Lögberg-Heimskringla - 01.10.2018, Side 10

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10 • Lögberg-Heimskringla • October 1 2018
What is a place? In the
most simple terms, a
place is a geographic
location. In genealogical records,
a place could be a street address,
a farm, a parish, or a larger
area such as a valley, county,
state, or province. Along with
dates, names, and relationships,
these geographic elements are
crucial to tracing genealogical
linkages to the past.
Places, however, are
far more than just locations
associated with births, deaths,
marriages, or other events.
Places are where we live our
lives! Whether a rural town, a
city block, a suburban street,
or a small turf hut on an
Icelandic farm, these places are
meaningful because they are
where we work and play and
experience life. The same was
true for our ancestors.
At Icelandic Roots, we
go beyond simple dates and
times, and strive to tell stories.
The photos, community
histories, maps, and more in
our genealogy database are how
we tell these stories. Among
these resources, our interactive
mapping capability is a feature
of which we are particularly
proud.
Our maps work by digitally
plotting key places using
Google maps. With our system,
users can see a satellite image
of locations for the key events
in a person’s life. For each
plotted farm or town, one can
view the geographic coordinates
and use them to travel to the
site and see it in person. Many
of our members utilize this
feature to visit ancestral farms
during trips to Iceland, where
place names can be particularly
difficult for Western Icelanders
to understand. We often include
farm and church photos, too,
so that members can get a real
sense of the places where their
ancestors lived without the
expense of international travel.
Maps also give us the
unique ability to visualize
historic migration patterns as
our ancestors moved from place
to place due to changing climate
and economic conditions. In
Iceland, these factors often
contributed toward decisions to
emigrate. In North America, we
can also see patterns as people
moved westward. Seeing the
farms and parishes plotted
on a single map makes these
patterns much easier for us to
see and appreciate.
Places are vital to our
study of genealogy. In addition
to giving us clues to finding
historic records, locations can
also help define the conditions
under which our ancestors lived.
We hope you’ll take advantage
of geographic information,
such as the maps feature in the
Icelandic Roots database, to
explore, to visit, and to reflect
upon the sense of place that is
such a vital component of our
shared Icelandic heritage.
Douglas Hanson
Richmond, VA
Each day offers us opportunities to
build our own legacy – something
that lives beyond our time here
on Earth. For some, that legacy stems
from an influential career or community
leadership role. For others, it may as a
loving parent and grandparent or having
a kind, generous and resilient spirit that
inspires others.
Genealogy is more than names, dates
and family relationships. For those deep
into genealogy, it is the quest to discover
legacies. What made our ancestors tick?
What inferences can be made about them
through the stories and information we can
uncover? Can meaningful connections
emerge between their lives and legacies
and our own character and personality?
Let me briefly describe the legacy of
my great-grandmother Jóhanna Guðný
Helga Sveinsdóttir, at least as I see it,
through some of her life story. In 1881,
at 21 years of age, she left Stakkagerði
on Vestmannaeyjar as an yngisstúlka
(young woman; unattached) for Utah.
She had been left behind and was the
last of three generations of her family
to emigrate. Her grandmother, Guðný
Erasmusdóttir, had emigrated in 1857
with the first small band of emigrants and
her parents, siblings and cousins had all
bid her farewell prior at various years to
1881.
Great joy must have reigned once
she arrived in Utah and the entire family
was finally reunited. Even her aged
amma Guðný, whom she’d never met,
was alive to share the joy. Those hugs
and tears must have lasted a long time.
But for Jóhanna, the joy was short-lived.
She soon learned her fare to America
was borrowed from Samúel Bjarnason in
exchange for a promise by her father that
Jóhanna would marry Samúel, 36 years
her senior, as his third wife in a plural
marriage arrangement. By December
1881, she was transported 250 miles
from her family to St. George, Utah,
and married to him. What must she have
thought on that long journey?
Little is known of her time with
Samúel and his other wives. But by
1883 she secured a divorce – a rare
feat anywhere in those days, let alone
in Utah’s engulfing Mormon culture. In
1884, while working in a sheep-shearing
ranch in the mountains of Utah, she fell
in love with a Danish man, Jens Peter.
From this union with Jens comes her only
known living descendants, including me.
She would leave the Mormon faith
and eventually become a Presbyterian –
again a rarity in small Cleveland, Utah,
where her family grew. On May 1, 1900,
the Scofield Coal Mine explosion killed
200 workers. Interestingly, there was one
Icelandic emigrant working that day – a
young man Gunnar Þórarinsson who had
just married his love three months earlier.
But I digress. That’s one of those all-too-
common genealogical tangents we easily
follow, like falling into a vortex.
Jóhanna was an accomplished
seamstress and her husband Jens a
carpenter. For days, they labored, joining
with others in the community to respond
to the crisis. Jóhanna made burial clothes
for many miners, perhaps even Gunnar’s,
and Jens built many coffins.
Stories of Jóhanna, or any of your
ancestors, could fill pages. It just takes
a little digging. But what are my take-
aways of Jóhanna’s legacy to me 90 years
after her death? Even though I never met
her, I admire her ability to endure (and
perhaps appreciate) solitude, find her
voice, and resist cultural norms to create
a path of her own choosing.
Her legacy lives on through me –
I appreciate alone times, continue to
strengthen my own meaningful voice,
create my unique path in life, and work
to better my community.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my
volunteer research with Icelandic Roots
for those I discover who died young
or never had biological descendants.
Few today know of their existence let
along care about the legacy they built
while walking our planet? I too have no
children and wonder what bits of legacy
I’m building that will endure after my
final bow. My work with Icelandic Roots
is a legacy piece for me, even when it
focuses on uncovering and documenting
other families’ lines and legacies I have
no real connection to. What is your life
legacy project?
DISCOVERING LEGACIES AND BUILDING OUR OWN
David Johnson
Seattle, WA
PHOTO: DOUGLAS HANSON
The abandoned farmstead at Másstaðir, Vatnsdalur, Austur-Húnavatnssýsla
PHOTO: STEFAN JONASSON
The sculpture Tröllskessan (Giantess) by Ásmundur Sveinsson stands on
the site of the farmstead Stakkagerði, where Jóhanna Sveinsdóttir lived
before emigrating to Utah
The importance of place