Photographs of our forefathers' hometown in Germany have arrived. Sonke Wessel, (pronounced Tzunka) our 1982 student guest from Germany, took some snapshots last fall of the area that our relatives emigrated from almost 180 years ago. The bundle of glossy photos arrived this week, depicting a tranquil, pastoral spot, long abandoned by our blood. The entire assortment -- co-produced by Sonke's girlfriend and then packaged and mailed via Luftpost by his mother -- , is now catalogued in the Rolfsrud Relics Reference Repository, and is available for public viewing during regular office hours.
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Here's the background information, posted last October on this blog. Since you may have forgotten its historical significance, here it is again:
The word has come down from Hanover, Germany.
Since we disclosed last week that Stan's family has ancestors from the Hanover area, diligent genealogists have raced to track down the bloodlines we have identified as our Wendelken forebears. (See previous post).
The international phone call came Monday afternoon here, late evening in Hanover.
It was Ingeborg.
She eased into the conversation with some small talk.
"It has been 20 years since we have been reunited," she said, referencing the year the great wall that divided Germany was taken down. We agreed that it didn't seem that long ago. "There are young adults who have never experienced this separation," she said in her good English.
Then she let us have it. Both barrels. "Stahn," she said, sounding like a schoolmarm. "I have looked in the area where your people come from. Yes. I must tell you. It was a swamp."
A moment of silence hung on the intercontinental wires.
Yes. It would seem that when our great great grandparents wed in Worpswede they did so in an area known for its production of. . . peat. Yes. Peat. Rotten dirt. Our forefathers didn't farm. They probably dug up rotten dirt and sold it for heating homes. Without doubt, they were poor. Very poor. Dirt poor.
"Well," Stan surmised. "No wonder they came to America."
"Yehs," said Ingeborg, with just a slight hint of pity.
Then, making the best of it, she added brightly: "But, the other town mentioned in your post, Mevenstedt, was known as an artists' colony. It was known for producing art work."
So there you have it, my dear kinfolk. It appears that either our German forefathers were dirt poor, or they were starving artists. And for whatever reason, they immigrated to South Dakota. Wow. South Dakota, our promised land. It was better there.
Ingeborg will be sending us maps of the swamp to confirm where our German roots were nourished. You never know. So take heart, Wendelken/Brown/Rolfsruds. Maybe they'll strike oil there.
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Here's the historical reference that put Ingeborg on our trail:
Johann Wendelken Jr (great, great, grandpa) was born on 31 March 1817 at Winkelmoor, Ottersberg, Hanover, Germany. He married Anna Katharina Kohlmann, daughter of Zeband Kohlmann and Katherina Gutindes, on 3 December 1841 at Worpswede, Hanover, Germany. He emigrated in 1843 from Spring, Emigrated to, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He appeared on the census of 6 August 1850 at Ward 2, Page 177-B, Dwelling 21, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He was (an unknown value) on 6 August 1850 at Carpenter, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He died in 1903 at Elkton, Brookings County, South Dakota.
Since we disclosed last week that Stan's family has ancestors from the Hanover area, diligent genealogists have raced to track down the bloodlines we have identified as our Wendelken forebears. (See previous post).
The international phone call came Monday afternoon here, late evening in Hanover.
It was Ingeborg.
She eased into the conversation with some small talk.
"It has been 20 years since we have been reunited," she said, referencing the year the great wall that divided Germany was taken down. We agreed that it didn't seem that long ago. "There are young adults who have never experienced this separation," she said in her good English.
Then she let us have it. Both barrels. "Stahn," she said, sounding like a schoolmarm. "I have looked in the area where your people come from. Yes. I must tell you. It was a swamp."
A moment of silence hung on the intercontinental wires.
Yes. It would seem that when our great great grandparents wed in Worpswede they did so in an area known for its production of. . . peat. Yes. Peat. Rotten dirt. Our forefathers didn't farm. They probably dug up rotten dirt and sold it for heating homes. Without doubt, they were poor. Very poor. Dirt poor.
"Well," Stan surmised. "No wonder they came to America."
"Yehs," said Ingeborg, with just a slight hint of pity.
Then, making the best of it, she added brightly: "But, the other town mentioned in your post, Mevenstedt, was known as an artists' colony. It was known for producing art work."
So there you have it, my dear kinfolk. It appears that either our German forefathers were dirt poor, or they were starving artists. And for whatever reason, they immigrated to South Dakota. Wow. South Dakota, our promised land. It was better there.
Ingeborg will be sending us maps of the swamp to confirm where our German roots were nourished. You never know. So take heart, Wendelken/Brown/Rolfsruds. Maybe they'll strike oil there.
-------------------------------------
Here's the historical reference that put Ingeborg on our trail:
Johann Wendelken Jr (great, great, grandpa) was born on 31 March 1817 at Winkelmoor, Ottersberg, Hanover, Germany. He married Anna Katharina Kohlmann, daughter of Zeband Kohlmann and Katherina Gutindes, on 3 December 1841 at Worpswede, Hanover, Germany. He emigrated in 1843 from Spring, Emigrated to, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He appeared on the census of 6 August 1850 at Ward 2, Page 177-B, Dwelling 21, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He was (an unknown value) on 6 August 1850 at Carpenter, Marietta, Washington County, Ohio. He died in 1903 at Elkton, Brookings County, South Dakota.
