A trip to Eidsfjorden To See Where My Mother Was Born

Great news to share with you. The first reviews are coming in.

A Febøring at the dock in Sildpollen

A Febøring at the dock in Sildpollen

The story continues. Just to remind to the readers that these little background stories are not a rehash of the book, but rather about how the book came to be. Over the next year I continued writing and editing the manuscript over and over again. Along with this came the sorting of the photographs my father had taken before WWII and a few photographs my mother had gotten taken by one of the best known photographers in Oslo, as well a few snapshots I had. These photographs had to be scanned, properly edited and cropped. There was also undressing dolls to verify construction from what I remembered and also assessing when they were made.  The came setting up to photograph the dolls I had, as well as I could borrow. This was no small task. I wanted the quality and feel of the photographs to be similar to the ones my mother and father had worked on, to reflect how they wanted these dolls to be presented. I needed appropriate lighting and proper background paper or cloth. I was able to borrow on extended load professional lighting equipment from a photographer friend. There were interminable trips to the fabric stores to find cloth of appropriate color, shade and texture. I had given up on paper, since it became too expensive for my use since I needed more than one color. The cost per roll was prohibitive. Then came photographing, re-photographing and sometimes re-photographing more times than I care to remember. Long evenings; one after the other. I learned a lot more than I will ever need to know again. By the time I was done with the first round and had placed photographs within the text and had a copy printed out, I realized the photographs were too dark and needed to be redone. Long evenings stretched interminably into weeks. By then my photo lighting equipment became unavailable and I decided to buy my own. These came with daylight, energy saving bulbs, which gave wholly different lighting and I had to learn anew how to use the set up. In the end though they proved to give better lit photographs. In early 2009 an email came from Adrian Skogmo in Sortland, Vesterålen, a hop skip and a jump from where my mother was born. Each year they had a Herring Festival in Sildpollen across Eidfjorden from Selnes where she was born and he was the organizer for the event. Would I consider come to speak about my mother at the festival.  It sounded intriguing, but funds were not available for such a trip at that time and my back was getting worse. Such was the situation for most of 2009 and well into 2010. By summer 2010 my back had worsened so significantly that in early fall surgery was scheduled. It went off without any problems and I was recovering when the second invitation to come to Vesterålen  was issued and I made the decision to go to Norway the following summer. This I decided was to be my consolation, my carrot to make the most of my recovery, a reward for being a such a good sport. The arrangement to go was made and in early 2011 I bought the tickets. I was very excited to visit my mother’s birth place. What an exciting trip it proved to be, but that is for the next installment.

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How The Book Came To Be; The Continuing Story

Three girls from Hardanger

Three girls from Hardanger

The story continues. Just to remind to the readers that these little background stories are not a rehash of the book, but rather about how the book came to be.

The summer of 2006 in Norway was beautiful, with warm days and long summer evenings. One evening I had dinner with a cousin I hadn’t seen for years. He had recently turned 94. We had been invited to another cousins who had an apartment around the corner from where I grew up and it was wonderful to catch up after all that time. I had long wanted to pick his brain about our family’s history and now I had to make the most of it. Because of failing eyesight he could no longer write, email or …, What a treasure it was to sit there with him and watch him remember as he told me about my parents from the years before the war; the first years of getting the new business going. He could even tell me how many people they already had working for them. A treasure trove of information on the whole family history way back to his uncles and aunts growing up in the north. I remember feeling so very lucky. He also had many amusing stories to tell from my father’s learning to speak Norwegian, something my father mastered extremely well in a relatively short period of time. When we left I had to chuckle as I worked to keep up with him. My cousin skipped down the stairs from the fourth floor and lightly danced up the street on the way to the tram with me trailing behind.

With the changes in the streets scape in my old neighborhood, I also went to Oslo’s City Museum and the staff were helpful in digging up old photos of the buildings on our block and information on the history of the street. Along with the development of the neighborhood had also been the tearing down of the old Rosenborg Movie theater, which had had two long murals depicting our street with some houses dating back to the mid 1700. What a pity it was to have such a bit of history lost.

Once home, I had a great deal of information to add and now the real work began to write it all down in a coherent story. Having never written anything like this before, I enlisted the help of my daughter, Karen Green, who was a wonderful writer as well as sculptor. For a while we worked together and I was so grateful for her insights and critiques, myself being far to close to the subject to be able to have enough perspective. Eventually, the demands of her own work of building her and her husband’s business as weathervane makers had to take precedence, but I was enough on the way to be able to see the story as a story with more objectivity.

In the fall of 2008 the economic crisis hit and it became necessary to focus on my work as a practitioner of Chinese Medicine. While the book project was never shelved, it got less focus. Also an old back injury resurfaced with vengeance and over the next two-three years this is where most of my energy went. However I worked on the book whenever I had time. I had become increasingly interested in my mother’s family’s background. I fortunately had quite a bit of genealogical information from an uncle, Anslem. One Sunday I was idly searching the internet and came across a website of a historian in the Vesterålen area. I emailed him, not sure if the website was still active, but three hours later on a beautiful sunny summer Sunday I got a reply from Johan Borgos which read; “I know who you are, you are the daughter of Rønnaug”. He knew my whole family and some hours later sent me my grandmother’s genealogy back to the 1600s. Wow, I was completely blown away. An idle question begetting so much information. So now some of my focus began centering on tracing my family, I wanted to know who they were, where they lived, what they did, what kind of lives they lived, what kind of people they were. I set my findings up on Ancestry.com and eventually also traced my grandfather’s family as far as I could and that of my own father as well. I felt it was important to know as much as I could about our background, to create a perspective on who we were, what kind of stock we came from.

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