Árdís - 01.01.1966, Blaðsíða 54

52
ÁRDÍS
Whither Thou Goest
INGIBJORG S. GOODRIDGE
“Whither thou goest, I will go: whither thou lodgest, I will
lodge.” These unforgettable words of Ruth, spoken so long ago to
Naomi, came unbidderx to mind while looking at some old pictures
of Icelandic pioneers.
We, the descendents of the pioneers, have grown up with the
knowledge that our forebears came to this country many years
ago, that they settled in various parts of this vast land, grew old
and died, leaving us a legacy of honesty, integrity and industry.
We also point with a certain amount of pride to the fact that,
although poor, the pioneers never lost their love of books, of
poetry and prose, acknowledged the necessity of learning and
were, in fact, a highly intellectual race. We further concede that
they endured many hardships and difficulties and surmounted
them admirably.
It is very doubtful that any of us, the granddaughters and
possibly the great-granddaughters of the pioneer Icelandic immi-
grants have given a thought to just what this mass migration to
America entailed. Might it not be enlightening for us to pause a
moment in this day of plenty and think on our forebears.
Iceland was at the time a poor, underprivileged country, as
were many of the European countries of that era. It had for some
vears around about 1870 suffered much from natural disasters.
Truly, times were hard. True, there were volcanic eruptions, with
the accompanying rain of ash, so death-dealing to man and beast:
true, the northern and eastern coasts had been plagued by the
nearness of mighty icebergs and floes, which pushed aside the
much needed summer warmth and prevented the growth of the
precious fodder for the stock, as well as the growth of foodstuffs.
The country’s economy was in the hands of foreign overseers,
it was not a land of promise for those who wished the best
for their children. The future was gloomy and forboding indeed.
But, it was familiar, it was where the loved ones were, it was
very dear, it was home.