But fate would not have it that way. Life was tough in Iceland in the 19th century. Most people were utterly poor, lived from hand to mouth, never owned anything but plenty of children \u2013 and perhaps a small flock of sheep. There had been natural disasters, volcanic eruptions year after year. The life stock fell and famine raged among the population. There was no future in Iceland. People felt abandoned and hopeless. \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n
And then somebody told them about America?<\/p>\n
In the year 1875 the exodus started. In the end more than one fifth of the Icelandic nation had emigrated to \u201eN\u00fdja \u00cdsland\u201c as they called it. All those who were strong enough, young and healthy \u2013 and had the means to buy the fare, that is \u2013 they sailed away from their motherland with a glimpse in their eyes and hope in their hearts.<\/p>\n
Our forefathers, your great-grandfather and my grandfather, also had a dream \u2013 to leave misery behind and settle with their families in the new unknown country beyond the huge and treacherous ocean.<\/p>\n
At the age of thirty my grandfather and grandmother had already brought six children to this world. Three of them had died from disease in infancy. They were so poor that they never could save enough money to pay the fare for five people. Einar, your great-grandfather, on the other hand, still had a small family and somehow managed to find money for the voyage. Then he left Iceland \u2013 never to return.<\/p>\n
These two brothers loved each other dearly. They missed each other all their lives. They wrote to each other ever so often, told stories of their struggle for a better life \u2013 but they never saw each other again.<\/p>\n
When I was seventeen I was sent to Canada \u2013 like an ambassador \u2013 to spend a summer with my family there. I stayed with your grandmother, Helga, in her little house on the shore of Winnipeg Lake. Except for the mosquitos \u2013 that loved my pale and delicate skin \u2013 I was very happy that summer. Everyone was kind to me, Helga the boss, hardworking and determined, your grandfather, Ken, who always saw the bright side of life and Charles and Ronald , both so sweet and handsome \u2013 I loved to take them for a swim in the lake and play ball.<\/p>\n
Then we went for a visit to Sigga, Helga\u00b4s sister, who was a saleswoman in a big magazine (I can\u00b4t remember the name) in Winnipeg. She was a real lady, with a shock of black hair and a narrow waste. Sigga gave me my first bra! I felt so shy to put it on, I had the feeling that everyone was looking at me! Vala, the third sister, was obiously the star of the family, always singing and laughing, with lots of kids and an energetic German husband, who owned both a hotel and a shop.<\/p>\n
But the highlight of my summer in Canada was our visit to Einar and S\u00f3lveig in Steep Rock. I can still remember their small house by the lake \u2013 and the boat, lying on the shore like a humble dog, waiting for the master to give orders. This boat had been Einar\u00b4s lifesaver all these years in the new country. The Indians, his neighbors, had taught him how to manipulate and react to weather, ice and big waves. He had been a fisherman \u2013 just like my grandfather in Iceland \u2013 and sold fish to the people in the neighborhood. He never became rich in the land of opportunities, but never suffered either.<\/p>\n
I sat by his side and watched him cry as he talked about his beloved brother whom he had not seen for fifty years. He asked me thousands of questions, just as if he were trying to relive their lives separated from each other. He held my hand all the time and stroked my hair. Oh, how dramatic and tragic all this was \u2013 something I have never forgotten.<\/p>\n
The brothers had a dream \u2013 a dream of a better life in the land of opportunties, America. One left, the other stayed behind. Both were fishermen, and both fought for survival from one day to the next. Life was tough for both of them \u2013 both in the motherland and in the new world. Where is the land of opportunities, any how?<\/p>\n
But for their descendants new opportunities opened up in the adopted country \u2013 and in the old one as well.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
N\u00fa \u00feegar \u00e9g les, a\u00f0 landfl\u00f3ttinn fr\u00e1 \u00cdslandi s\u00e9 a\u00f0 aukast enn \u00e1 n\u00fd, er
\nkannski r\u00e9tti t\u00edminn a\u00f0 leyfa ykkur a\u00f0 lesa br\u00e9f, sem \u00e9g skrifa\u00f0i fr\u00e6nku
\nminni \u00ed Kanada fyrir nokkrum d\u00f6gum, en forfe\u00f0ur okkar beggja \u00e1ttu draum um
\nbetra l\u00edf \u00ed henni Amer\u00edku. Um aldam\u00f3tin 1900 fl\u00fa\u00f0i fimmtungur \u00edslensku
\n\u00fej\u00f3\u00f0arinnar til Kanada.<\/p>\n
Erin Olivia Porter heitir fr\u00e6nka m\u00edn og vanta\u00f0i efni \u00ed leshring, sem h\u00fan
\ns\u00e6kir vi\u00f0 Winnipeg h\u00e1sk\u00f3la. Eitthva\u00f0 sem tengdist fyrri t\u00edmum, sag\u00f0i h\u00fan.<\/p>\n
As I sat down to write you this letter, it came to my mind how precarious and incidental life can be. If the two Icelandic brothers, my grandfather and your great-grandfather back in 1907, had been free men and lucky enough to be able to fulfill their dream, we might both have been born in Canada, most likely in Manitoba, and I would be visiting you at week-ends, or meeting you for a cup of coffee at one of the popular bars in Winnipeg. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-188","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","category-greinar_og_vidtol"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/188","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=188"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/188\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":527,"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/188\/revisions\/527"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=188"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=188"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jbh.is\/bs\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=188"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}