<![CDATA[Aleta Chossek - Stories]]>Sun, 22 Feb 2026 00:57:54 -0600Weebly<![CDATA[Case Study Continued]]>Sat, 21 Feb 2026 16:53:22 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/case-study-continued6989336​After Fredrik built a shanty and planted his first crop of wheat, he  sought out construction jobs.  To meet the requirements to make the land his, he lived on the claim for three months during the spring planting season for wheat and three months of harvest.  During the intervals between those times, he was close enough to growing towns to take on electrification jobs in Canada, Montana and the Dakotas.  If needed, he could do masonry and even carpentry.   Though there were defined borders, there were no actual border checkpoints established between Canada and the U.S.  until the 1920’s.  Fredrik moved freely between his land and northern Montana.  When he had completed all the homesteading requirements, not only did he own the land outright, he also became a Canadian citizen.
During the years 1914-1919, Fredrik had become independent of Mikal’s mentorship.  Letters were sent to Mikal in Chicago or Whitehall, WI from Fredrik in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan or Minot, North Dakota.  Most of the available land for settlers in Wisconsin, Minnesota and the Dakotas had been claimed and developed.  The railroads were established and there was less demand for workers.  The burgeoning West drew Fredrik for the opportunities of homesteading but unlike the first settlers, he also invested in  land others had cleared and built on.  He improved his properties by electrifying  the structures. His letters detailed his daily life.  He wrote of women he was seeing, poker games during the winter months, the difficulty of supplies getting to his homestead claim, construction jobs he had or hoped to get.  His letters were dominated by reports of land deals that he did on behalf of himself and Mikal.  His entrepreneurial spirit was evident in these letters that included so much more than clearing land and growing wheat.
“I have one thing on my mind that I would like to ask you, and that is, if you would mind very much if I were to join the (Canadian) army?  You see, I’ve got another nine months to put into the land and I don’t need to be there any more if I enlist.”  Fredrik writing to Mikal,
Swift Current, Saskatchewan
July 12, 1916   
World War I kept both Fredrik and Mikal in America.  Norway was officially neutral but it’s large naval fleet, strategic position for sea battles, and supply of fish to feed troops was of strategic importance to the Germans and the United Kingdom.  The brothers worried about the farm, the well-being of their father and sisters and remaining brother.  The North Sea was too dangerous to consider going home so they continued to work and invest their earnings, looking to the future.  Fredrik, the younger brother even considered going to fight for Canada 
 
“Received your letter just one hour ago, and I see that you are serious about your returning to Norway…..I am glad that you are going home.  You may think it strange for me to say that I am happy about your leaving me, but you know what I mean.  Just now your place is at home, so you can begin making a decision about your future.   Here you were never sure of anything about the future and had to live accordingly---almost like a gypsy.”
Fredrik writing to Mikal
Regina, Saskatchewan
February 5, 1919
By the time WWI was over and it was safe to travel, Mikal was 40 years old.  In this letter, Fredrik is encouraging Mikal to claim ownership of the family farm in Norway, marry and start another generation.  Even though he had spent over 15 years in America, Mikal never gave up his right to the farm in Bygstad. Within a year of returning to Norway, Mikal was married and expecting his first child.  
  Fredrik continued to work day by day, and week to week wherever he found himself, in his words “like a gypsy”, for a few more years but he too began to long for a more stable future.  For him it was in America.  
]]><![CDATA[Case Study Continued]]>Tue, 26 Aug 2025 19:13:21 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/case-study-continued​Mikal was a brick-layer mason and Fredrik had his electrical certification.  Their plan was to work construction in the rapidly expanding cities of the Midwest and Canada while also dealing in real estate.  The lure of land ownership drove Fredrik, the son who was unable to inherit.  Single men, they were able to roam the Upper Midwest and Western Canada to wherever work was available.  Mikal’s contacts in existing Norwegian American communities helped find those jobs.  
 By this time, chain migration was well established in the Midwest.  Chainm migration is the phenomenon of existing settlers encouraging others, relatives or neighbors, to migrate to the same area where they had established a foothold.  Whole towns spoke specific Norwegian dialects.  The men learned English to conduct business outside the community but often women lived their entire lives in rural Midwest and never learned to speak English.  It is not unlike ethnic enclaves now in our cities and suburbs.  Immigrants naturally seek out those who are like them, speak the same language, eat the same foods and celebrate in similar ways.
  Mikal was well known in the area around Hixton and Whitehall Wisconsin where others from Sunnfjord were farming.  From that base, Mikal and Fredrik hired out, initially as farm workers and in the winter joined the logging crews in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.  Day laborers, they quickly learned of construction projects both in the communities near them but also in bigger towns like St. Paul, Minnesota or Chicago, Illinois.  As they moved around, they stayed in rooming houses where they met even more men like themselves seeking opportunities for advancement.  It was this itinerant lifestyle that helped them learn English and gain a wider view of American life.  Fredrik was soon traveling on his own to install electricity in commercial buildings.  Letters began to arrive back in Norway from places like Glasgow Montana and Pierre South Dakota.  
“As you will see from this letter, I am still in Montana in a small town called Glasgow.  Mikal is here, too, and we have good work both of us, he as a bricklayer and I as an electrician.  We will stay here until Christmas.  Then I may go and see the land I own.  I’m happy as long as Mikal is here….It’s in Canada we bought some lots, and it is quite impossible to sell them again because times are hard due to this terrible war.  But hopefully, it will soon be over and Canada will become just as good as before.”
Letter from Fredrik to his sister Anna in Norway.
Glasgow, Montana
October 11, 1914
 
By 1914, Fredrik pursued his belief that the best investment was in land, by staking a claim to 160 acres under the Canadian Dominion Land Act of 1872.   By then, the Dominion Land Act in Canada and the Homesteading Act in the United States had encouraged thousands of people to settle and farm in the Great Plains of North America and displace the indigenous people who had called this vast area home.                                       
 Because he was claiming land late in the homesteading era, Fredrik found that the best available land was near Swift Current, Saskatchewan, just north of Glasgow, Montana, where he had been working.  Fredrik did not seem to be concerned that there were few Norwegians among his neighbors.  His belief that wealth lay in land ownership superseded those considerations. However, he was able to commit to homesteading and hardship because he had no wife or family to provide for.  For him, at that time, it was a business decision, an investment in the future.  In order to earn title to the land, he needed to build a habitable structure, occupy it at least 6 months of every year, and clear and farm the land.   
After Fredrik built a shanty and planted his first crop of wheat, he  sought out construction jobs.  To meet the requirements to make the land his, he lived on the claim for three months during the spring planting season for wheat and three months of harvest.  During the intervals between those times, he was close enough to growing towns to take on electrification jobs in Canada, Montana and the Dakotas.  If needed, he could do masonry and even carpentry.   Though there were defined borders, there were no actual border checkpoints established between Canada and the U.S.  until the 1920’s.  Fredrik moved freely between his land and northern Montana.  When he had completed all the homesteading requirements, not only did he own the land outright, he also became a Canadian citizen.
During the years 1914-1919, Fredrik had become independent of Mikal’s mentorship.  He sent letters to Mikal in Chicago or Whitehall, WI from  Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan or Minot, North Dakota.   Most of the available land for settlers in Wisconsin, Minnesota and the Dakotas had been claimed and developed.  The railroads were established and there was less demand for workers.  The burgeoning West drew Fredrik for the opportunities of homesteading but unlike the first settlers, he also invested in land others had cleared and built on.  He improved his properties by electrifying  the structures. His letters detailed his daily life.  He wrote of women he was seeing, poker games during the winter months, the difficulty of supplies getting to his homestead claim, construction jobs he had or hoped to get.  His letters were dominated by reports of land deals that he did on behalf of himself and Mikal.  His entrepreneurial spirit was evident in these letters that included so much more than clearing land and growing wheat.

“I have one thing on my mind that I would like to ask you, and that is, if you would mind very much if I were to join the [Canadian] [ks2] army?  You see, I’ve got another nine months to put into the land and I don’t need to be there any more if I enlist.”  
Letter from Fredrik to Mikal,
Swift Current, Saskatchewan
July 12, 1916   
​
World War I kept both Fredrik and Mikal in America.  Norway was officially neutral but it’s large naval fleet, strategic position for sea battles, and supply of fish to feed troops was of strategic importance to the Germans and the United Kingdom.  The brothers continued to work and invest their earnings in America, but Norway was never far from their thoughts.  They worried about the farm, the well-being of their father and sisters. Fredrik, the younger brother even considered going to fight for Canada.  His letter seems to say it is to get title to his land more quicklyer but he also may have wanted to defend Norway’s newly won sovereignty.  
 

 

]]><![CDATA[Fredrik and Kristine Case Study  continues.]]>Tue, 26 Aug 2025 17:49:55 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/fredrik-and-kristine-case-study-continues​Mikal was a brick-layer mason and Fredrik had his electrical certification.  Their plan was to work construction in the rapidly expanding cities of the Midwest and Canada while also dealing in real estate.  The lure of land ownership drove Fredrik, the son who was unable to inherit.  Single men, they were able to roam the Upper Midwest and Western Canada to wherever work was available.  Mikal’s contacts in existing Norwegian American communities helped find those jobs.  
 By this time, chain migration was well established in the Midwest.  Chainm migration is the phenomenon of existing settlers encouraging others, relatives or neighbors, to migrate to the same area where they had established a foothold.  Whole towns spoke specific Norwegian dialects.  The men learned English to conduct business outside the community but often women lived their entire lives in rural Midwest and never learned to speak English.  It is not unlike ethnic enclaves now in our cities and suburbs.  Immigrants naturally seek out those who are like them, speak the same language, eat the same foods and celebrate in similar ways.
  Mikal was well known in the area around Hixton and Whitehall Wisconsin where others from Sunnfjord were farming.  From that base, Mikal and Fredrik hired out, initially as farm workers and in the winter joined the logging crews in Rhinelander, Wisconsin.  Day laborers, they quickly learned of construction projects both in the communities near them but also in bigger towns like St. Paul, Minnesota or Chicago, Illinois.  As they moved around, they stayed in rooming houses where they met even more men like themselves seeking opportunities for advancement.  It was this itinerant lifestyle that helped them learn English and gain a wider view of American life.  Fredrik was soon traveling on his own to install electricity in commercial buildings.  Letters began to arrive back in Norway from places like Glasgow Montana and Pierre South Dakota.  
“As you will see from this letter, I am still in Montana in a small town called Glasgow.  Mikal is here, too, and we have good work both of us, he as a bricklayer and I as an electrician.  We will stay here until Christmas.  Then I may go and see the land I own.  I’m happy as long as Mikal is here….It’s in Canada we bought some lots, and it is quite impossible to sell them again because times are hard due to this terrible war.  But hopefully, it will soon be over and Canada will become just as good as before.”
Letter from Fredrik to his sister Anna in Norway.
Glasgow, Montana
October 11, 1914
 
By 1914, Fredrik pursued his belief that the best investment was in land, by staking a claim to 160 acres under the Canadian Dominion Land Act of 1872.   By then, the Dominion Land Act in Canada and the Homesteading Act in the United States had encouraged thousands of people to settle and farm in the Great Plains of North America and displace the indigenous people who had called this vast area home.                                       
 Because he was claiming land late in the homesteading era, Fredrik found that the best available land was near Swift Current, Saskatchewan, just north of Glasgow, Montana, where he had been working.  Fredrik did not seem to be concerned that there were few Norwegians among his neighbors.  His belief that wealth lay in land ownership superseded those considerations. However, he was able to commit to homesteading and hardship because he had no wife or family to provide for.  For him, at that time, it was a business decision, an investment in the future.  In order to earn title to the land, he needed to build a habitable structure, occupy it at least 6 months of every year, and clear and farm the land.   
After Fredrik built a shanty and planted his first crop of wheat, he  sought out construction jobs.  To meet the requirements to make the land his, he lived on the claim for three months during the spring planting season for wheat and three months of harvest.  During the intervals between those times, he was close enough to growing towns to take on electrification jobs in Canada, Montana and the Dakotas.  If needed, he could do masonry and even carpentry.   Though there were defined borders, there were no actual border checkpoints established between Canada and the U.S.  until the 1920’s.  Fredrik moved freely between his land and northern Montana.  When he had completed all the homesteading requirements, not only did he own the land outright, he also became a Canadian citizen.
During the years 1914-1919, Fredrik had become independent of Mikal’s mentorship.  He sent letters to Mikal in Chicago or Whitehall, WI from  Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan or Minot, North Dakota. 
       Most of the available land for settlers in Wisconsin, Minnesota and the Dakotas had been claimed and developed.  The railroads were established and there was less demand for workers.  The burgeoning West drew Fredrik for the opportunities of homesteading but unlike the first settlers, he also invested in land others had cleared and built on.  He improved his properties by electrifying  the structures. His letters detailed his daily life.  He wrote of women he was seeing,  poker games during the winter months, the difficulty of supplies getting to his homestead claim, construction jobs he had or hoped to get.  His letters were dominated by reports of land deals that he did on behalf of himself and Mikal.  His entrepreneurial spirit was evident in these letters that included so much more than clearing land and growing wheat.

“I have one thing on my mind that I would like to ask you, and that is, if you would mind very much if I were to join the [Canadian] army?  You see, I’ve got another nine months to put into the land and I don’t need to be there any more if I enlist.”  Fredrik writing to Mikal,
Swift Current, Saskatchewan
July 12, 1916  
 
World War I kept both Fredrik and Mikal in America.  Norway was officially neutral but it’s large naval fleet, strategic position for sea battles, and supply of fish to feed troops was of strategic importance to the Germans and the United Kingdom.  The brothers continued to work and invest their earnings in America, but Norway was never far from their thoughts.  They worried about the farm, the well-being of their father and sisters. Fredrik, the younger brother even considered going to fight for Canada.  His letter seems to say it is to get title to his land more quickly but he also may have wanted to defend Norway’s newly won sovereignty.  



 


]]><![CDATA[August 26th, 2025]]>Tue, 26 Aug 2025 17:44:23 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/august-26th-2025





          

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]]><![CDATA[Beyond the Norwegian American Rural Immigration Story]]>Fri, 08 Aug 2025 17:34:25 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/beyond-the-norwegian-american-rural-immigration-story​Norwegian American Immigration- A Case Study
Beyond the Norwegian-American Farm Communities.
 
 
2025 is the 200th anniversary of the first organized immigration from Norway to the United States.  Fifty-three people arrived near New York City in a sloop named the Restauration on Oct. 9, 1825.  This began a wave of emigration during which over 800,000 people left Norway for the United States, mostly in the period between 1840 and 1910.  My grandfather, Fredrik Hjelmeland was on the tail end of that big wave when he arrived in Halifax, Canada in 1910.  It is also the 100th anniversary of my grandmother Kristine and mother Odny’s immigration.  
Today, among those of us who claim Norwegian American heritage, the anniversary of the first settlers, has heightened interest in migration patterns.  We are curious about how our ancestors decided to leave.  Did they plan to settle somewhere specific?  What did they know about the land they were headed to, the climate, the topography, the soil?  Were they encouraged by a relative or friend that had already left?  What role did religion or politics play in their decision to leave?  How wealthy or poor were they?   
  I have been struck by the ways in which my grandparent’s experiences differ from common experiences and explanations of the time but also differ from each other’s.  In the fifteen years between Grandpa emigrating and Kristine arriving, the world around them had changed.  In the context of changing economies, a World War and the emergence of a middle class in the United States, Kristine and Fredrik brought maturity and changed family situations to their decision making.
Norwegians, including my mother’s family were like all immigrants.  They left their homes and families because of a lack of opportunities.  In Norway, three factors dominated.
  • Arable land in Norway is scarce, but industrialization was hampered by the difficulties of geography, mountains and fjords, scenic but ill-suited for anything but subsistence farming, trading  and fishing. 
  • Religious freedom-Christianity, specifically Lutheranism was the state church, which meant that the local government was closely tied up with who the government chose as pastor for the community.  Quakers, Haugean pietists and other Protestants who espoused lay leadership were moved to emigrate rather than resist both the government and their church.  Other immigrants simply could not be bothered with the strict rules of the church.  Only 25% of Norwegian emigrants stayed with the Lutheran Church in the United States.
  • Education was limited and ended for most with confirmation.  This lack of education limited the economic prospects of fisherman and farmers.  Limiting education assured the upper class a protected status as they could afford to educate their children beyond basic reading and writing.  
Fredrik, my grandfather, was motivated to emigrate mostly by the idea of land.  The youngest of three sons, he came from a family that owned a small farm in Bygstad near the Dale fjord on the western coast of Norway.  Land ownership put his family a step above husmenn, tenant farmers, in social position and wealth.  Husmenn families often were those who emigrated for opportunities that owning land would afford them. 
Because his older brother Mikal would inherit the family dairy farm, Fredrik knew he would need to find work off the farm. By law the farm went to the oldest son in the family. Dividing the farm into smaller parcels of land for inheritance purposes was not permitted.  If Fredrik were to remain farming, he would either have to be able to buy scarce farmland or become a husmann on someone else’s land.  Neither option suited him. 
By the early 1900’s, industrialization and new communication and transportation services were drawing young people from the farms to Bergen and then Kristiania, now Oslo.  Fredrik was among those who saw their future in learning new skills.  In 1909, he earned his certification in electricity from the Kristiania Technical Institute.  To travel across the country and get certified in a technology that no one in his home area had access to, was a bold move for a farmer’s son from a small coastal village.  Fredrik had the vision and drive to know that this was a technology that he wanted to be a part of.  He was motivated to get the education he needed to acquire land.  His time in the city introduced him to more merchants and businessmen who were part of the small but emerging middle class of Norway.  He also saw a way of life that was not as bound by the pietism of his home.  Desire for land, education in a skill and a vision of different ways of life, all made Fredrik ready to emigrate.
While he was in Kristiania, his brother Mikal had come home from America with tales of opportunities for a young person who was willing to work hard. Because their family was still on the farm, Mikal had gone to America to practice his trade of bricklaying and masonry and to earn money for the day when he received ownership of the farm.  When he returned in 1908, Norway had entered a time of deep economic depression.  His hard earned money did not go as far as he had hoped.  In addition, his father was not ready to hand over the farm.  In 1910, Mikal returned to America and Fredrik accompanied him.  Both said they would return to farming in Norway after they made some money.  Only Mikal did.  
]]><![CDATA[Turning Point]]>Fri, 01 Aug 2025 17:44:16 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/turning-point​Turning Point
 
Beginning in 1825 but concentrated between 1840 and 1920, over 1/3 of the Norwegian population emigrated to the United States.  My maternal grandparents and my infant mother were among those who came.  World War I and the 1918 influenza pandemic were turning points in diminishing the flow of immigrants but even more impactful was the U. S. Immigration Act of 1924.  
My grandfather’s story begins in 1910 at the tail end of the great influx from Norway. 
 My grandmother and mother came in 1925, among the first to arrive after the Immigration Act changed the way people apply to come to the United States dramatically.  Ellis Island was closed, and immigrants got their visas in their own countries subject for the first time to quotas.
Still, their questions were the same and held in common with many immigrants, questions of identity, community, assimilation, language, religion.  
My Grandfather, Fredrik Hjelmeland worked as a day laborer and as an electrician in construction projects as he roamed the upper Midwest from 1910 to 1923.  In between this work he homesteaded 160 acres in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.  His decisions about work and whether to return to Norway were influenced by world events but also by his status as the youngest son, unable to inherit the family farm and by his ambition.
My grandmother, Kristine Kristiansen Hjelmeland married Fredrik in Norway in 1923.  Fredrik returned to Waukegan Illinois immediately to begin work as an independent contractor.  Kristine came in 1925 with infant Odny to make a life in urban Illinois.  Kristine Finding Home is the story of her immigration and the turning points both in their individual lives but also the history of Norwegian immigration.
 
 
]]><![CDATA[The Universties are Next]]>Tue, 08 Apr 2025 19:55:02 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/the-universties-are-nextThe Universities are next…
 
 I seem to write a blog post about once a year.  This year, 2025 may be the year when I do more.  I had never intended to use this site for personal essays about current issues but these are the times in which we live.  Unexpected things happen.  People voted for President assuming that whoever won would follow the law, respect the Congress and the courts and governing norms.  This has not been the case and as an ordinary citizen there seems to be no place to go with our concerns.  So,  with this post,  I launch a few random thoughts about the issues I am experiencing as the unprecedented administration unfolds.
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My husband and I are graduates of a small Lutheran liberal arts college in Iowa.   We got an excellent education there that prepared us well for successful careers.  In the tradition of the liberal arts, we learned to look at the big picture, to ask why and why not?
We have watched with dismay the dismantling of science and research programs at major universities and the punitive attack on DEI programs.  Using Federal funding the administration is punishing Columbia University first by withholding $400 million.  Johns Hopkins has had $800 million in grants cancelled.   
Still, we were shocked to learn that a private scholarship that we have funded at our alma mater,  entirely with our own personal funds is being rewritten against our wishes, solely because the scholarship funds were designated to give preference to U.S. students of color or Tanzanian students.  
Redefining the terms of our scholarship fund shocked us because of the reach of this movement against the existing diversity of our society.  If the anti-DEI agenda reaches individual scholarship funds in a tiny sectarian school in rural Iowa, where will this oppression reach next?  Will it stop? Or will it permeate our neighborhoods, our churches, our living rooms? 
 











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]]><![CDATA[Belonging to Denmark]]>Fri, 22 Mar 2024 05:00:00 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/belonging-to-denmark
Picture
“Family gives us our original sense of identity.  We belong to some people and they belong to us”    Rachel Held Evans    


    Martha Marie Hansen was sixteen years old when she, her brother Peter and her sister Anna emigrated from a dairy farm in Denmark on the Jutland Peninsula to Waukegan, Illinois.  Like many single immigrant girls from Scandinavia, she knew no English, had no money and was valued for her marriageability and ability to work hard. A distant relative who owned a rooming house sponsored her passage in return for work as a housemaid.
    Now, over 100 years later, I look for her wedding picture and find a different picture that tells me how little I know about my paternal grandmother.  There is nothing written on the picture, no date, no names of the four young women in their Sunday best, standing arms linked.  That might be because Grandma Reckling, as my siblings and I still call her, had only been educated at her local church until she was confirmed.  She could read and write in Danish enough to sign and date her name and memorize the catechism but recording details about herself was not something she did.  
    I wonder who took this picture, who the other girls are, how soon it was taken after she arrived in Waukegan, why they were all dressed up? I notice the sidewalk, the other houses in background, the electrical poles.  I am only sure that it is her because she is the tallest in the group and her big round eyes staring directly into the camera are mine.  Her thick dark hair pinned in a modest style around a heart shaped face, tells me she has not been in this country long enough to cut her hair.   Like the others, she is wearing a necklace but her dress is cruder, not well-fitted to her, with a ribbon substituting for a waist band. The picture gives me some details of a story I only vaguely know. 

I asked her once how she met our Grandpa? The only part of her answer I remember is that they met at the rooming house where he was staying and she was working.  I wish I had been more curious. Were they attracted to one another right away?  Did I imagine that he caught her eye when she was serving the stew and potatoes the boarders usually got for dinner?  Or was that part of the story she told?  She was still a teenager.  Ten years her senior, he had been a plasterer and union man for over a decade.  An inexperienced farm girl, was she attracted, intrigued or seduced?  He was the grandpa who frightened me with his swearing and demands.  Did he frighten her?  Did she flirt with him or was he the best option to escape long hours of cleaning, washing sheets and serving food?
    I wish I had a letter that she might have written home, some clue to her life then.  I think she told me that her mother and a sister, had died in the 1918 flu pandemic.  Still recovering from the German occupation of World War I, her father could not afford to keep her on the farm.  Is it my imagination or did she still  have younger siblings?  Was she sent away when her father remarried?  A younger brother, Robert, visited Waukegan from Denmark once during the 1960’s.  For Grandma it was very important.  Why hadn’t I paid more attention then?  
     She had come to Waukegan with an older brother Peter, did he write letters home?  Did he and their sister Anna also work at the boarding house?  I know that Grandma’s sister Anna married shortly after they arrived but I don’t know anything about Peter.
    If there are pictures from Grandma’s wedding, none of my siblings or cousins have located them. In family lore, most of her story begins with her eldest son, my father’s birth.  Grandma’s story through him belongs to me.  I record what I know,  so that if my grandchildren wonder about how they might belong to me, they will have a trail to follow for their own questions.  
​      Some distant cousins in Denmark have asked about Marie who went to America through a geneaology site and suggested that Pete and Anna had slightly different stories from mine.  My sister Kristine remembers a different story about Grandpa and Grandma meeting.  Any and all who have information about the meeting and Grandma Marie's early years, or a better story than mine should feel free to post a comment.  It is through sharing stories that we find out who we are.
]]><![CDATA[Widening the connections]]>Mon, 01 May 2023 14:58:22 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/widening-the-connectionsOriginally,  when I started writing,  I did not envision a book about my grandmother.  I envisioned a telling of the details of both her life and Fredrik's.  How I got to Kristine Finding Home is the subject for another post.  The best outcome of publishing a book and writing it  as a story is to connect with people in a way that speaks to them.  I have had many unexpected people across a wide spectrum read and appreciate Kristine Finding Home which humbles and delights me.  Recently though, I was surprised to find that Kristine's story was used as an example of how to research family history by Daytona Danielsen.  
     Daytona was a journalist specializing in Scandinavian Food writing based in the Seattle area.  I came across her work while doing my research.  I had at one time thought to tell Kristine's story in recipes. Danielsen's  life has changed somewhat but she maitains an active online presence including hosting a book club while writing, working and going to graduate school. She writes about her grandparents, 
 "They, like Kristine, intended to return to Norway after a period of time. They, like Kristine, never moved back. Although much is different between my grandparents’ experience and that of this woman and her family, I appreciated this glimpse into her story, knowing that there is something universal about being human and the way we experience life. Even though I’ll never know much about what it was like for my grandparents to leave Norway, reading Kristine’s story—as written by her granddaughter based on letters, reports, and oral history—expands my understanding of an experience that I’ve never had, and helps me to perhaps understand my grandparents more as well."  Her website daytonadanielsen.com is filled with interesting stories and another way to delve into how we become the people we are.
     Writing down family stories continues to open doors that I never knew existed.  I have discovered a rich and varied community for which I am grateful.  
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​]]><![CDATA[Intricate Pattern]]>Mon, 19 Sep 2022 18:31:18 GMThttps://www.aletachossek.com/stories/intricate-patternIntricate Pattern Picture
Once again it has been quite sometime since I posted to this blog.  However,  I am delighted to add a family story from my history.  Flying solo without Kristine, however,  she is always with me.
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The following essay was written in the spring of 2022 and received Honorable mention in the Jade Ring Non-fiction contest of the Wisconsin Writer's Association.  Introducing you to Olga.


Intricate Pattern

I smooth the lavender fabric and stand back to admire our table.  A plant with periwinkle blossoms picks up the delicate stitched pattern on the tablecloth.  Winter has been long and dark, so I have chosen a pastel cloth to lighten the table for the small group that will gather on Easter Sunday.  Because Olga Yevgushchenko, a Ukrainian student, gave me this cloth nearly 30 years ago, I think it’s fitting to use this year, 2022.  My thoughts go to the Ukrainian grandmothers who will not set an Easter or Passover table because they have fled their homes. Images of mothers and teenagers shepherding young children with their warm jackets, stuffed animals and a single suitcase, bring back memories of Olga.

Nearly thirty years ago, a friend asked us if we could provide housing for a 15-year-old piano prodigy who was going from an exchange program in Racine to study with a particular piano teacher at UWM, the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee.  Because she was underage, the terms of her student visa required her to stay with responsible adults, but she also needed to be within range of UWM’s campus transportation system.  As recent empty nesters, we fit all the criteria. Our friend introduced us to Olga’s Racine sponsors, Cathy and Scott Olson, who assured us that they would be responsible should any trouble occur. 

Olga was fluent in English and had spent 6 months going to school and studying piano in Racine. So young to be living in a different country without her parents, she brought with her many of the social adjustment problems of a teen whose talent or intellect gallops ahead of her social maturity. 

Now, when I see teen girls speaking for their whole families fleeing Ukraine in reports from Poland and Hungary, I marvel at their courage and think about our experience with Olga.  
Our difficulties began with unspoken expectations for boundaries around her behavior.  We assumed that she would eat at our house because she didn’t have a campus meal plan, but she never appeared when we were eating.  We always invited her to join us if she was at home when we ate. She rarely did.
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We expected her home in the early evening, that she would study and practice at our house.  She generally slept until we had gone to work and returned between 10:00 pm and midnight with the UWM transportation van.  

We expected that she would show some interest in our lives.  She did not.  From the beginning she treated us like annoying landlords.

We anticipated that the Olsons would be the parents in absentia. For the first weeks she was with us, they picked her up on the weekends and took her to their home in Racine, where she had lived the previous semester.  Three or four Saturdays into her stay, we assumed, they would again, but she was still asleep in her room at noon.  I woke her and asked why she was still with us.  She grunted and pulled the covers over her head.  Later as she was headed out the door, I stopped her.  “Where are you going?  Aren’t the Olsons coming for you?”

“I am going to practice,” she called over her shoulder, the front door banging behind her.  The pattern was set. She interacted with us as little as possible.  The Olsons got all the formal communications about grades and tuition.

 Occasionally, I would find her doing her laundry or hear the piano as I came in the door from work.  She made an effort to be self-sufficient, but still left towels in a heap on the bathroom floor.  When an entire bag of oranges disappeared overnight or the peanut butter jar was emptied almost as soon as I brought it home, my maternal concerns heightened.  

I talked with Cathy Olson about my uneasiness with what we were experiencing.  She was both sympathetic and casual about Olga’s late practice times.  She assured me that I didn’t need to worry.   She would talk with Olga.  

My husband, Walt, and I were both busy with our careers and volunteer commitments.  The days passed without too many incidents.  We didn’t see much of one another since we left before 8:00 am and her schedule, if there was one, seemed to begin at noon.  Every once in a while, we did share a meal.  We learned a bit about her.  She was from Odessa.  Her mother and father both worked for the government, but she was vague about what they did. We learned that she had gotten the scholarship to Prairie School in Wind Point Wisconsin after winning a piano competition in Prague.  Her favorite composer was Rachmaninoff, her challenge was Chopin.                                  

In November, she agreed to play piano for a visiting artist who had a small show in our home.  Olga, young and vibrant, her long flowing blond hair and her broad Slavic hands creating magic on the keyboard, enchanted our guests. She seemed delighted with the attention. For Thanksgiving she went to the Olson’s, but chose to be with us for the Christmas holiday.
 
Our son and daughter, freshman and senior at different colleges, brought out a youthfulness we had not seen in Olga.  She was kind to my grandmother and laughed at  my father’s jokes.  It was that Christmas that she gave us the lavender tablecloth. Looking back, I should have recognized that in its intricate design, beauty and complexity mixed, much as it did in Olga.

Walt received a very elaborate Russian-made wristwatch.  We wondered how Olga’s parents were able to send such an expensive gift.  We heard rumors of involvement with the Russian mafia, but no one really knew.

In the New Year, we were hopeful that the easy mood of the holidays would continue. It didn’t. The erratic hours, night-time binge eating and disregard for our feeble attempts to be responsible quasi-parents reached a crisis point in early February.  I confronted her one evening at midnight.

“Olga, you must start coming home earlier. We could both get in trouble for you being out so late.” 

 Her response was furious and immediate. “You have no right to tell me when I can come and go.” 

I tried to keep my voice calmer than I felt. “No. Local law does not allow young people under 17 to be out past 11:00 pm on weekends.  If you don’t start coming home by then, I will report you.”  
She tossed her hair, eyes blazing as she spit back at me, “It is late because that’s when the practice rooms are available to me.  I always come home with the UWM van.”  She continued with teen age drama, “I left Odessa because of people like you.”  

  We were at an impasse. I was bluffing, but worn out from not sleeping until she came in.  We had paid our teen-age parent dues with our own children and considered sending her back to Racine. I called the Olsons, who encouraged patience, urging us to give Olga more time to improve her ways.  

Days passed with her coming in after curfew but not so late.  Most nights, I lay in bed listening for the UWM van to pull up and our front door to open.  Our encounters diminished to leaving notes taped to her bedroom door.  She never left any for us.  Mail arrived regarding piano competitions all over the country.  When I peeked into her room, among the usual clothes strewn everywhere were thick musical scores.  Walt and I began to count the days until the end of the semester.  Lacking any cooperation from Olga, we could not continue this arrangement.
 
On a wintry day in March, I got a call at work from Cathy Olson. This time, she was the frantic one.  Olga had not been attending classes and was in danger of flunking out.  If she wasn’t in school, her visa wasn’t valid.  And she was still a few months from turning 16, a child for whom the Olsons were legally responsible but who was living under our roof.  Her piano professor and the Olsons met with her.  They were not bluffing about the consequences of what would happen. Regardless, not much changed.  

A month or so later, the Olsons decided to send Olga back to Ukraine.  Attempts to communicate with her parents had failed.  Olga was still only sporadically attending piano classes.  The Olsons set a date with us but did not tell Olga.  The day before they were to pick her up, I came home after work and noticed the door to her room was open.  Her clothes and cosmetics were gone.  Sheet music, junk mail and empty chip bags littered the floor. Later, I found her house key on an entry table. 

 I was alarmed, but given the tension we had been living with, I called Cathy Olson just to make sure I hadn’t mixed up our days.  She was shocked.  Where was Olga?  She called her contacts at UWM.  I called Walt.  By this time, it was dark. Nevertheless, we drove up and down the streets of Shorewood and the East Side of Milwaukee looking for any sign of her.  We contacted UWM security and the Milwaukee Police.  Because we were not her legal guardians, they couldn’t help us.  Cathy Olson called them both. There was no evidence of foul play, but I had come to distrust anything about the Olga situation.  

Around midnight, Carole conveyed a call from the Milwaukee PD.  Olga had been found in an East Side apartment with one of the security van drivers from UWM.  The police had tracked them down from their marriage at the courthouse earlier that day.  Olga’s parents had faxed their permission for their almost sixteen-year-old daughter to marry a stranger in his twenties.  As much as we had known that the situation was bad, we had never suspected that it would lead to this.  Olga asked to retrieve the bags she had left in our garage.  We left the garage open for her but did not see her again.

In later years, we heard that her marriage had been brief, but she somehow had managed to stay in the United States. Living then in California, she was studying to be a doctor.  She had married again and had twin daughters.  Ten years ago, we heard that she very much regretted her behavior with us and would like to be in contact.   We were happy for her that things worked out but, in the midst of a family transition of our own, we didn’t follow up. 

With the events in the Ukraine and the images of those young, bereft and fearful women on the nightly news, I now wish we had made the connection with Olga.  Was her family involved with Russia? Does she have someone she loves in the fighting?  Are we seeing her mother, aunt, niece being interviewed?  Is Olga using her medical skills to help them?  Will they survive only to find the world harsh and lonely to navigate, torn from their home communities?  I’d like to pass my tablecloth on to someone from there who has lost both fine linens and a table to spread them on.  

There is a grim beauty in the strength of Ukrainian people in the face of horrific acts of war.  We who sit in our comfortable living rooms cannot imagine what it would be like to see everything we call home destroyed. The days and weeks to come for five million displaced Ukrainians will be filled with brave but frustrating stories from helpers and helped alike.  More than one Olga-like situation will occur.
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I examine the tiny intricate stitches on my Easter cloth closely. Only when I step away do I see any pattern.
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