My Mixed-up Heritage

My dad was Icelandic through and through, always, regardless of where he lived. This was true even if his family had ancestors from Norway, Denmark, Germany and, yes, the west coast of Ireland – the Irish monks who were in Iceland when the Vikings landed there in the 8th century. Without the Irish, there would have been no Sagas, no Edda, precious little history of early life in Iceland. The Irish taught the Vikings how to read and write.

Iceland is basically a Christian country, with a difference. It also firmly believes in Irish folklore. Fairy hills, hidden people living among and inside the boulders and hillsides. The "Mountain Queen," a regal being, reigns supreme here even to this day. And roads are built AROUND fairy hills to avoid disturbing the hidden people.

And, Christmas too, is ruled by elfin people – a family of thirteen "jolasveinar" and their wicked old mother, Gryla (pronounced "greelah") and her huge black cat. This story to this day, far more so than the Christian holiday, is the prevalent way of celebrating in Iceland. Yet, other holidays are more traditionally Christian – Easter especially. Even the Lenten period. While Iceland is predominantly Lutheran, the Lutheran that prevails there is far closer to the Catholic religion than it is to what we know as Lutheran in the United States. Thus, my upbringing was far more Catholic than anything else.

My family in Sweden and Denmark were far less "religious" – I don’t remember ever going to church while I was there, except when my aunt was married.

Then there was my personal religion that evolved over the years, through explorations (not encouraged by my family in any way ). I always felt there was something missing, and never got the answers I wanted from the nuns and priests who all told us to "not worry about such things, the Church will take care of that." So, I went my own way once I left high school. Greek Orthodox was a consideration because I did get some answers there, answers that made sense to me. Still, something was missing, so I kept searching. I’d always felt more comfortable outdoors by a lake or near moving water – river, ocean, stream, creeks. To me THIS was the real church of my spirit. I turned to Native American spirituality and that is where I found ME, believing everything and everyone is related to each other: plants, animals, fish, birds, trees, grass, the sky, the sun and the moon. Science calls this a "symbiotic relationship." I call it Life!

Language-wise, my heritage is no less of a mess. My first language was Swedish – I was born there, after all. My dad considered himself a visitor there, so I first learned Swedish, actually a dialect called Scanian, pretty much a "Southern" version of a Swedish drawl, with vocabulary drawn from both Swedish and Danish. This part of Sweden traded hands repeatedly between Sweden and Denmark. My mom’s family was half Danish, half Swedish. Her father, Gustav (AKA "morfar") was Swedish and her mother was Danish. Her mother died a few days after my aunt was born from a hemorrhage that was not discovered til it was too late. Private room in the hospital and no way for her to signal for help.

This part of Sweden is like the "South" in the USA in other ways than the mixed heritages. The food is richer, butter is more golden, buttermilk is a staple, and ham and pork are probably the meats that are most common. Oh, yeah, don’t forget the herring – pickled in many ways. And Akvavit is the aperitif of choice, specifically Absolut (TM) made right in Ahus, the little town where I spent many summers as a pre-schooler.

The Icelandic diet is very different. Fish and lamb prevail. Beef and veal are very expensive. Lamb is boiled, roasted, smoked and is the featured meat on all holiday tables. This was so in my Dad’s family even when my mom tried to introduce ham for the holidays. It was politely eaten, but they always returned to the staples, fish and lamb. To this day I am not overly fond of lamb, but can live on fish – especially when I find fresh haddock, cod and flounder, as well as salmon and trout.

However, in spite of this, my favorite foods are Italian and Greek.

So, in all, I don’t know if I have a heritage, at least not ONE heritage. I tend to lean toward the Swedish part of my family, and have kept up my Swedish as much as possible. I rarely speak Icelandic any more, and when I do it’s with a lot of difficulty. What I remember of Icelandic is basically the vocabulary of a 9 to 10 year old child.

So, who are my folk heroes? I remember my mom telling me stories of one of the Kings of Sweden, Gustav Wasa (pronounced as "Vasah"), fleeing from the Norwegians at one of the times that Sweden was trying to become its own country. The most thrilling moment came when he hid in an outhouse … well, UNDER the outhouse, hanging on to a crossbar while the Norwegian soldiers hunted him all over the property (supposedly not far from where my mom lived. I always imagined it being right under the outhouse at my Morfar’s beach house. Gustav Vasa hence became my hero.

My Great Aunt Edith and my Great Uncle Christian were my Danish heroes, and still are. During World War II, when Denmark was occupied by the Germans, they and many others took part in the Resistance, and resistance in every meaning of the word. When the Jews in Denmark were ordered to wear black armbands, the King of Denmark appeared with a black armband, and by the end of the week, there was not one Dane to be seen without a black armband. When the Germans were pursuing a Dane in their vehicles, the Danes would get on their bicycles by the thousands and make passage impossible, helping the hapless "criminal" escape the German military. When Edith and other women were ordered to knit socks for the German occupation forces, they did so, but would make sure there were plenty of knots – specially at pressure points, so wearing the socks under the boots became VERY uncomfortable. Any complaints from the officers were met with a shrug of the shoulders and "Hey, if you would give us better wool, it wouldn’t break so often and we’d not have to tie so many knots… "

To end this segment I have to say that even with my mixed heritage, I am still more American than anything else, and proud of it, even in these days. The Greeks say it best, without any hyphenation: "I am American of Scandinavian heritage."