65° - 01.09.1967, Blaðsíða 11

up the eleven wagon train. They were eleven out
of many thousands who creaked their lonely way
across the face of America primarily in the latter
half of the 19th Century.
They lived in isolation as they built their com-
munities, their schools, their churches, their roads,
their government.
Whether they were Dutch, German, Norwegian,
Swedes or Icelanders they brought with them their
own Bibles and often their own pastors or priests.
They often maintained their churches and
schools in their own languages. They established
their own newspapers printed in their native
tongues. Only a handful exist today.
My father coming from Norway in the late 19th
century at the age of 20 attended an academy and
later St. Olaf College where much of the instruc-
tion was in Norwegian. Both institutions were
only two of the several sponsored by the Nor-
wegian Lutheran Church in America. I mention
the Norwegians especially because I am best
acquainted with their history.
Parallel experiences are the history of practical-
ly every other national group. Slight variants
occur depending on region of settlement or their
decade of arrival.
Several factors contributed to the development
of the vigorous adherence to isolationism. They
are too complex to deal with in a short article
such as this. The fact of the matter is that it
existed to a very pronounced degree —
With the advent of World War II and when
many of these national groups saw their home-
lands over-run, their mother churches debauched,
and cruelties imposed on their ancient cultures —
especially in the smaller nations — a reversal of
feeling began to take place.
To speed the process a new age group of leaders
sprang up in the major political parties and our
cultural institutions. Most, though not all, were
men and women born in the Twentieth Century.
They merged the old with the new.
They recognized in the day of atomic energy,
jet propulsion, space travel and sophisticated
modern communication that they too must have
their window to the world — a large, open win-
dow.
In many ways this too has been a part of the
history of Iceland. No less an authority than
President Asgeirsson said, “Our small nation was
isolated for centuries in the middle of the Atlan-
tic, out of sight and touch with other lands, some-
what like the people of the Midwest, who did not
see the oceans. Like the Midwesterners, we tended
to believe in the security of isolation.” Then he
went on to say, “No country can be isolated and
self-sufficient in time of crisis. Friendly relations
and security arrangements are necessary under
present conditions. The lesson of the Second
Worl War should certainly not be forgotten. Short
memory is a serious fault.”
Socially, economically, historically and cultural-
ly coming from the Midwest we have then, it
seems to me, had many similar experiences.
As we descended through the brilliant early
morning sunlit sky over Iceland and landed at
Keflavik on May 4 we weren’t quite aware of all
I have written. Gradually the answers begin to
surface. Sometimes we find the wrong one — or
have to sift through several before we find the
correct one.
Perhaps even some of the conclusions touched
on here are in error — only time can tell.
Of one thing both my wife and I are sure —
the Icelandic people must rank with the warmest
and friendliest.
Just three days after our arrival my wife was
taken suddenly very ill. Hospitalized, as she was
for three weeks, we discovered their concern and
compassion. Messages and flowers came from
many quarters — a great number from people
we had never seen nor met.
Yes, the Rolvaags enjoy Iceland. You have
made us feel at home.
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