Norwegian for the Holidays

My sister says I get “Norwegian-y” around the holidays. She means I go a little overboard with my Norwegian sweaters and “prairie tree” made by my father from dowels to imitate the twig Christmas trees of early Norwegian immigrants. I unwrap the Norwegian Nisse doll knitted and felted by a newfound Nordic cousin. John and I fire up the Norwegian woodstove in the milkhouse sauna for chilly winter nights. We even make lefse—a thin Norwegian potato pancake–for Christmas eve dinner using my Grandma and Grandpa Short’s lefse griddle and fancy rolling pins. My holidays wouldn’t feel complete without these Nordic customs.


This year I’m feeling even more Norwegian-y because I’ve been researching my father’s Nordic heritage on my grandmother’s side. Her father—my great-grandfather Martin Jacobson—came from Oslo as a young child in 1883. Her mother—my great-grandmother Jossie Dokken Jacobson—was a first-generation American daughter born to Norwegian immigrant parents. It’s these great-great-grandparents for whom I’ve been searching recently, aided by Jean, an expert genealogist who keeps me pointed in the right direction with her generous guidance and lightning-fast retrieval of archival information; Janet, my dad’s cousin-in-law who shares her own valuable discoveries; and a handful of Minnesota historical librarians and genealogists. With their help, I’ve reconstructed a good bit of information about these ancestors.


Genealogical research is one part methodical fact-finding (pouring through census and other records; checking and rechecking names, dates, and places), two parts sleuthing (following up leads, pursuing hunches) and three parts serendipity. Jean reminds me that some of the best clues are found in places where we aren’t even intentionally looking for them. I enjoy this meticulous kind of work, and the connection to my own family makes it even more satisfying.


Searching for Norwegian ancestors in the winter makes a certain kind of sense because Norwegian immigrants settled first in the colder mid-Northern areas of the United States. Norwegian immigration is really two movements: emigration from Norway, where economic opportunity was limited by lack of land for the growing population, and immigration to the United States, where land was becoming available as states like Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa “opened” (a euphemism for claimed and taken by settlement and force from Native people) for white, European homesteaders.


Norwegians immigrated to the rural northern climate to continue the agricultural work they’d known back home. Garrison Keillor jokes that Norwegians came to the US to try horizontal farming, meaning they were leaving the mountains of Norway behind. These immigrants weren’t daunted by the cold winters of the mid-Northern states. In his 1909 study Norwegian Immigration to the United States, scholar George T. Flom remarked on the affinity of Norwegian immigrants to colder climates: “Even Kansas is too far south for the Norwegian.”


My great-great-grandfather Ole Olson Dokken came to the United States in the late 1860s or early 1870s with his older brother Arne. Census records show two different entry years for Ole—1868 and 1872. Census records are notorious for imprecision and error, but at least we have a range of dates from which to work.


We have yet to find the entry year for my great-great-grandmother Anna Engebretson Dokken and we may never find it. Women in those days weren’t usually asked for such details on the census since the husband was considered the head of household whose information was most important. I’m still searching for Anna’s death record. My great-grandmother Jossie—Anna’s daughter–noted on the back of her own wedding license that Anna died at age 50 in Swift Falls, but research there has yet to turn up anything with Anna’s name. The last official document we have for Anna is the 1895 Minnesota state census in which her name appears with her husband and children. By 1900, she was gone and Ole was remarried to Karen Thompson, another Norwegian immigrant.


I may never know much about my great-great-grandmother Anna but I’m willing to keep looking until the all leads are spent. Finding connections between the women in my family helps me understand my own life better. In A Bushel’s Worth: An Ecobiography, I wrote of how my Great-Grandma Flora Hunsley Smith’s teaching and farming life was passed down to me. I hope to find a similar resonance with Great-Great-Grandmother Anna. After all, she came to a new country as a young, unmarried woman and raised her seven children on a farm. She must have valued education since her daughter Jossie went to school through eighth grade, which was equivalent to high school in those days. I imagine she made the most with what she had without complaining because that’s the ethic I observed in the Norwegian family and community of my youth.


I’m further south than my Norwegian ancestors, but it still gets cold here on Colorado’s Front Range. If I feel like whining about the frigid, snowy weather that occasionally descends on these dark winter days, I remind myself that I come from hardy Norwegian stock. When the snow’s falling and the days are short, I can put on a Norwegian sweater and stoke up the Norwegian woodstove.  I can get “Norwegian-y” for a while and warm myself with the customs passed down to me from ancestors who took a long ship’s ride across an ocean to reach new land where they could make a home.




Filed under ecobiography, memoir, sustainable agriculture, women's writing

9 responses to “Norwegian for the Holidays

  1. Barbara K.

    I love your collection of brooches – the wreaths and trees. Wonderful! I have one wreath pin that used to be my mom’s and I love wearing it to visit during the holidays. Thanks for sharing the beautiful sweaters. I found your blog by way of your comment on Arne & Carlos, and I’m glad I did. 🙂

  2. Pingback: Back to Harlan | Pearlmoonplenty

  3. I grew up in Minnesota and come from German, French, and Danish stock – all three well represented in the North Star State. I remember my Grandmother fixing aebleskivers for breakfast and lutrfisk for New Year’s Eve dinner. She would march around all day preparing for holidays while singing Danish folk tunes in her native tongue. Some of the words were not even translatable. Your post is a pleasant reminder of my roots.

  4. Loved this! Though we are American thru and thru, yet in the depths of our heart we beat Norwegian! Love you!!! shelley

  5. Lorna

    Fun post about your past and the sweaters added such a nice touch. Love that pic of the farm and snow. BTW we had friends here at Thanksgiving who brought fresh fefse and it was a huge hit. I love learning about the traditions of others!

  6. Another lovely piece Kayann. Being a real kin-aesthetic type I’m in love with fiber works whether felted, woven or knitted. Love Norwegian sweaters! My sister and I inherited one from a close family friend who immigrated from Norway (Borghild Fossum). She found her way to work and live at Mohonk and stayed on as my great-grandmother’s companion. She died when I was about 10…My sister is named Rachel Borghild Matteson for her. We traded the sweater annually until it fell apart…xo patty ps STAY WARM!!!

  7. Jeff

    The Norwegians were not only hardy, they brought a strong work-ethic to the New World – as did most European immigrants. I worry that, through our comfortable American culture, we are slowly losing our vigor, so thank you Kayann for keeping these traditions alive.

  8. Michelle Visser

    I like the sweaters mixed in with the family history. One of Luca’s children’s magazines had a story about a nisse. I’ll look it out for you!

  9. johnmmartin

    Nice sweaters, nice Christmas pins, nice writing. In Colorado water in the ditch isn’t frozen when it snows like that.

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