Spring Break

We have spring break this week and I'm afraid the week will fly by... I've got a list of things to accomplish, but so far have only attacked a few things on it. Things tend to pile up (literally) during the regular school weeks and it's overwhelming thinking about everything I've put off and intend to do this week.
I had a MRI on my ankle yesterday, it's still swelling and painful due to my psoriatic arthritis. Hopefully they'll find something to help after comparing it to one I had last summer. A friend went along with me and we went out to eat and shopping afterwards, it was great to have a fun day.
Today, I've resumed the housecleaning tasks and went outside a little to clean up the aftereffects of winter. I have spring cleaning inside and out to do. I still have artwork to grade and should get up to school to do some work but that will have to wait until another day... then there are taxes to do!!!
Here's the latest artist trading card I made. I want to get a big stack of them made to take along to the National Art Educators convention I'm going to in Minneapolis in April (in case there is some trading going on there.)

Artist Trading Cards

I spent part of this afternoon making artist trading cards (ATC). Artist Trading Cards are small pieces of original art measuring 2.5 x 3.5 inches, that one artist exchanges with another. It was relaxing for me to get back to creating after a busy week at school. These are a few of what I created.
I'm doing an exchange with some people in a week or so. I invited some fellow art teachers and friends in on my first try at this. For this exchange, each participating artist sends 1-3 cards to a central coordinator (Me). These small artworks can be any medium or subject matter. I'll randomly choose and return cards back to each participant that were sent by other artists.
I've only gotten 8 cards from other people so far (I hope more arrive in the next week), how fun to see what other people are sending in. The people who have sent cards to me already all read this blog... I hope they had as much fun making their cards as I did! I used some base paper I had done printmaking and watercolors on, colored pencils, an ink pen, pencil and cut paper to create these.

Norwegian Heritage - Mom's side

Mom's father's lines goes back to Norway. I easily get confused when it comes to Norwegian research, but have found some great help from people, including recently a cousin from Mom's Wettestad (adopted) side, who helped with Mom's Aaro line (birth father) Thanks go out to Arild Jensen of Drammen, Norway, this past week, and an Aaro cousin, Marilyn Leonard who helped me years ago. (I've since lost contact with Marilyn)

Left: Amund Trondsen Aarøli and his wife Ingeborg Marie Larsdatter.
My Great Great Grandfather, Amund Trondsen Aarøli was born in 1833, on the farm Aarølien in Bolsø, Molde, Møre og Romsdal county, Norway. He died there in 1908, and was buried at the cemetery at Røbekk Kirke, in Molde. On December 30, 1860, he married Ingeborg Marie Larsdatter. Ingeborg was born in August of 1838, in Molde and died February 13, 1919, on the farm Aarølia. She is also buried at the Røbekk church cemetery. Eight children were born to this union. (The Røbekk Kirke in Molde, photos taken by Halvard from Norway.)
On the 1865 census, Aarølien was in the school district of Aarohagen. The farm had 4 sheep, oats and potatoes. Living on the farm were Aumund, Ingeborg, Cisilie, Johanna and Ingeborg's sister Magnild Larsdatter and her daughter Karoline Nildatter. On the 1900 census, Amund's occupation was listed as altmuligmann, (handyman) and 4 people (Amund, Ingeborg, Anton & Sicilie) lived on the farm Aarølien, which had grain, potatoes, cattle, a vegetable garden and an orchard.
Aarø is a farm name. The various spelling derivatives; Aaro, Aarønes, Aarøli, Aarølien refer to features of a particular area. Lien, for instance, is a grassy knoll.
Left: Three unidentified men at the Aarøli homestead.
The farm was situated on the mainland part of Bolsøy parish. In the old days, Bolsøy was its own municipality, consisting of the island and mainland to the North, but today Bolsøy is a part of Molde municipality. (The farm is not located on the island Bolsøya as I previously posted.) Bolsøya is a low, forest-clad island about 10 km. from the center of the city Molde in Møre og Romsdal county along the Atlantic coast. Molde is a popular tourist destination during the summer. The surrounding areas of Molde offer popular rock climbing, ice climbing, bouldering, glacier and base jumping opportunities.
Right: The Aarø homestead, Aarølien.

Amund and Ingeborg's youngest child was Peter Amundson Aaro, my great grandfather. Peter was born July 7, 1882, and died March 16, 1956, at St. Luke's Hospital in Aberdeen, Brown Co., SD, from a heart attack, stroke and diabetes. On September 1, 1904, in Tacoma, Pierce Co., WA, he married Anna Louise Kramer. Anna was born in Stordalen, Møre og Romsdal county, Norway and died April 4, 1965, at St. Luke's Hospital in Aberdeen, SD, from Renal Failure, Uremia, and diabetes. Both of them are buried at Riverside Cemetery in Aberdeen. Peter was a carpenter. Anna came to the United States in 1903, settling at Tacoma, WA. Shortly after their marriage, they came to Aberdeen to live and raise their family.
Right: Anna Aaro and her daughter Louise.
Anna's home parish, Stordal parish is an annex to Stranda main parish, Møre og Romsdal. Stranda is one of Norways most well known scenic areas for tourism. Møre og Romsdal got its name after Møre (the costal district) and Rolsdal (the mountainous, inland district). Stordal is across the Romsdalsfjord from Molde.
Peter Aarø's sister Cecilie was very enterprising and had her own "Hotel Aarø" in Molde. Of course it has a different name now, and has been remodeled, but I wonder where it's location was or what the new name is. I've been told Cecilie was "hell on wheels". She went over the bedsprings with a white glove, and if there was any dust, the staff surely heard about it. Her business acumen must have been pretty remarkable, though.

Left: The location of the county Møre og Romsdal within Norway.
I would love to hear from anyone who connects to this family or has more knowledge of this area in Norway. All this information makes me want to travel to Norway!

Klänkorp, Ljung, Östergötland, Sweden

Klänkorp is the name of a farm where, at one time, my ancestors and relatives farmed and lived in Sweden. It is a small farm in Ljung Parish about a 5 minutes ride into the woods from the big road. So it really was in the middle of "nowhere." The stone to the right was out at the big road which showed where the turn off to Klänkorp was.

In 2001, we spent a couple days searching the area, visiting farms, distant cousins, churches and climbing the hills of the "old country" where my Dad's ancestors emigrated from.

We were lucky to be greeted to this farm by the owners, Björn and Margaretta Åke. (Björn sang in the Ljung church choir at that time. Someone else could have been renting the land surrounding their home, I don't remember now...) They were very welcoming to us, inviting us into their home, which was built in 1925. The house is not the same one our ancestors lived in, but some of the out buildings dated back to the 1700's.
A friend I had met on the Internet, Inger Nyberg was our guide through the back roads and had visited the farms before we came to announce we would be visiting. Eighty year old Engwar Elfgaard also traveled with us. Although he didn't speak English he was very informed of our ancestry as his deceased wife was our 4th cousin. We continually commented on and now remember how friendly the Swedes were on our visits and travel throughout their country.

As I look back in my genealogy records I find our ancestors living at Klänkorp during the 1700's and 1800's.
One of the earliest in my direct line worked as farmers there. My 8th Great Grandparents; Joen Månsson (b. ? - d. 5 Apr 1711) and his wife Brita Holstensdotter (b. abt 1628 - d. 10 Nov 1707) Both died at Klänkorp.
My 6th Great Grandparents; Anders Eriksson (b. 1705 - d. 13 Apr 1763) and his wife Anna Simonsdotter (b. 8 Oct 1706 - d. 25 Feb 1795) farmed at Klänkorp and both died there.
In my records there were other cousins, aunts and uncles who lived there as well.

The day of our visit it was beautiful. The lupines we enjoyed each day, filling the ditches and fields, were in bloom and my Aunt Joyce and Mom couldn't resist having their photo taken in front of them not far from the Klänkorp house.

This old cellar/cold storage door was built into the side of a hill or berm not far from the house.
Both my Johnson and Swanson lines have connections to this farm. The latest was a cousin on the Johnson side who died there in 1901.

Old Stories from the Classroom

Kids say the wackiest things sometimes. Teachers can relate to these stories and probably have some of their own they remember. Maybe they're just funny to me since I was "there".
Way back in 1981, when I was a first year art teacher, the school librarian told me about a student I had as a senior in my class. When he was a junior, he was assigned to do a report on the artist Michelangelo. Remember this is before everyone had the Internet, so he was looking in the library at the encyclopedias. Puzzled, when he couldn't find any information on the famous artist in them, he went to the librarian for help, "I can't find anything on an artist I'm supposed to write about, can you help?" The librarian ready to help, asked the artist name. The student replied, "I've looked in all the A encyclopedias, his name is Angelo, Michael Angelo."
Back when I taught elementary art, I was trying to implant the desire to fully decorate a Christmas tree to a kindergarten art class. I was relating how my mother loved to decorate our tree at home with all kinds of ornaments, filling our tree. One little boy with disbelief and shock evident on his face blurted without raising his hand, "You have a mom!!!???". Yes, it's true even 27 year old teachers have parents in our closets!
In my 7th grade art class we'd been painting with watercolors making color wheels and all and the students were supposed to make a monochromatic painting (using 1 color and only mixing additions of white or black to that color). A girl had been gone for numerous days in the hospital and home recovering and came up to me and said "I still don't have that mammogram done." My teeth about fell out, I thought oh this poor girl really has problems and she's only a 7th grader! What could I answer but "Oh, you don't?" She replied "What color should I use and should I do it now or take it home." Ah ha, "Oh, your MONOCHROMATIC painting,..."
How many times have students walked into my classroom with a question on their mind and absentmindedly called for my attention with a "Mom!"
While students are working we often have many different topics we discuss. I can't remember how we got to the point of talking about clergymen. One girl, with a puzzled look on her face said, "Wait, what's a clergyman?" I asked what she thought one was, after all, we had been talking for a while. Her answer has stayed with me for many years, "Isn't he a person who collects people's coats?"

Button up - Digital Fun

I subscribe to a newsletter called Photojojo. It sends ideas of projects you can do with your digital camera. On a recent post it suggested to go to the site for the film Coraline. I don't know much about the film, but it is stop-motion animated like the film The Nightmare before Christmas. The story is about a young girl who walks through a secret door in her new home and discovers an alternate version of her life and Coraline must count on her resourcefulness and bravery to get back home. To adapt a photo, here is The Other Mother's Workshop if you want to add buttons. I even buttoned my mouth in this one. I've seen some people use these portraits on their facebook photos!

Pastor Wretlof, a Religious Pioneer

Years ago when I wrote "A West Ender's Scrapbook", I had researched the history of the area I grew up in in Sioux township, Lyon Co., IA. Our church, Grandview Covenant Church, has a history that goes back further than the church building, which was built in 1914.
In 1873, religious services of Swedish settlers began when Rev. John F. Wretlof, a 29 year old preacher from from Boone, IA, arrived along the Sioux River in Sioux Township. Pastor Wretlof was born Dec. 26, 1843, in Göteborg, Sweden, and had immigrated from Sweden, August 3, 1864. He came to Rock Rapids on the stage in May 1873, and then set out on foot across the open prairie in search of Swedish settlers that lived in this region. He found the Jackson dugout along the Big Sioux River, about one and a half miles southwest of Granite, IA. He stayed with the Jacksons for a few days and met with other Swedish pioneers in the area, sharing God’s Word in preaching, song and prayer, the start of a religious community. Rev. Wretlof soon brought his newlywed bride, of one year, the former Augusta Johnson, to the community, and they homesteaded near Valley Springs, SD.

The following, written in 1913, by Rev. Wretlof was published in FROM THE READING CIRCLE (Från läsekretsen) in Brandon, S.D. (Translated by my great aunt Mable E. Swanson)
RECOLLECTIONS OF REV. J. F. WRETLOF - Early days in the Granite, IA, & Valley Springs, SD, areas
In the year 1873 I lived in Boone, Iowa, where I presided over a congregation. By the Iowa conference was I called to make a journey in the northwest corner of Iowa to there seek to find Swedish people, in case such existed there.
In the last of the month of May I set out to unknown regions. The trip occurred by railroad to Rock Rapids, Iowa, then to Larchwood with the mailman and then by foot over beautiful, grass-rich but people-empty prairie. Here I wandered the whole afternoon without noticing the least trace of any roads. The air was foggy and it mist-rained about the whole time. This resulted in that I did not know exactly where to I went. Tired, wet and hungry, I thought of taking night quarters in the wet grass, when the sun came out, just as it was ready to go down in the west. I became now glad and brave again, because I understood now, that I was on the right direction. What was it that I now heard? A dog barking down there in the valley. That gave me speed, because there must be people. And soon I got to see a man, who in pure Swedish greeted: “Good evening and who are you?” I told him in what errand I was out. He opened then the door to a dugout and bade me step in and be welcome.
Here he and his wife lived soon over a years time. I got food. Then was had a while of prayer. The days troubles were now forgotten. Some more families lived here beside the Big Sioux River. We invited the people to a meeting, and they came nearly all. They were glad to get, for the first time out here, to hear the talk about the crucified but risen Savior. I was then with them a few days and talked with them about God’s kingdom. The neighborhood here is now called Granite.
I got the knowledge about , that further to the north there should be many Swedish people and that it was up towards Dakota Territory. A man who had a pair of horses, offered himself to drive me up there. The offer was received with joy. This was the only place I could find out here, where some countrymen had settled themselves down.
Now was the take-off for Dakota. After a couple hours of riding, my driver stopped his horses by the edge of a little brook. He said, “Here live Swedish people.” I asked him: “Where is the living house?” The answer became: “Doesn’t the pastor see the house!” He pointed to a pipe, which stuck up out of the earth. I went a few steps down the hill, and look, there was a door. I knocked on the door and a young woman came out. I said to her, that I was out with an invitation from our God. Her eyes filled with tears and she burst out: “Thanks, dear Lord Jesus, that you have not forgotten us!” Her husband came now. I became of them both so heartily received. Here was a “Mary” home, which Jesus loved. Such was my entry here in Dakota.
Soon was here a crowd gathered who wanted to hear about Jesus, The Crucified. The people out here had been here nearly two years, I was not the first preacher, who got to tell, to inform of the Word of Life here in Dakota. I stayed here some days. It felt quite good to be among them. Some of them were believers. The time had now come, that I must say to them farewell. But before that occurred, I must promise them two things. First, to organize a congregation here. After some consideration I met their desires. The 8th of June organized we a congregation, which received the name of “Beaver Valley.” The second was, that I should come out here and live among them. My answer became, that if it was God’s will. I would come, but when, I could not now say.
The Lord arranged it so, that I with family could leave Boone already the 1st of September. We traveled now by train to LeMars, Iowa, where we were met by an ox drive, sent by the friends in Beaver Valley Dakota Territory. From LeMars to our destination it took us nearly three days. At 5 o’clock in the morning of the 6th of September we were at our journeys goal. We now got to move in with a family who lived in a dugout, which lacked both windows, doors and floor. There we lived for 3 weeks. Later we got our own dugout, which also got to serve, during 3 years, as gathering place for our preaching and prayer meetings.
Soon I got three other preaching places, namely: Granite, Iowa, Sioux Falls, and Little Beaver, now Swedona. The people had need to both hear and read God’s word, not only on Sunday but all the days. Meetings during the week were held here and there in our low and small dugouts. To walk afoot, five or seven miles to hear the sermon, or to ride after oxen and tie the cow behind the wagon, that was not at all any trouble. The cow got to follow with, so that one knew where one had her when one came home. Poverty and sacrifice were our daily guests; but happy and contented the people in general seemed to be. Real want was there however not, even if one and another had to grind wheat for flour on the coffee grinder.
Now has 40 years gone and ended since we began the mission work out here. Of those which were with the 8th of June 1873, at the organization of the Beaver Valley Congregation - belonging to the Augustana Synod - most of them are dead. Only a few are yet left. New relations have come. This congregation now wanted to celebrate a 40-year-fest. The 12th of October was decided therefore. I was invited to give the fest speech. The day came when the fest should be celebrated; it was a beautiful, sun warm day. A large crowd of people were therefore gathered in the church. The fest took its beginning soon after the high mass was ended, which was held by the congregation’s pastor. Thereafter joint psalm-singing. Then the pastor read one of David’s psalms and lead in prayer. Thereafter I plucked forth as good as I could one and the other, small and good, from the humble beginning days. The speech was heard with great interest. A music band played some pieces. With song and the down-calling of God’s blessings the simple fest ended.
Sunday, the 19th of October was a very cold and stormy day. I was today at home. Between 1 and 2 o’clock, p.m. I heard a weak rap on the door. I went then to see who it was. It was not one or two persons, but a great crowd of folks, men and woman, young and old, which stood out there in the cold. I became so astonished that I did not come me about to great them welcome. They did not wait either until the invitation came, but as a stream they rushed in. For safety’s sake I took my refuge behind the door. But what people are they and what do they want? Oh yes! See! They are, why, of course, old dear friends, friends from Granite, Iowa and from Beaver Valley. All their faces shone of contentment over that they could so suddenly surprise me and so without resistance take in the mount. When they now had come to quiet, I should surely greet them welcome. When I was to begin, I became so overwhelmed by Jesus’ Word in Luke 21:36, so that a welcome talk became nothing of, but a counseling word to all: “Wake and pray.” The Lord’s mealtime should now be celebrated. Soon we were all in full speed to eat of all the good things which the friends had with them. With song, prayer and conversation the time flew fast away. At the last stepped one of my former confirmation children forth and asked for quietness. Some verses were then read. At the last was reached out a large bill packet to me and my wife. It was a money gift, named-will do. How should I bring forth to the friends my and my wife’s hearty thanks. That was easier thought then done when one becomes so lovingly met in word and action by loving friends. Thanks friends, dear in the Lord! May we all understand God’s Gift in Christ Jesus.
J.F. Wretlof - 1913

Rev. Wretlof resigned, March 24, 1919, and only months later, on December 1, 1919, our faithful shepherd and minister of 46 years passed away in his home in Brandon, SD. May there always be a Peace of Christian Love over his memory.