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No matter which part of the country you’re from, you’re probably a child of immigrants.
In the Midwest of the 1800s, an immigrant mother would be almost continuously pregnant, breastfeeding, and/or recovering from childbirth. While thus occupied, she would also be busy feeding, educating, doctoring and clothing the kids; growing, harvesting, and preserving vegetables; raising pigs and chickens; slaughtering, cooking and preserving said animals; and helping out as needed in the fields. Probably there was more but I get tired just thinking about it.
In this case, I’m speaking of my great-grandmother Katerina Blasy Wehner, who traveled with her husband John from Austria/Hungary (the Banat area) to America at the beginning of the 19th century. They homesteaded in North Dakota in 1904, living in a sod house until they could build a better one.
Her family was almost as prolific. Most of her kids had eight to fifteen children themselves. Partly this was because more kids = more field hands / workers; somebody to take care of mom and dad in their elder years in this time before Social Security; and no reliable birth control (plus long ND winters!)
Katerina is buried in the cemetery in Lefor, North Dakota, right on the Enchanted Highway. Most of her children are with her, including my grandmother, Elizabeth Wehner Ulschak. Most of Elizabeth’s kids are buried there or have a plot waiting, including my mother, Marie. (It’s kind of creepy to walk up and look at it with her standing right next to me!) Her plot is next to that of my dad, who is already there. When we buried him in October, 2008, I was deeply aware of the abundance of ancestors who would keep him company into the next millenia. Knowing this gives me great comfort.
This rootedness is something we as a society have lost. Now most of us end up in a jar on somebody’s bookshelf, as untethered as the wind, ready to be cast out onto some waves or from a mountaintop – or out the window of a speeding car on the interstate.
I found out so much about my ancestors, and about early settlers in southwest North Dakota, when doing research for my book, Dakota Blues. What a joy to be able to educate myself about my family, and about my country.
Just happened on your posting. My husband is Glenn Kuswa. He remembers Marie and Edward visiting his mother…sometime in the 80’s in Albuquerque.
What a wonderment to get your comment, Chris. I hope you and Glenn are well. I remember Mom and Dad talking about that trip, and then a few years later, your daughter coming to visit Mom and Dad in Hesperia. I was there at their kitchen table with her, but I don’t remember much except that she was willowy and beautiful. We lost Dad in 2008. I contacted Glenn through Facebook several years ago – still have his answer printed out and sitting in my inbox for when I finally get around to working on Ancestry.com again. Mom is still with us. I will tell her you contacted me, and I know it will make her happy. Thank you!
Do you know you lost your dad only two months before I lost mine?? More of that “cosmic twin” stuff, huh?! Congrats on completing Dakota Blues — I look forward to reading it when it’s published (and, if we ever have a Cincy Writers Reunion, I’ll expect an autograph from the author!!)
It continues to amaze me how many similarities we have, Deb. I always look forward to reading your blog to see what else I’ve been doing!
What an incredible story ,Lynne. You are bringing your ancestors to life through your writing and I’m excited to read Dakota Blues. I’m so happy to hear it is a “completed novel” and wish you the best in your next step. Hurray!!
Thanks, Kathy. This part of ND will always seem so special to me. To think that Dad is spending eternity along the Enchanted Highway makes me smile. He was such a hard working guy coming from such a tough childhood and youth, and yet he had a playful, whimsical side.