Tag: Family
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ON TOP OF THE (GERMAN) WORLD
Last Sunday was one of those frigid, yet super clear days that only seem to come around a few times each winter. We were showing Padma’s brother’s family around and were staying with our friends Karl-Heinz and Hiltrud Linke in their little village of Illerbachen. As the sun rose on a very frosty morning, Karl-Heinz pointed to Germany’s highest peak, Zugspitze, from his kitchen window. With visibility like that we just had to head for the summit. Upon arriving at the base of the mountain in Garmisch-Partenkirchen (the site of the…
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DROP IN IF YOU’RE IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD
Just a few weeks ago I received an email from a genealogist in Switzerland. He found a 1928 photo I posted online of some distant cousins in Wisconsin and wanted some details. I sorted out his enquiries and he was most grateful. He said ‘If you’re ever in the Bernese Alps, drop in.’ I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the ‘if you’re ever in XYZ drop in’ invitation or how many times I’ve said it. I rarely take up the offer and people rarely take up my offer. But…
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WEBERT. OLBERODE. ANCESTRAL HOME.
‘What’s your mother’s maiden name’? How many times have I had to answer that question? ‘Webert,’ I answer. But for most of my life it was only a name. A name I knew nothing about. And a name my mother knew little about. A few years ago I got bitten by the genealogy bug and started researching the Weberts. I didn’t need to do much work because others – Ulrike, Dan, Lou, Jean, etc. – had already done it. I learned from them that the ancestral home of the Weberts is…
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THEY’RE TAKING ME TO MARRAKECH
I spent much of my youth hearing Graham Nash singing about the Marrakech Express. It was a big hit in the early 1970s and always on the radio. I often visualized about that train with ‘ducks and pigs and chickens’ and ‘charming cobras in the square’. Marrakesh seemed like some exotic, far off land in a distant place I would never visit. But finally now I have. And I discovered Graham Nash was spot on. Marrakech is full of sights and aromas and flavours and experiences. And thanks in no small…
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GRANDPA GAUSTAD
For as long as I remember, my mother has flaunted her ‘Norwegian-ness’. Her mother, Gertrude Gaustad, was of full Norwegian stock. So mom has an appetite for lefse but when I would ask her about our Norwegian ancestors she would draw a blank. She didn’t know much except that her grandfather was named Ole, he was blind and had died before she was born. So I set out to find out where we came from in Norway. It took quite a few years but I figured it out. In 1883, a…
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OLAV OF BYNESET
I hit a brick wall once. A genealogical brick wall, that is. For five years I had been trying to find out where my great grandfather, Ole Erickson Gaustad, came from. I was getting nowhere and figured I’d never find out. But one night in 2007, I was Googling ‘Gaustad’ and the village where I thought he was born, ‘Byneset’ and I got a hit. I found a function centre with Gaustad in the name so I took a chance and wrote an email. Within a day I got an email…
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INTO THE LAND OF MY GERMAN ANCESTORS
I had visited Germany on numerous occasions prior to living here. And every time I visited I felt an odd sense of belonging. As long as I didn’t open my mouth to speak, I even felt German. I felt comfortable and at home. And in a way, I was indeed home. Half of me is German. My father is half German and my mother is half German. For 15 years, I have been trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle that constitutes how I came to be. While researching my father’s…
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THE FATHER/SON ADVENTURE DRAWS TO A CLOSE
DAY 26. Tbilisi International Airport. There is nothing more important in my life than my wife and son. And nothing more valuable to me than having quality time with Padma and Joseph. Padma and I have had 24 years of quality time together but having quality time with Joseph has been elusive. It isn’t easy being a father. For 20 years Joseph has probably only known me as the mean old ogre who is always yelling at him to get out of bed, finish his homework or take out the rubbish.…
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JOSEPH’S GUARDIAN ANGEL
Day 24. Tbilisi. Getting sick while on holidays isn’t much fun. But falling ill in a foreign land where you are language challenged is downright terrifying. So when Joseph started vomiting last night I had a far bit of cause for concern. Joseph’s body started revolting around 11 pm and he made hourly dashes to the toilet all night to spew. I suspected food poisoning but I knew I had eaten exactly the same food as Joe that day and I felt fine. In the morning, I messaged Hans in Switzerland…
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