My great-grandfather was devastated. His maternal aunt came to Cleveland for a few days to help, but after she returned to her home in New York, he moved his children in with his brother and sister-in-law, and set about building them a new home, not wanting to live in the house where she had died.
March 12 — Working girl: Did your mother or grandmother work outside the home? What did she do? Describe her occupation.
My paternal grandmother worked for my grandfather after he started his CPA office in the 60s. She worked as his secretary.
My mother has worked in a few different offices. Her longest stint was at Mutual Travel, which used to be a branch of Washington Mutual (I'm not sure if they survived the bank's collapse). She worked in their accounting department for many years before changing jobs.
Testimonal to the Howells
I should start this entry by saying I grew up in a non-religious home. My father's father was Jewish, but after they came to the states, and especially after the war, he didn't really practice his faith. His wife was Lutheran before her mother's death when she was 9, but after, her father had too much else on his mind to take his three children to church every Sunday, so she grew up in what basically became a non-religious household herself, only attending a Methodist church during her schooling because it was required by the school precepts that she attend some service or other on Sundays.
So when my mother married my father, he was already non-religious, and the two of them chose to raise their children the same way, even though she had been raised in a Methodist church her whole life to that point.
It's made things both easier and more difficult for me when it comes to religion—I've had the freedom to choose, and have experienced a few different churches over the years with friends and even been to synagogue several times. In the end, I chose no religion over settling into one. Mostly because of one particular bad experience (a subject not destined for this blog), but also because I have yet to find something that really shows faith the way I see it. As something personal between me and whatever is out there guiding the universe.
In some ways, you could say that Genealogy has become my religion. It's not. Not in the traditional sense. But I'm more inclined to let thoughts of what my ancestors might have done in this situation or that guide me in making my own choices, or helping me understand those choices better. Not that much different from how a traditional religion might guide one, after all.
But because of the above, I've never really felt the community of church. I didn't miss it, because I never had it, but stuff like the below transcripts surprises me because I just never think about the small bits that make up a church the way that someone who attended one all their life might.
I didn't even know this transcript existed until I received a copy from one of my mother's cousins. It was written to my great-great grandparents shortly before they left for Canada.
Presented by the Church, the congregation, and the Methodist community of PENUEL, Penrhiwceiber, South Wales.
Dear Brother and Friend.
We were very sorry to hear that you and your family are leaving us and going to Canada, and it would not be worthy of us as a church and congregation if we did not show some recognition of our affection and love towards you.
It is with satisfaction and joy that we present you with this testimonial as an expression of our gratitude for your hard work and excellent efforts in all religious areas.
We can at least express our opinion of you as a man of wisdom with a pleasant personality. We always found you true and honest in all your activities. We feel that you have outstanding ability as a Sunday School teacher in teaching the scriptures, and we can assure you, that those whom you taught have happy memories of your skill and dedication in revealing the beauty of the scriptures to them.
You carried out your work as superintendent of the Sunday School with faultfullness and regularity.
We would also like to acknowledge your work as treasurer and advisor to the Sunday School.
The fact that you have carried out these duties with distinction is proof that you are prepared to give your all in the teachings of the Lord.
We hope that you will not just be content with attaining this position, as doubtless you will carry on as we know there will be plenty, if not more service, needed in Canada than in the country you are about to leave.
Our wish is, in presenting you with this testimonial, and a hymn book to your wife and children, that you will enjoy many years of service, and that the light of heaven will shine upon you.
Therefore, dear brother, be sure and steadfast, and ever abundant with the Works of the Lord, and you will know that your efforts will not be in vain.
ON BEHALF OF THE COMMITTEE
Thos. J Edwards -- Minister (Preacher)
Ebenezer Morgan -- Chairman
David Davies -- Treasurer
Ebenezer Pughe -- Secretary
Penrhiwceiber March 1892
One of the treasures I received from my aunt after my grandmother passed this year was a huge sheaf of letters from my great aunt to her sister (my grandmother) and vice versa, along with other letters from other family members.
Every time I read one, I learn something new. So much to record. It will take me years to go through them all, but I was going through the documents this week looking for something else, and I found another letter that sheds light on my great-grandmother Oline's maternal grandfather, so I wanted to share it this week.
June 23, 1987
Dear Maggie and Sam:
We hope you are enjoying a lovely trip and visit to your Chicago family and an interesting Elderhostel experience. If the gods be with you, Chicago and the Midwest will not be sweltering in the dog days of high humidity, although lately they seem to be having a spell of it.
Maybe you know this, but Karen Fischetti will not be back in Chicago until July 18, if I remember correctly.
As for Uncle HANS, he still seems to be well and with it in spite of his age. It's really amazing that he doesn't seem to wander mentally or show any signs of such impairment. Evelyn thinks so too, according to her letter which I am enclosing. She does have her hands full with Elene and Marcel, doesn't she. Ingrid asked about Elene – she and Poul had met with her and Hans in 1973 but did not meet Marcel and Evelin. I tried to tell them that Elene is not in very good shape.
As far as I could fathom, the family in Denmark were very puzzled about the idea that Sophie's father had gone to Minnesota and had never heard of Oscar or Tina. I told them also that Hans had said Oline went to Minnesota and Northwood, Iowa, first when she came to America in 1914. Then someone came up with the story of the coffee urn that someone gave to Sophie, and they laughed about it as if it were a bit of family scandal – as if this fellow went away to America and left her "a little present." I took that to mean he left her pregnant – and I think Karen even understood it that way. The following week we all had dinner with cousin Katherine and she had the urn, polished to a fare-thee-well and displayed atop a china cupboard. In our strange way of communicating, she said something like "Farvel, Sophie, versagod," handing her the urn. Sophie said Farvel to her son Herman, and handed him the urn with Versagod. And Herman handed it to someone else when he died, and now Katherine has it.
I gave the local historian Mr. Hansen, two more jobs to do: 1) to verify Oline's birth date, and 2) to verify the business of Sophie's father homesteading in America.
What we need from Uncle Hans is more specific information about Sophie's father in Minnesota: What his name was, the location (town name) of his farm, something clearer about the relationships of Oscar and Tina both to Hans and to Sophie, and anything else you can come up with.
There seem to have been many Danes in that area of the country. Quite coincidentally, that is the area where Ingrid's husband Poul had two brothers who made their fortunes in farming. One of them, Axel Hansen, died a millionaire, but his kids have already spent all the money. Of course this was said with some disapproval. His other brother, Kai, still lives in Clinton, Iowa, but Axel and Kai had farmed in Albert Lea, Minn., and Northwood, Iowa, two names Uncle Hans had mentioned repeatedly. When Ingrid and Poul visited in 1949, everyone on the streets spoke Danish, it seemed, but that is not the case any longer.
The fact that the family in Fjenneslev do not know about Sophie's father having gone to Minnesota might simply be because they have not been very much interested in keeping tract of the family until I came along trying to trace my roots. Now they are all hot for the subject and doing their best to come up with information.
It has now come back to my memory that someone was speculating on the possibility that Sophie had been left an orphan and was "farmed out" to live with another family. It seemed possible that her father abandoned the family to go to America, make some money, and send tickets home for the family to join him and then never did. That seemed to have been the case in numerous instances in those days. I know from Tante Margrethe telling me that that was the plan when Uncle Jack preceded her to America, and everyone in Denmark told her that she'd never see him again. Luckily, he kept his word and did send for her and the children.
Well, if you can make head or tail of this gibberish, I congratulate you. I shall be writing to Uncle Hans very soon and will try to put a bee in his bonnet that will start him thinking about this mystery so you can glean from him what you can.
Our weather in Idyllwild is gorgeous and I have gotten over jet lag. A and B are in their new home and painting it; M and D will move into theirs the weekend of the Danskefest picnic (July 11) so will not be able to attend. But Norman Kirk and his new wife may be with us.
Thanks again for your newsy letter, and have a good time. My love to Uncle Hans.
Marilyn
Handwritten on the last page by my grandmother:
Grandfather Olsen came here w/brother who married a ? + children were Tina and Oskar.
Homestead in Kassen Co in Minn.
20 mi N of Albert Lea.
Died when Hans was little.
So, when I add this to what I have from their conversation with Hans before, and what little I've been able to glean from online records, it sounds as though Sophie was either abandoned, or her mother died when she was young, and/or she was sent off to be a farmgirl to another family, which was the custom in Denmark at the time.
Sounds like this is why I had no information on her parents, given the fact that people tend to not talk about these sorts of scandals while anyone touched by them is still alive.
Doesn't conform the parents I have for certain from the records on Family Search: Birthe Marie Schrøder and Ole Larsen, but it gets me closer to certain that I have the right ones.
Also sounds as though Tina and Oskar/Oscar were the brother's children, and not a new wife Ole married.
Still, always exciting to get more information!
Holger Hansen
My great-grandfather, Holger Hansen, lived from 1891 to 1977. I have one vague memory of going to the airport with my grandmother to pick him up for a visit. It was likely the last visit he ever made here to the Northwest. I'm actually lucky enough to have several photos of myself with him, though I have only vary vague recollections of that one visit.
His has always been the line most thoroughly researched in my family tree, because my grandmother and her sister spent a great deal of time with their extended family, visiting during the war, and continued those visits long after, including a family get-together for a time down in California in Idyllwild where my aunt lived.
Despite this, though, I really didn't know much about him until I started to research a paper on my grandmother and her mother for a Women's Studies class at the University of Washington. And even after that, I didn't know a whole lot more. This year, I've finally begun to truly learn who he was from the papers my grandmother left behind. Stories about her father, her mother, her life.
This was part of a letter my grandmother got from her sister shortly after their father's death in 1977. The first is the letter to her, the second the piece my aunt wrote up, and the third an article by my aunt's husband about my great-grandfather and another of their relations.
I believe that the TC she is referring to in her letter was the Paper she and her husband ran—the local Idyllwild newspaper.
Feb 1 [ed: 1978, I believe]
Maggie –
A quick note the accompany these papers—which I mislaid.
We have an inquiry on the TC. Lu is eager.
M had a marvelous Christmas trip—Randers and then France, Austria and Switzerland. She + Tina swam where Mark Spitz won all his medals! Then she came home to a pile of mail, too much about 3 family deaths ("Now I don't have any grandparents" she wailed) plus the death of a Swedish friend. Poor kid. She keenly feels what can happen in a short time, especially if you go away.
Personnel changes again at TC. I changed past-up artists—the old one went to Vegas. Lu's asst, the reporter-photog John Ponce is moving to bigger things next week. A new printer starts Monday, + tomorrow Jan Hansen, of our front office goes to the hospital for a week—knee surgery. When it rains it pours.
I got a perm + a short hair cut + feel much better. Also a new suit + shoes!! Lu got a new suit, too.
Rain, rain, rain. No snow. Are you skiing?
Marilyn
untitled – by Marilyn Hansen Weare
A person's lifetime is his legacy in the way he touches other peoples' lives or changes the course of events, great or small. I would like to recount the course of my father's life and be glad that we knew him rather than to mourn that we have lost him.
Holger Hansen lived 86 years, was a citizen of two nations and was loyal to both. He married twice – to Oline and to Rose – and outlived them both. He fathered three children, Margaret, me (Marilyn) and Torben and was stepfather to Rose's two daughters, Ruth and LaVerne.
Dad was born on a farm in Denmark, one of 9 children of very poor parents. Karen Margrethe Fischetti, Dad's niece, recounted a story that she learned from a grand aunt of ours, Dagmar. When Dad was little, perhaps about 5, he was very ill with pneumonia. His mother carried him in her arms several miles into town to the hospital – they were so poor there wasn't even a cart for the trip. When Dad was well enough to leave the hospital, he went to live with his grandmother nearby until he was strong enough to walk home. His aunt Dagmar was still at home then and remembers that Holger was such a nice little boy that his grandmother wanted him to stay, and she kept him for 5 years.
Home with his parents on the farm later, Dad was given the duty of tending the milk cows when he was old enough – to take them out to pasture in the morning and tether them and bring them in at night. He had the opportunity for schooling until he was 14 and then his father taught him his own trade – that of being a mason, or bricklayer. They did small jobs together – basements, chimneys, etc – around their little town of Thyregod, and then, about 1912 or 1913 good fortune struck. The railroad line was extended to Thyregod and Dad and Grandpa got the contract to build the station. That gave my father enough money to buy his passage to America in 1914. I once asked him how much money he needed, and he thought it was about $50 for the boat fare and $25 in his pocket when he reached Ellis Island. Dad said his only requirement for entry to the United States then was that $25 in his pocket and the ability to read – in Danish. The inspector gave him a book in Danish and had him read just a few lines.
Dad did not know a bit of English and had to learn the language after he came to the United States. But he had an aunt and uncle in New York – Jorgen (or "Jack") and Margrethe Isaaksen. They were doing well in this country, and their example encouraged dad to come to the United States, for greater opportunity. And he found it. Dad was able to find work and save enough money to return to Denmark for a visit in 1916.
In later years, I visited Tante Margrethe and Uncle Jack many times when I was a WAC in Washington, DC. One time they said to me, "Your father was the nicest, the finest and the most pleasant young man we have ever known, even taking into account our own 2 fine sons."
On that first trip back home, Dad met Oline Hansen, a young Danish woman who had been working in Chicago and was also returning to her home in Denmark for a visit. But in 1916 the United States had entered World War I and travel back to the US was prohibited for six months, so Dad had a chance to court Oline in Denmark.
When Dad returned to the United States he could not find work in New York. Hearing there were jobs in Cleveland, he moved here. Oline left her Chicago domestic job and took work in Cleveland as a seamstress. They were married in 1918 and made Cleveland their home. Dad became a contractor, bought a few lots and built and sold several homes. His young brother Alfred came over from Denmark to try his luck in the land of opportunity. Neils Kirk was one of his pals, and another was Otto Nielsen, 10 years his junior and now a part of our Danish family clan in California. Otto told me that he worked for my Dad in those early years in Cleveland, and he said to me, "He was fun to work for – Holger could always see the funny side of a situation."
And that reminds me of an evening about 20 years ago in my home in California. Dad and Mom were visiting, so I invited their old friends in for the evening. Neils Kirk, Otto Neilsen, Alfred and Holger were together at the table reminiscing about their youth in the old Country, and they fell to talking about shoes – or the lack of them. Of course, they said, they could easily go barefoot in the summer, but if they had no winter boots, they simply tied straw around their feet and made out that way – but Oh! it was so darned cold! – and the men began to laugh so hard they rocked in their chairs. They could see a funny side to a situation.
I loved to watch my father lay bricks. I remember the grace of his movements, his large strong hands holding the bricks, the choreographed, rhythmic way he used his pointed trowel to dip and smooth the cement, the clear sound of the tapping of his trowel to trim a brick or to settle it into place. He was an artisan.
Oline died in 1928 and Dad married again later. He married Rose Basch, and she and her daughters, Ruth and LaVerne, merged with us into a large family of 7. Then the depression struck, and the difficult years that followed were a struggle for everyone. With Rose's business acumen and ability to work hard, they weathered those years, and we always had food on the table.
When I called my cousin Elsa Sunday night to tell her Dad had passed away, she wept and said, "He was such a GOOD man."
And so he is remembered – fondly and generously as a good man, a nice person, a fun-loving fellow, a master at his craft – overlooking his human failings (and of course he had them) and leaving a legacy of so much good will that we are happy his life was part of ours.
My husband and I own and publish a small weekly newspaper in California. Luther writes a column of his personal observations, and I read the galley of his column for this week's paper before I left for Cleveland. Luther's family also lost one of its members over the holidays, and in his column Luther Sums up so much of what I feel, too. I would like to share it with you.
HEAR YE
Death struck our family twice, not unexpectedly, over the holiday. In each case a lesson could be derived for the rest of us.
My nephew lived under a two-year death sentence from leukemia. What does one do under such circumstances? Some of us fear that we would fall apart emotionally, but it has been my observation that that usually does not happen. Nature provides us with strength and emotional resources we normally are unaware of. And so this youngish man lived his last two years with gusto and enthusiasm. His seeming good cheer made us cheerful. He gave us an example of grace under terrible pressure. We in turn had the opportunity to express our affection and to say goodbye – something that is denied to those who lose loved ones by sudden accident.
The lesson Richard taught me is to accept life's tragedies as well as triumphs and not feel sorry for oneself.
(left - Holger Hansen sometime after 1919)
My father-in-law was an old man whose work was done. A north European farm boy, he had come to the United States as a young man – one of the millions of post-World War I European emigrants who still envisioned America as a promised land. He had a trade and a strong body and he was willing to work. That was all that America asked of her new citizens; in return she promised rewards, and lived up to the promise.
He saw good times here and bad, as most of us have, but on balance it was good and he lived out his days in comfort. When his time came, it was the passing of an era. He was the stuff of which this great country has been made and he did his work well. He showed us that life provided opportunities for those who are capable of seizing them.
My wife is in Ohio, gone there to bury him. But she plans no mournful farewell service. Rather she pictures his passing as the completion of a story and she wants to celebrate his life. He and millions like him helped to make this nation great.
(Left: Holger surrounded by the three generations following him: his daughter to his left, his grandson and great-granddaughter to the right)
God rest your souls, Richard Perkins, who gave us an unforgettable example of gallantry, and Holger Hansen, who made us understand what America is all about.
LW (Luther Weare)
(Segments of the above article were read at Holger's memorial service, according to the notes on my copy.)
A letter from AP Holly to his daughter Alice Holly
Santa Fe
Eating House and Dining Car System
Fred Harvey, Manager
La Junta, Colorado
8 – 31 – 35
Dear Alice –
Evening, Got here 4 pm from home to Trinidad everything is mountains. Trinidad is 6000 feet up. From there east no mountains. Start descending to plains. La Junta is on a vast plain.
When evening comes the old impelling, compelling, insistent, demanding call to go back home where a fellow belongs. No matter how old I get, how old the children grow or what else may be true, that one call will ever grow stronger, I try my durndest to “hesh it up” but it licks me every time.
Hoping you are the same
Dad
A letter from AP Holly to his daughter Alice Holly when she was a Junior in High School
Ramona, California - 1935
Alanson in Ramona, California - 1937
Dear Cabin Fireplace,-
Have you seen anything lately of a young lady we left in charge of the ranch? If so, what was she doing? Has she been running away from school? Has she forgotten that pony out there in the barn? I believe the pony's name is Gypsie, if my recollection serves me correctly. What have you been doing there all alone for hours at a time? How does it seem to sit there bolt upright with nothing to eat for such long periods? And indeed it is no small eater you are too. Your mouth is as big as a whale's, or even bigger; anyhow I kno you have swallowed many a valuable log without so much as a spell of hiccoughs. I have thought at times calling in a doctor to diagnose your case and then, if possible, to recommend a palliative. Then again I have always relented, for, indeed, you have fully paid for all you have eaten, many times over; for what or who could ever take your place? Oh the happy, happy times we have all had there in the evening as we have talked and laughed and played! When all the children have been at home – then is the best time. Once in a while, the last year or two, I am sad to say, there have been evenings when not one of the children have been sitting by you, with us, and when that happens why I just look into your deep heart of fire and you seem to understand for you make images of the children, one by one, --- there is Elizabeth as she used to be and as she is now with her own little ones – there is Bud bringing home jack-knives he used to find by the dozen – there is Mary coming home from town so full of good cheer and happiness – and Helen hitching up Mickey to the cart – Forrest jumping over a twelve foot pole and Alice ironing her clothes. Old fireplace, you kno all about what's going on and you adapt yourself to our moods, as, indeed, all good fireplace should do. I will confess that there have been times when you were not at all hungry but I have fed you just the same; plenty of evenings when the cabin would have been warm enough without your help but when I would look over at you, all cold, you seemed out of the picture and I am sure that, more then once, I distinctly heard you say, “Hey Boss, have a heart; throw me a stick or two, light me up so that I may have a share in what's going forward.” And what a feast is in store for you when we get home; because there must be an accumulation of papers without end. But I have a sneaking notion that on Sundays since we have been away you have not been entirely forgotten. Now look here old top, mind you take good care of the present ranch boss in my absence for if you let anything happen to her, I warn you,, I will blow you to bits.
With the deepest affection,
Boss
Daytona, Florida
February 17 38
A letterfrom AP Holly to Holly and Alice Walpole
Written to Holy and Alice Walpole when our family lived in Sunset Cliffs
Please tell your Pa and Ma that they kno best what to do about coming home this summer and I shall agree with them in any decision. Meanwhile you mall all kno that if you all were to come so that ll our 6 children could be with us once more and our grandbabies too it would fill our cup of joy to overflowing. Your grandmother is not able to take an auto ride any distance east to meet you.
Now – where are those two boys? If you girls catch 'em failing to do the dishes and sweep the floors and run the errands just summon the cops and have them apprehended.
Out here hard times have caused honey raisers to cross their bees with lightening bugs so they will work all night too.
Helen is such a big beautiful girl, bigger than her beautiful sister Mary. Alice will be big too. Forrest has big feet anyhow.
Warm weather, myriads of flowers with their fragrance, the ocean, this fairy home are too lovely to describe. The mountains, orange trees, lemons, dates, avocados, olives, Eng. Walnuts, almonds, eucalyptus, acacias, and others past numbering surfeit one's capacity for enjoying. But after all there is rarest charm in your early crocus peeping courageously thro the last covering of snow, the modest violet in shady retreats, the tulips, apple blossoms, peach and cherry blossoms, wild daisies and buttercups and all the flowers of your latitude that never venture down this way. You kids will be like your mother who has always been awake to beauty everywhere.
Tuesday evening the children got hold of my scrap-books containing little letters my own children had sent me years ago, pictures of them and their playmates, letters that some little sweet-hearts had sent them, and such fun we did have. It was in that big front room looking toward the ocean seven hundred feet down the mountain The fireplace was cheery and warm and Cousin Ned was here. Some one read a little note aloud from some first-grader to Helen declaring his eternal fidelity and you should have seen Helen blush then try to hide her pretty face behind a geometry book.
Two paraquetts (I named Cecil & Sally) are in the sunny patio with the two canaries close by the fountain where the gold fish dart about in great fun. The birds sing much. Once in a while a road-runner or a quail or mocking bird comes by to pay them a visit.
O – O – here come the girls from school – the little car halts near the garage out jump the hungry school girls, run down the patio steps and with one hop and two jumps are in the kitchen with designs on the food in the refrigerator. All talk at once and its fun to see and hear them. The telephone rings no longer for he old folks – we have no business answering its ring – for if we did it would only be to hear -- “Is Mar there”? Or Helen or Forrest or Alice.
“Who is really Boss in your house?” asked the abrupt person. “Well” replied Mr Meek “Of course Henrietta assumes command of the pug-dog and canary, but I can say pretty much what I like to the gold fish.” So it is in our house.
Now seven pm. Alice washing dishes. All will listen soon to Frank Waternobbe and the Hon Arthur Chizzlebury – to me the funniest ever.
Hoping you are the same
Grandad
Letters written by AP Holly between 1921-1923
The following letters were probably sent from Indianapolis, Indiana to Bristol, Indiana the home of Grandmother Barbour. It appears Mabel was visiting her Mother with Lance (Bud), Mary, Forrest and Alice, between 1921 – 1923.
Dear Bud,-
Received your letter and I am glad you arrived in good order and that they all seemed glad to see you. The caddies at the course ask about where you are and why you don't show up. We hired no caddy yesterday and did not lode a ball either. I bought a couple of fifty cent balls. We may try a game of tennis this afternoon.
You may be learning that is has taken most of us years to find out that the real way in which to get happiness is to give it to others. Unselfishness is always followed by its sister called “happiness” and there are many ways in which you now have the chance to be unselfish; there is Grandma who lives alone and whose children are all gone away from her and she is a very unselfish woman herself and she would do anything for you and for your folks; there is your Mother who has done more for you than all other folks in the world combined and to whom you more than to all others; there is Mary, your sister, who needs a big brother and his kindness; there is Forrest who looks to his big brother for a great deal and Alice who needs your love and care.
I know you will have a nice time.
You Dad.
Dear Mary,-
The roses are blossoming now and look very pretty indeed; but they cannot look quite so pretty to your Dad with you away.
I think that your playmates miss you. Guess that Nonnie wishes you were home. Nonnie shot off a big firecracker this morning and woke up her big sister.
You are probably very thankful because you have been able to take such a fine trip. You see that you are being rewarded for being such a faithful baby tender.
Your Dad.
Dear Forrest,-
How you spect your Dad is going to get along without his curly head to run down the street after him when he is coming home?
The little bicycle is asleep on the front veranda and every once in a while when he wakes up he asks me “Where is my little brown faced playmate, I do miss him so. He just runs me over bumps in the sidewalk and makes my back tire come of and leaves me out on the front steps all night too, but I do like him and wish he would come home.”
Ester plays in the sand all alone, now that you have gone.
Your Dad.
Dear Alice,-
Every evening the fairies come and peep in at your bed room window and when they see that you are not there they fly around to my window and call to me and say “Where is our little Fairy Alice Janette?” I tell them that you have gone way off to the land of your Mother's Fairy days, there where she lives again her childhood dreams by the side of the beautiful old St Joe. One little Fairy stole in at the window last night and sat right on my old bald head close up to my left ear and he put his little fingers up on the edge of it and whispered and said that really there could be no use in their returning until their little Fairy Alice had come home again. They promised to send a little Fairy-messenger once in a while to find out when you are coming home.
Tell Grandma that when she looks at you she may know that even though there have been pretty hard burdens for her to carry at times through life, she is well paid for is she not your Ma's Ma?
Your Dad.