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By Robert Isleifson I was born in the early thirties in the town of Glenboro in southern Manitoba, another “Goolie” joining the community. I’ve heard many stories about the origin and meaning of this term, but I still don’t know why those of us with Icelandic names were called Goolies. If anyone has the answer, please enlighten me! The one regret I have about my childhood is that I didn’t become fluent in Icelandic. Such an opportunity wasted. But when you’re young and there are games to be played, who wants to be labeled as just another Goolie? Still, I felt there was something special about having a father who’d come from Iceland. When I heard my Uncle Stone (Steini) and my dad talk about coming to Canada from Iceland, I developed a keen interest in my Icelandic heritage. Joining the Icelandic Canadian Club of Western Manitoba and the INLNA and receiving Hálfdan Helgason’s newsletters helped keep the interest alive. A trip to Iceland where I got to visit some cousins fanned the flames of my fascination. Then there was some online research and a family tree report put together by Nelson Gerrard that one of my cousins shared with me – pure gold. Using all this information I had at my disposal, I put together a family tree website that went back to the 1500s. I was content to just sit back and make the necessary changes as births and deaths occurred. Then Icelandic Roots entered the scene and altered my life. Suddenly, all this information was available with just a couple clicks on the old keyboard. The database has so much information and is so very easy to use, and if you do run into a problem, help is just a click away. But I must warn you, once you try using the relationship button you’ll be hooked! When someone asks where afi is, my good wife is likely to say, “oh, he’s probably in his cave rooted to Icelandic Roots.” I’ve been a member for two years and spend lots of time on the site (too much, I’ve been told!) and still have not explored everything the database has to offer, but I’ll keep trying. Thank you to Icelandic Roots and all the good people that make it happen!

The following is a guest post by author, Gay Strandemo. This is an article describing my adventure with the Yule Boys. For those interested in purchasing a copy of the book, CONTACT GAY. Growing up in a Nordic-American family in northern Minnesota gave me a love of the Yule season, which was celebrated with gusto. Both of my parents worked, so daycare consisted of my grandparents, who lived in an apartment above their business -- a men's clothing store. My grandfather was artistic and drew beautifully, and encouraged me to draw, so from a young age I did. I work as a librarian, but I've always had an art project going as well. For a time I acted at a local experimental theater in Madison, Wis., and for a while I had a band that performed music I wrote and sang. While working at the public library, I also wrote and directed a series of plays for children each summer for the local school system and later at my public library every year for over a decade. These plays were usually based on international folktales -- always an interest of mine. It was when I was writing a play based on Scandinavian folktales that I came upon the story of the Yule boys and was captivated enough by the notion of these mischievous Jolasveinar to start the tradition of the Boys' visit to my own young children. Later, we began having holiday parties for friends and family to celebrate the Yule Boys' return every season. We've done this for many years -- it's always a great time! While visiting the American-Scandinavian Foundation's building in New York City during December 2017, I overheard a gift shop worker respond to a phone inquiry by saying, "Thirteen what? No, no, we haven't any such thing like that here." That was when I figured that the story of the Yule Boys must be told, so that everyone can have fun celebrating them. I hadn't drawn anything in ages, so, feeling trepidation, I first asked my husband and artist sister if they were interested in illustrating my written story. They were helpful, but ultimately, I realized that I had the strongest inspiration and motivation to tell this particular story. I set out for the fantastic art store, Artist & Craftsman Supply in Madison, Wisconsin, where I loaded up on every supply imaginable for bringing my vision to paper. Once I began drawing -- I loved the task as I had as a child-- it felt as though the Yule Boys themselves were directing my choices for each of their profiles! I've never been to Iceland, so I had to later amend a fe w details of my final drawings -- for instance, laying more snow, and darkening the skies to consider the time of year. One thing I did on purpose was creating the look of the Yule Boys to resemble teenage boys rather than old men -- it was just how I had always pictured them, so I went with that image. I connected with Sunna Furstenau of the Icelandic Roots organization, and she and Icelandic Roots Library intern, Þordís Edda Guðjónsdóttir, went over my text and she corrected a few spelling and grammar errors to make the spellings accurate and authentic. I was so grateful for their help. Sunna also was kind enough to show me how we were related through several Icelandic family connections that I did not know. It has been a fun learning experience for my husband, the self-publisher of "The Yule Boys," and myself. We decided to go that route in order to really own the interpretation ourselves, and it has been a rewarding decision. Our website will be up and the books will be printed soon. If you are interested, send me an email by clicking on this link: CONTACT GAY. Gay is IR #I204687. If you are a supporting member of Icelandic Roots, you can find your relationships to Gay in the IR Database. Let her know if you are a close cousin!

Dear MEN, Here is your "heads-up." There is an important day this Sunday where you can treat the women in your life to a special dinner, flowers, treats, coffee in bed, etc for Konudagur (Women's Day). Your special month called Þorri (Thorri) is over as of Sunday. Did you attend a Þorrablót celebration or enjoy the first day of the month called Bóndadagur (Husband’s Day)? We begin the next month in the old Icelandic calendar called Góa on Sunday, Feb. 24th. The first day of the month is called Konudagur or Women’s Day. This is not a new tradition made up by Hallmark. The names of these months and the celebrations associated with them are centuries old. In modern days, we have made these days much more commercialized. The Old Norse/Icelandic/Germanic Calendar was in existence until October 1582 when the Gregorian calendar was introduced by Pope Gregory the XIII. The month names each have a special meaning and are based on the weather, sun, and solstices. Calendar and more information found at Time Meddler Þorri - Frozen Snow / coldest Month and Farmer / Men's Month Góa - Góa Month - Daughter of Þorri and Women's Month Einmánuður - Single (Lone) Month - young men month - Spring Equinox Harpa - young women month - first day of summer - give gifts Skerpla - mid May to Mid June Summer - growing season Sólmánuður - sun month Heyannir - Hay month - mid summer Tvímánuður - only two months left of summer Haustmánuður - autumn month Gormánuður - Slaughter Month Ýlir - Yule Month Mörsugur - Fat Sucking Month - the darkest days of winter Icelandic Bakers have started holding a competition for Cake of the Year. The winning entry goes on sale for Konudagur. Here is an advertisement from Jói Fel Bakarí Facebook page. Yummy! Here are a few old Icelandic sayings about the month of Góa: “To survive Þorri and Góa is to get over the hump of winter.” "að þreyja þorrann og góuna" “Góa is coming, kind and true; she'll be warm enough. Þorri, you´ll be missed by few; you've been plenty rough.” A great legend comes from the Orkneyinger’s Saga and is told in the Flatey Book: “It happened one winter at the time of the Þorrablót that Gói disappeared (this is the daughter of Þorri). A search was made for her, but she was not found. And when a month had gone by, Þorri had a sacrifice made for the purpose of gaining knowledge of Gói’s whereabouts. They called that a Góiblót.” Legends claim that Gói’s brothers searched for her until finally one of them came to a place we call Heidmark in northern Germany. Here reigned King Hrólf who had kidnapped Gói from Kvenland, which is around the Bothnian Bay between Sweden and Finland. King Hrólf and Gói were married. Gói’s brother, Nórr, found his sister and had a great battle with King Hrólf where both men survived. Nórr ended up marrying Hrolf’s sister and they returned to Nórr’s kingdom named Norway. There is much more to the story …. Stay tuned for more Icelandic folklore, stories, history, travel, and Icelandic culture in North America. Happy Konudagur to all the women out there and thanks for being here at Icelandic Roots! #konudagur #konudaginn #Góa #Þorri

Dear friends in North America, You probably all know about The Snorri Programs, which will be 20 years old next summer. But you may not know much about the new chapter, Snorri Deaf. We aim for the same ideals with the Snorri Deaf Program as with the other Snorri programs with an additional plan to see and learn from the deaf communities in North America and likewise the deaf communities in Iceland on mutual visits. The work of this project is carried on by volunteers who offer their time, talents, and finances. Families are very generous and hospitable, offering sightseeing, lodging, and meals for the Snorri West and The Snorri Program participants. The same is true for the upcoming Snorri Deaf tour to North America this September and we are so thankful for this opportunity. The Snorri Deaf Program will send two participants from Iceland across the ocean during September of 2018. Their photos are below - Júlía and Heiðdís. A translator from Iceland will accompany them on this tour. They will visit Minnesota, North Dakota, and Manitoba. We will invite two deaf participants from North America in the summer of 2019. We need your help to find deaf people of Icelandic families or those with sign-language knowledge. Statistics tell us there should be about 200 deaf people of Icelandic origin in North America. Please help us to find our Cousins Across the Ocean. We really believe this program will be of great value and benefit to the deaf people of Iceland and in North America. Bryndís, Valgerður, Halldór, Júlía, og Heiðdís Here in Iceland, we have a team of people working to make this dream a reality including those pictured above. Halldór is the Chairman of The Snorri Foundation. He has been doing voluntary work for the Snorri Programs for many years and sees that all is properly managed. We are so appreciative of his work and the donations from organizations and people in Iceland and North America. We are working with Sunna who is connected with the Icelandic National League of North America and also Icelandic Roots organizations in North America. These two groups will be helping to organize the itinerary, find host families, help with financing, setup meetings with other Deaf Associations, and also to find families and relatives of our Snorri Deaf participants on both sides of the ocean. How can you help? 1) Whether you are deaf or not: Please fill out a “Cousins Across the Ocean” form (if you have not completed one previously.) This is for all people wherever you may live in the world but are Icelandic or have children who are Icelandic. 2) Please send information regarding people of Icelandic ancestry in North America who are deaf and / or those who know sign language to IR Support Thanks so much and have a great day!

Heidi Herman-Kerr Icelandic National League of the United States Íeda Jónasdóttir Herman is an unassuming, 94-year-old Iceland native who considers her time on earth to be the ‘amazing life of nobody special’ and can’t imagine why anyone thinks she’s special. She’s lived a long life, filled with love and adventure. People have asked her secret and despite the variety of answers she’s given, she often shrugs and says, “I’m just Icelandic.” Her story begins much like any other. Born in 1925 in Reykjavík, the daughter of a fisherman and homemaker, the third child in a family of six. Growing up, she always had her nose in a book and held a fierce belief in trolls and Huldufólk, the “Hidden.” She spent the school year in Reykjavík and summers at her grandfather’s farm, Hámundarstaðir, just outside Vopnafjörður. She loved adventure and exploring - always wanting to know what was ‘just over that hill.’ During WWII, she met an American who was stationed at Keflavik with the US Navy. They married in Reykjavík, and she moved with him to the United States, where lived happily for 70 years, raising ten children and growing their family to eighteen grandchildren, nineteen great-grandchildren, and six great-great-grandchildren. In the early days of their marriage, travel to Iceland was difficult and expensive. For many years, she was unable to visit her family. They wrote letters, and when long-distance calling became affordable, telephone calls added. Years passed and visits became more frequent. She began traveling with her children to introduce them to her native country - their heritage. She cherished her Icelandic homeland and instilled that love in her children. In 2013, she wrote an account of her childhood growing up in Iceland as a gift to her children and grandchildren. When it was published, she was happy to share it with a broader audience. After her husband passed away in 2015, she began traveling attending Scandinavian festivals and events, sharing her stories about Iceland. With a current population of only 330,000 and world-wide descendants of not much more than that, Iceland is a mysterious unknown and people were always eager to hear her speak. Her Icelandic pride prompts her to work for her country’s acknowledgment and recognition. Any time an Icelandic flag is not represented in a Scandinavian event, she will point it out. If a library lacks books on the country, she will donate at least one. Once, while walking through the international hall at the Salt Lake City airport, she eagerly watched for the Icelandic flag as they walked under the row of banners. The further they walked, her heart became heavy, because she did not see her homeland’s flag. Belligerence set in as she ticked off the identity of flags that were represented, even lesser-known entities. Even one for HATU, but who ever heard of HATU? When she tells the story, her voice carries the same irritation (haughty/miffed) she felt that day. Then she spotted her beloved Icelandic flag and her annoyance faded. But still, HATU? She turned and realized from the other direction, it proclaimed UTAH. One day, as she organized paperwork and gathered information for passport renewal, for the first time in many years, she noticed that line indicating ‘nationality’ in her passport. It read ‘UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.’ That wasn’t right. She was Icelandic. She went to the passport office and learned when she became a US Citizen in 1956, she lost her Icelandic citizenship. The wording hit her like a physical blow. Lost. How could she lose being an Icelander? She could trace her roots from both parents back to the Settlement days. She was at Þingvellir and witnessed the founding of the republic on June 17, 1944. She was as Icelandic as anyone could be. How could she not be a citizen? Several years of paperwork, visits to administrative offices in Iceland, emails to a plethora of contacts in the United States and Iceland, and numerous telephone conversations proved unfruitful. Then, with the help of the staff at RUV television in Iceland, Ieda again completed paperwork, and this time was included in a Legislative bill from the General and Education Committee to be granted citizenship. It was approved by the Icelandic parliament, Alþingi, on June 13th, her father’s birthday. It was a perfect moment, resulting in an onrush of happy tears. She immediately made arrangements for a celebration in Reykjavik for friends and family. Thanks to a new feature in Icelandic Roots database, she identified several thousand more cousins that share common great-great-grandparents. 2,590 to be exact. She’s looking forward to getting to know as many as she can during future trips. In the meantime, she supports education and heritage preservation efforts at home, honored to be one of the founding members of Icelandic National League of United States. As she always says, “You can take the girl out of Iceland, but you can never, never take Iceland out of the girl.”

Dorothy Christopherson Tytgat Winnipeg, MB The Grund Cemetery in the Rural Municipality of Argyle, in Manitoba, is located one-half mile east of Grund Frelsis Lutheran Church, which was built in 1889. The establishment of a cemetery preceded this as the land for the cemetery was donated by Johannes Sigurdson in 1882, and the first burial was that of Áslaug Sigurdson. This means that the cemetery is now 137 years old. That is a long time! And the state of many of the gravestones reflects that great length of time. These graves are in need of restoration as they are either leaning over or sinking, some to the point that the stone is barely visible. In honour of the pioneers who are buried there, this work must be carried out. As is the case in any cemetery, the cemetery board is not responsible for the upkeep of each grave. That is a responsibility of the family. However, because of the urgent need for this work to be done, the board has consulted with and engaged the services of Rapid City Memorials to carry out the restorative work. This entails removing the whole memorial, packing the ground with gravel, epoxying the memorial, if broken, and then reinstalling the memorial and cleaning up the ground around it. This work, of course, comes at a cost. The cemetery board operates through donations alone, with no other funding available. Thus raising funds is a necessity. This write-up is one means of putting a call out for help to any who have relatives buried in this cemetery, or who are descendants of pioneers buried here. Would you be willing to make a donation for whatever amount feels right for you? If you would like to inquire about the state of a grave for a particular relative or relatives, you may contact Lorraine Somerville at lsomerville@mynetset.ca. Lorraine has a list of gravestones that are particularly in need of repair. But even if a grave of your family member is in good condition, would you still consider giving a donation? Also, we’re soliciting the support of those who don’t have relatives buried in this historic cemetery, but who would nevertheless like to help. A donation of any amount would be gratefully received. Donation cheques should be made payable to the R.M. of Argyle, Box 40, Baldur, MB, R0K 0B0. On the bottom of the cheque, please note that the donation is for Grund Cemetery. Donations over $20 will receive a tax receipt. Any and all donations will be most appreciated.

PS - remember to check your inboxes on Monday for a special offer + something extra!

Leona Mae Gudmundson Johnson I597999 My parents raised my brother and I in a very Icelandic community where everybody was related to everybody.... except us. We were just related to our immediate family and my grandparents, Ragnar Emil Jakobsson \ Gudmundson and Rannveig Adalheidur Bjornasson. Both of their parents homesteaded for the last time in Vidir, Manitoba. They both only had one sibling each. Ragnar a sister, who was fostered with another family, and Rannveig, a sister who was quite a bit older. In all my Afi and Amma had five children of which four grew into adulthood. They had 12 grandchildren, me included. That was our family. I honestly never knew anything about my long Afi and Amma Gudmundson. I knew they came from Iceland, lived in Duluth Minnesota, traveled to Arborg, and homesteaded there. They moved back to Duluth and then came back to Canada and lived in Vidir. I didn’t know if my Afi had any aunts or uncles, cousins, He never talked about it. My Amma Rannveig was born in Gimli; her parents lived and worked there. Her dad was a great carpenter and built many of the homes in Gimli in the 1900’s and three are still standing. When I was little, she would show me pictures and tell me her auntie’s names and tell me some stories but I was too young and stupid to ask more questions. I did know that we had relatives in Saskatchewan on my Amma Rannveig’s side but no idea how to connect any dots. So let’s fast forward. Last January 2018, I did an ancestry DNA kit. There were no huge surprises but the names on the DNA connections were surprising. There were names of people I grew up with, and we shared DNA. I would ask my mom what the connections would be and she was just as surprised by the names as I was. Then around the same time, I saw Icelandic Roots and I sent in a Cousins form. The person that replied back said that we were 7th cousins which blew me away. It took me awhile but I decided to join and it has been a game changer! It filled in a lot of the blanks and gave me an insight into my heritage. I found out that my long Afi Jakob Gudmundson had a twin sister and an older sister who stayed in Iceland. His twin sister’s family has connections to Gimli. I have found stories about my Amma Rannveig’s Amma, and how her family settled in Pembina and Cavalier North Dakota. And thanks to the cousin finder, I have found out that I have many, many, many cousins in Iceland and in the United States, and yes even in the communities I grew up in. I have only scratched the surface as I am of 100 percent Icelandic descent. I cannot wait to find out more about my Afi Vilifred Tryggvi Hjörleifsson and Amma Elinborg Thordarson connections. I have communicated with some relatives and it has become very emotional. Thank you Icelandic Roots and all your volunteers. You have made my small family bigger and more complete. Now to plan a trip to Iceland to find the homesteads! Leona Johnson

Nonprofit charitable organization Icelandic Roots (IR) was well represented at the 100th annual Icelandic National League of North America Convention in Winnipeg last month, with 18 volunteers from across Canada, the US, and Iceland in attendance. On Friday, nine of those volunteers joined together to give a short presentation, with each person focusing on their area of expertise. After founder and president Sunna Furstenau introduced the organization, volunteer genealogists Cathy Josephson of Vopnafjörður and Doreen “Kristy” Marston of Tennessee talked about their work. Along with many others on the team, they focus primarily on IR’s genealogy database, a treasure trove of emigration information, photos, documents, and more pertaining to almost 700,000 emigrants and people of Icelandic descent. Next, Doug Hanson of Virginia shared the database’s powerful maps feature and discussed IR’s philanthropy, with thousands of dollars as well as practical support going toward the Snorri Programs, Icelandic language grants, and various heritage and educational projects each year. Dave Jonasson of Colorado spoke on behalf of the IT team and talked about how IR constantly strives to incorporate the latest technology. Renowned photographer Mats Wibe Lund, who has generously allowed the use of his aerial photos of Icelandic farms in the database, made a surprise appearance. And finally, three Snorri Program alumni who now volunteer for IR, Erin Jones and Julie Summers of Reykjavík and Natalie Guttormsson of Saskatchewan, talked about the strong reciprocal relationship between IR and Snorri. Julie is on IR’s translation team, Erin is involved with social media, and Natalie created the IR website along with yet another Snorri alum, Matt Gaudet of Edmonton. On Sunday afternoon, after the official convention program ended, IR hosted a free intensive seminar for over 80 attendees. The volunteer team demonstrated how to use the database, shared some helpful tips and tricks, and introduced exciting new features. All attendees were given free access to explore the database for the duration of the seminar, with 14 volunteers available to assist. Sunna said attendees had a wonderful time exploring their heritage through family trees, emigration information, photos, maps, the new cousins feature, and more: “The excitement was palpable, and at one point I think I even said, ‘This is like a room full of kindergarteners!’ That made everyone laugh because they knew it was true!” Many people identified information missing from the database and were instructed as to how to submit updated information. IR provided refreshments for the budding genealogists, and there were even door prizes, including a sturdy carry-on suitcase with the IR logo, which was won by Ainsley Bloomer of Winnipeg. The entire IR team extends warm thanks to the Icelandic Canadian Frón for hosting the convention as well as to everyone who attended the presentation and the free seminar. To learn more, please visit icelandicroots.com.

By Julie Summers, Reykjavik, Iceland Many North Americans of Icelandic descent have fond memories of family traditions passed down from generation to generation. They remember eating fresh kleinur, hearing their amma and afi speak Icelandic, and perhaps they still can’t imagine a holiday season without vínarterta. But some don’t really connect to their heritage until later in life, and others – especially when adoption is involved – aren’t even aware of having Icelandic roots until they’re uncovered by DNA results or genealogy research. While each person’s path is different, discovering one’s Icelandic heritage later in life always begins with a sense of curiosity and some amount of personal research. But in most cases, the key to uncovering the truth about the past lies in making connections: connections with family members who’ve unknowingly been holding on to key information, connections through social media, connections to blood relatives through DNA testing. And for so many people, the most crucial connection they can make is with the volunteer genealogists at Icelandic Roots, who dedicate their time to helping people uncover the truth about their ancestry. We recently spoke with several people who have discovered valuable information about their family histories through the help of Icelandic Roots, and we’re going to share their stories over the next few weeks. First up are brother and sister Lee and Rhea Marcellus of Ontario, Canada. Growing up, Lee and Rhea were told that their grandfather, Charles Thordeson Marcellus, had been adopted at birth by an older Canadian couple after his Icelandic mother died from complications of childbirth. For almost 40 years, family members had searched for information to confirm this story, but to no avail. In 2016, still searching for information, Rhea discovered a memorial in Kinmount, Ontario in honor of the hardship experienced by a large group of Icelandic settlers who emigrated there in 1874. But Rhea didn’t see her grandfather’s name etched into the stone. Determined to unravel the mystery, Lee and Rhea both underwent DNA testing, but unfortunately the results were a dead end. Contacting the Kinmount branch of the Kawartha Public Library, Lee was referred to Don Gislason of the Icelandic Canadian Club of Toronto. Gislason had a theory as to the identity of Charlie’s mother, but a DNA sample from a would-be long-lost relative in Saskatchewan put that theory to rest. At Gislason’s urging, Lee contacted Icelandic Roots volunteer genealogist Doreen Kristjanson Marston, better known as Kristy. She encouraged Lee to take another DNA test, this time from a different company that had a larger international database. The results from this second test, as well as careful research, revealed that Charlie’s mother was Kristín Thorsteinsdóttir. Kristín died of influenza shortly after Charles’ birth. He was adopted by the midwife who delivered him, Maria Lapointe, and her husband, Marcus Horatio Marcellus. For the Marcellus family, the combination of DNA testing and assistance from Kristy allowed them to finally break down the “genealogical brick wall” that had hindered their progress for so long. In June 2018, finally knowing the truth about Charlie’s origins, they traveled to Kinmount, where Charlie’s name does in fact appear on the Icelandic Settlement Disaster Memorial under the spelling “Thordarson,” and to Tiny, Ontario, where they saw the house Charlie grew up in and met descendants of his adoptive family. Lee and Rhea are eager to continue learning more about their family history. Thanks to Lee and Rhea for sharing their story with us. Keep your eyes out for the next post in this series, where we’ll share another Icelandic Roots success story. And if you need help unraveling a genealogy mystery, or have your own story to share, contact us here. Julie Summers is a translator, Snorri Program alum, and Icelandic Roots volunteer who has been living in Iceland since 2014. Last year, she received an Icelandic Roots scholarship in support of her studies at the University of Iceland. She is currently working toward a master’s in translation studies.

By Karen Gummo Here is a story, the bones of which were given to me by my amma Struna, mother of ten children. All through her life, she was a collector of stories as she wrote historical and local event articles for the local paper, the Red Deer Advocate and for other Prairie community anthologies. I have followed in her footsteps to collect memories from cousins and other family members. Sometimes I find myself dreaming of details to fill open spaces. Many would say that the art of a storyteller is to expand precious moments of memory. I hope you enjoy my version of Struna’s story. I like to precede this story by telling the Icelandic Folktale of How the Huldefolk Came to Be Once there was a girl born in summer. All cries of joy rang out in a sod hut on the prairie. She was the fourth child born to Astridur Tomasdottir and Ofeigur Sigurdsson. They had come to this new territory with their fellow Icelanders seven years before in 1889. The closest settlement was called Tindastoll (and later Markerville) and the family homestead was north and west across the river from a bigger village called Innisfail. Her parents Astridur and Ofeigur must have been happy to bring into the world their third daughter. Her name Astrun means Love Rune. The sky shone in full glory the night that she was born. Later they called her Struna – and that is the name that she liked best. As Struna grew, she delighted in the wildflowers that abounded in springtime, she marvelled at and carried out vigorous work with her farming family, settlers in a new land. She found many natural treasures in the world all around, but one of her most important treasures was a doll that she kept near to her at all times. The doll’s body was made of cloth. Struna and her mother worked to fashion clothing for this beloved thing. The doll’s head looked for all the world like porcelain with rose bud lips and sky blue eyes painted so carefully. This doll she called Dora. She had a song that she sang to Dora in stolen moments. Dora Sweet Dora, come let us play. We’ll dance and we’ll daydream the whole day away. Fly over hilltops and run with the breeze, Hide like the little folk and do as we please. Struna dreamed of the hidden people; the huldefolk, and wondered if any of them might have travelled to Canada from Iceland in the great trunks and sacks brought over by her family. It wouldn’t be long before she found evidence that these secret people might be living among them! When Struna was seven years old, her father told her that they would soon begin to build a two-story wood frame house and that she and her sisters would have a bedroom on the second floor. Struna could hardly contain her excitement. She was destined to feel like a princess with a room on the second floor. Now as the neighbours worked with her father to put up the house, Struna was anxious to visit. Her father warned her that a house under construction was a dangerous place. She would be invited to visit when the time was right. But Struna was impatient. One hot July day when the saskatoon berries were ripe, she and her sisters found a berry patch within sight of the new house. They worked hard to fill their pails with this sweet summer fruit. Struna gazed over to the construction site. How happy she was to discover that the men had stopped working there and drove away in their empty horse drawn wagons to get more building timbers. Struna set down her full pail of berries and sidled silently toward the new house. She had Dora tucked under one arm. Her sisters and her mother did not notice her disappearance. What good luck. She could show her doll where they would soon be living. She climbed onto the front porch and ventured through an open doorway into the great rooms of the house; a sitting room on one side, a bedroom on the other and a kitchen at the back. There was a wobbly ramp that led to the upper story. A great hole gaped open below it. That would be the way to the cellar where food could be kept cold. Clutching Dora carefully, Struna scrambled up the ramp to the place on high where her bedroom would be. Oh, what a glorious view she had from up there. She turned Dora in all four directions to see the world all around. To the south, they could see their way toward the Red Deer River and sheep grazing in open fields that seemed to stretch to the Nose Creek Valley where her father had worked as a shepherd. To the east, they could see the hills that blocked their view of the town of Red Deer where they would go to trade their wool. To the north, they could see the paths that led them to the home of their neighbours the Grimsons and the Stephanssons. To the west they could look toward the Rocky Mountains and to the village of Tindastoll where they sold their milk and met with friends to speak in words poetic. Struna was well pleased with the thought of making this wooden house her new home. She was ready to celebrate and so she began to sing and to swing Dora all around, singing the words of their song, Dora Sweet Dora, come let us play. We’ll dance and we’ll daydream the whole day away. Fly over hilltops and run with the breeze. Hide like the little folk and do as we please. She began to twirl like a whirlwind, arms stretched open with Dora on the other end. Faster she went and faster until she hit her head on a wooden beam and fell back losing grasp of her doll. That was a terrible blow. She sat up, touched her forehead and felt a great goose egg there. Ouch! And where was Dora? She looked at the empty room and then made a hurried search all around. There were no windows yet and only rudimentary posts to mark the upper outside walls. Had she tossed the doll right out onto the prairie? No sign of Dora anywhere below. It was then that she noticed a space between the outside and inside walls. There was an opening so they might insulate the walls with newspaper or wool. When she skirted the perimeter of the upper room and came back to the place where that great wooden beam was protruding, she spied her Dora slipped down into the space between the outer and inner walls. Just as she was looking about for something to help her rescue the doll, she heard the familiar rhythm of horse hooves and the squeak of wagon wheels. It was her father and the others returning. She slipped down the ramp and into the kitchen where she perched dreamily on a wooden box. “Struna!” her father called. “What are you doing here? I thought you were picking berries with your mother and your sisters…” “Oh yes!” came her weak reply. And taking one last look at the place where she knew her doll was wedged, she slipped out of the house and away to join the women. Struna missed her beloved doll, especially when she went to bed at night. Softly she sang their sweet song. Struna wanted to look for Dora but dared not reveal her trip to the second story of the new house. Who could she tell? Certainly not her mother or her father – but her oldest sister Rooney was so wise, she would know what to do. And Rooney had a plan. “As soon as the men stop their work to go for more supplies, we shall sneak up there! I have two long sticks ready with nails in them. We can catch Dora’s bloomers with these long handled hooks and then haul her up out of the wall.” But the men did not stop work for 3 days or more and by the time the two girls managed to climb up the ramp in secret again, the walls were completed. Dora was sealed within the wall of the new house. Struna was heart-broken. But there was much work to do. The work would distract her. They moved into the finished house and the girls moved happily into their bedroom on the second floor. Struna would sing to Dora in quiet moments and felt she heard a soft knock from inside the wall to say, “ I am here for you Struna. I will keep you safe.” Indeed when there were prairie fires sweeping through the district and coming toward their farm with a great wall of flame and heat, Struna thought she heard a soft knocking to remind her that Dora would keep her safe. When soft rains turned to cold pelting sleet and hail that hammered upon the windows threatening to break them, Struna knew that Dora would protect her. One day though, when she was helping her mother to make bread, she opened the flour bin to scoop out an extra helping. Suddenly a creature with small round ears and a long twitching tail leapt out onto the floor. Struna screeched and then jumped up on a stool. She watched in horror as the mouse skittered over to a tiny hole in the wall near to where Dora must be wedged. She considered a moment. She had seen the holes those creatures chewed in flour and sugar sacks. Was there not a danger that the mice might chew on Dora? Oh what could she do? And then she remembered the tale her mother had told her of the Huldufolk. Could they have travelled to this country? There was a grassy mound just outside the barn that had been left untouched. Struna decided to prepare a bowl of milk to leave there every day. Sure enough it was emptied just as often as she filled it. Surely the Hidden people had come to Canada and they had heard our song. They were clever and could slither up between narrow walls to rescue Dora. Time went by and Struna grew up to become a teacher. She married a fine young man of Icelandic heritage called Svein Sveinsson. They married and had 10 children. When their eldest son Alfred grew up, what house do you suppose he moved into with his wife Alberta and their three small children? You are right. They moved in to Struna’s childhood home to honour their beginnings in that land. A sad thing happened though. When the youngest child of Alfred and Alberta was only a toddler, the parents lost their lives in a car accident. Now each of these children were raised by a different family member. Wesley the eldest, was raised by Struna and Svein as their 11th child. Wes heard the story of Dora Sweet Dora when he sat on his amma Struna’s knee. So when he was old enough to move into a house with his wife and three small children, guess where they chose to live? Oh yes you are right again. They cherished that little old house. But as time went by the house needed fixing. The wooden house that seemed so grand to Struna, was too small now for a modern family who hoped for modern conveniences and ample indoor space. And it was sitting in just the place for a house to be, perched on a high point next to the well. So they decided to take down the original farmhouse and put up a new one in its place. But Wes remembered the story of Dora. As every board from the old house was taken down, they kept their eyes wide open. A careful search was made for Dora. But you know, they did not find a single trace of that doll, not even of her delicate porcelain head with the sky blue eyes and the rosebud lips. There is the proof. The Huldufolk have come to Canada! Even now they may be running across the open prairie, hand in hand with Dora, proudly singing that song. So when I travel that way, I think of Struna, I think of Dora and I sing that song. Dora Sweet Dora, come let us play. We’ll dance and we’ll daydream the whole day away. Fly over hilltops and run with the breeze. Hide like the little folk and do as we please. For more than thirty years, Karen has been performing as a storyteller, in schools, libraries, museums, churches, senior’s lodges and in the fields and forests. She has traveled across Canada and even as far as Iceland to share her favourite invented and real family sagas, along with myths, folklore and legends. Her Scandinavian family background is her anchor. She continues to explore the depths of that rich heritage through research, through dreaming and through storytelling.

Approximately a quarter of the Iceland’s population, some 15 to 20,000 people, left Iceland during the emigration period which nominally ran from 1870 - 1914. Some people emigrated before and after those years, but they often went individually or in small family units. During the emigration period, many Icelanders traveled in larger groups. Often they started on cargo ships bound for Denmark. After disembarking in Leith (Port for Edinburgh, Scotland), they took an overland train to Glasgow. From there they departed on an Allen line ship leaving Greenock (Port for Glasgow) bound for Quebec City. And from there - a train into the interior of North America to destinations that they had only read about. (80% of the emigrants first settled in Canada.) In our last Newsletter / Blog, David Johnson talked about one particular voyage of the S/S Copeland as well as an exhibit that Cathy Josephson has put together for the East Iceland Emigration Center in Vopnafjörður which describes the experiences of our emigrating ancestors. (Cathy will be speaking about this exhibit at the 100th Icelandic National League Convention in Winnipeg in May.) This newsletter will describe some of the activities that Icelandic Roots is doing to document each person’s journey as part of our effort to bring the people in our database to life. In his book Vesturfaraskrá, Júníus H. Kristinsson compiled a list of 14,268 people who emigrated during the years 1870 to 1914. One of our volunteers, David Johnson, has just entered the first 10,000 of those people into our Icelandic Roots database. The information often includes the year of departure, the farm that they left from as well as the ship that they left on. From this you can infer groups of people that were traveling together. We have collected information on many of the ships that carried our ancestors. In the database you can see their pictures along with information about length, beam, draught, displacement and propulsion. When David adds the people’s emigration entries, he includes the ship and the farm name. When you go to your emigrating ancestors page, you can click on the ship name to see its entry. For many of the farms, you can see pictures as they appear today. The United Kingdom and Canadian governments have scanned old passenger list documents and made them available on the web. We have linked many of those to the Icelandic Roots ship entry, so you can sometimes see pages of Icelanders names as they leave Scotland and then arrive in Canada. The Icelandic National Archive is starting to scan and publish equivalent information for the first leg of the journey. On a personal note, finding the emigration page listing my great-grandparents journey to Canada was an emotional experience for me; one which help start my journey into genealogy. Icelandic Roots also has some first-hand stories of our ancestors emigration experiences. While there are many more emigrants than stories, you can start to understand the pain that our ancestors experienced leaving their homeland, the trials they endured during the journey and the difficulties they encountered after arriving in North America. (If you click on Collections and Documents, you will see links to Emigration Information and Family Histories.) Icelandic Roots database is more than just a genealogical listing of names, birth and death dates and links to parents, spouses and children. We try to bring each person to life. Adding information about ships and passenger lists is one way that we attempt to do that. For information about how you can join the database, Click here.