Anne Lee Enger on her 80th birthday, 1925
Ingeri Østensdatter, Anne's mother, is buried
in Hanley Falls, Minnesota under the name of Ingri Enger.
When Ingeri Østensdatter married Elling Fredericksen Ringerud in 1842 it was the second marriage for both of them. Ingeri had previously been married to soldier Asle Clemetsen Lien in 1830 and had two children, Christian and Gunhild. Elling Fredericksen had previously married Berit Pedersdatter who drowned in the Grythe River in 1837. They had four sons, Peder, Ole, Knut and Frederick, and four daughters, Gertrude, Ragnhild, Marie and Berte. The marriage of Ingeri and Elling produced two daughters, Berit born 1842, and Anne born 1845.
After Elling Fredericksen's death I can only imagine that it was a hard life for Ingeri and her two young daughters, and in 1861 they emigrated from Ringerike to America on the ship Askur, the same ship that carried Peder Enger and family. Four years later in 1865 Anne married Elling Enger, Peder's eldest son.
Bestemør, 1845-1928
Anna Lee Ellingsdatter Enger
After Elling's death, Anna lived with one or another of her children for the rest of her days. My father had many stories about his Bestemør (Norwegian for Grandmother) who was somewhat of a character. Anne lived with Ed and Hannah Enger for some time when my father was a little boy. He slept in her bed and she would tell him stories about the "little people" which she herself totally believed. The little people would sometimes come and do good things around the house when the residents were away, or sometimes they would do mischievous things that could not be explained any other way.
One story she told was that she had left some unfinished sewing on the sewing machine at a time when she had to leave for a few days. When she returned home all the sewing had been completed by the "little people" who had come in while she was gone. She also told ghost stories which would scare the children, but she really believed them! When my Dad was older and Bestemør was staying at their house she would sneak into his room at night to visit with him, and she would let him smoke and not tell his parents. Sometimes she would take a few puffs herself!
Anne was a midwife and country doctor of sorts, and she would go to homes of people who were sick to administer home remedies or to help deliver babies. She herself believed in using a blood-letting tool to relieve pressure and release sickness from the body. The instrument was a small spring-loaded knife which would be used to cut into the vein and let out some blood. When she was older she would get my grandfather Ed to use the blood-letter on her when she wasn't feeling up to par.
Blood-letting instrument known as a lancet
In her later years Bestemør lived with her youngest daughter Lena O'Connor (Jim) and family in Granite Falls, Minnesota, the county seat of Yellow Medicine. Jim and Lena's oldest daughter Myrtle recalled the blood-letting incidents in a letter written in 1976; she wrote:
"Now about the little blood instrument. I well remember that. Every so often we would have to write to Uncle Ed (my grandfather Edward Enger) and tell him to bring it with him the next time he came. Then all of us kids would be ordered out of the house. We wanted so to be in there and watch but 'No.' Mother would have all kinds of nice white rags on hand and when we got to come in Bestemør would be on the couch with her leg all bandaged up. Bestemør told me one time that she could tell when her blood thickened up and then Uncle Ed would use this instrument to cut into a vein to draw blood out. After that she would feel just fine! I know she was real limber. She could crawl under a fence faster than us kids!"
Probably the best eye-witness account of Bestemør, through the eyes of child, came from a story written by her youngest granddaughter, Irene O'Connor (Navarre), as she recounted her memories of her grandmother. I will quote, verbatim:
"It was Irene's tenth birthday and no one was paying attention. Feeling carefully of the package of modeling clay on her lap, Irene sat quietly between her older sisters in the back seat of her father's 1928 Model T Ford Sedan. No one spoke."
"The family was returning from Granite Falls, a small Minnesota town, where her father had handed her a dollar bill and had told her to choose her own birthday present. The other members of the family had gone into the mortuary to make arrangements for her grandmother's funeral. Bestemør, which is Norwegian for grandmother, had died at the age of eighty-four after a lingering illness. Irene's mother and father had converted the library into a bedroom where Bestemør had lain ill for a month. The night before, Dr. Sanderson had been called out to their farm and, after a time at Bestemør's bedside, had come slowly out, gently pulling the sliding doors shut. He said, 'She is gone.' He added that it was simply old age and that, because bodies wore out like anything else, hearts just stopped beating. Irene's mother cried, and father patted her cheek and held her hand."
"The funeral for Bestemør was to take place in two days. Irene had never been to a funeral. Her mother explained that a funeral was a church gathering for relatives and friends where the pastor told all about the departed one who was going to her reward in heaven. Irene wanted her Bestemør to go to heaven.
but, to tell all?"
"What if Pastor Wrolstad told all those people that Bestemør was cruel to little children? Hadn't she forbidden Irene and her sister the pleasure of skating and sledding on Sunday with a stern lecture that they keep the Sabbath? And on Halloween! Their tears and coaxing were of no avail. Bestemør said that 'trick or treating' in scary costumes was the devil's work and that it only taught children to be beggars! Imagine! How cruel!"
"Bestemør also said that the devil was in your feet if you didn't sit still at the table. She seemed to be on familiar terms with Odin and Thor, who Irene was told, were ancient Norse gods---and Irene knew that the first commandment said there should be only one God. Oh, wicked Bestemør! Did all-knowing Pastor Wrolstad know?"
"Also, Bestemør was unfair. She demanded that Irene walk upright with toes pointed straight ahead. Anyone could see that Bestemør was stooped shouldered and her pigeon-toed walk was evident despite the long unfashionable skirts she persisted in wearing. Irene's mother and her friends wore short dresses. Bestemør wore her hair parted straight down the middle, braided tightly, sometimes wound into a little ball in the back. On top of that she often wore a funny black bonnet with a bow tied under her chin. The bonnet had a black satin rosette over each ear. Now really! If only Bestemør would try to be like other grandmothers and mothers. Furthermore, it was embarrassing to see her take out her false teeth and put them in a little china box. She looked funny without her teeth, but Bestemør said her false teeth hurt her, and she refused to wear them. She was stubborn, too, thought Irene."
"Irene felt the outline of her second purchase with her birthday money. This was a pipe that blew soap bubbles. Soap reminded her of how Bestemør scrubbed Irene's neck and face when Irene was small. Sometimes soap got in your eyes and soap brought tears. She recalled one time during this uncomfortable ritual her mother had returned from a trip wearing a new hair style. She had the very first bobbed hair in Yellow Medicine County! Well, Bestemør just scolded her about it; and further, told Mother to go and wash off the white powder she had on her face. So she treated Irene's own mother badly, too! How would Pastor Wrolstad explain that to everyone? Irene continued to worry for two days."
"And now the day of the funeral was here. Only an hour from the time of the funeral. Once again Irene was sitting between her sisters in the car on the way into town. Wishing someone would say something, Irene looked at her sister Evelyn who was looking out the window. Evelyn liked to count telephone poles. Irene looked at her older sister, Myrtle, who was staring straight ahead at their father. Myrtle was eight years older than Irene and often acted like a mother. She was 'papa's big girl' and spoke only to their father most of the time. She would hurry to meet him and tell him the events of the day. She was Sooooo grown up! She even had a boyfriend!"
"Despite the quiet, Irene had heard that most of Bestemør's relatives were coming to the funeral. Certainly Pastor Wrolstad wouldn't tell all the relatives about Bestemør! Irene sighed and tried to think of something good. Bestemør did read a lot and kept up on current events. Her reading glasses, 'her brille,' always rested on her forehead. She would wait for the mailman's cloud of dust as he drove down the state road a quarter of a mile away. Then she would order Irene or Evelyn to go to the mail box for the mail. Sometimes they would loiter and pick tiger lilies and buttercups near the slough on the way back. They would get a scolding for that!"
"On the day the Decorah Posten, a Norwegian weekly newspaper was delivered, she would send them early to wait for the mailman. That would be her best day, settling in her rocking chair to read the paper from page one straight through to the funnies on the back page, where 'Han Ola' and 'Han Per,' Norwegian immigrant men, struggled with the new language and new ways of American life. Irene guessed Bestemør saved the best til last, the comic strip was her favorite. She would rock and chuckle, reading and re-reading the comical problems of the immigrant families. The cartoonist, Bestemør said once, grew up in Spring Grove, Minnesota where she and grandfather Elling Enger once lived."
"Bestemør used to talk about their grandfather, Bestefår, coming to America. She said he came in 1854, a boy of eighteen, from Eggedal, Norway. She told of his travels across the United States by ox-drawn wagon to the Midwest and to California in search for gold. He returned by stagecoach to homestead in Minnesota when the Homestead Law was passed. Then he married Bestemør. She told of the many hardships they shared, the infant deaths, the terrible blizzards, prairie fires, and Indian uprisings."
"Irene felt that her Bestemør treated her as if they were still living on a frontier. She gave Irene many daily chores. One was gathering eggs in the hen house. She insisted that Irene take the eggs from the hens before the hens left their nests 'to avoid damage or soil.' That was cruel. The upset hens would cluck and peck at Irene. But Bestemør wanted fresh clean eggs. Irene had a stick to press the hen's head down while she cautiously removed the warm eggs from beneath the resisting feet and flapping wings."
"Irene also picked vegetables, shelled peas, cleaned lamp chimneys, filled the kitchen stove reservoir with water, and removed soot from under the fire box. She hated cleaning the stove; even worse than that was emptying the chamber pot each morning. Bestemør said that all these daily chores were good for developing character, whatever that was!"
"And all this was ordered in the Norwegian language! She did not learn English because she could speak in her native tongue to Irene's mother and aunts and uncles! Yet she insisted that her grandchildren study, learn, and get good marks in school. Bestemør was terribly unfair, and a scold, too!"
"Irene looked about her and saw that the church was filled. She was very uncomfortable having been seated in the first pew directly in front of the pulpit. She looked up toward the altar. Only Bestemør's face showed in the open casket. Irene raised up in her seat and stretched forward to see a small book in Bestemør's hands. It was a book of hymns. That was nice! One could hardly see her gnarled and bent fingers, which Irene had always compared to her mother's attractive hands. But then, Bestemør always seemed to get ahead of Mother in doing the heavy work in their home."
"Oh! Bestemør was wearing her teeth! And look at all those flowers around her! Irene could smell the scent of the lilies. She looked past the coffin to the painting of Jesus in back of the shiny, varnished altar rail with its padded red velvet for kneeling. Jesus' face had a kind expression, she thought. Maybe he would forgive Bestemør her wicked ways! Irene felt terribly guilty for some unexplained reason. She shut her eyes tightly and said a prayer for Bestemør."
"There were hymns, a lady sang a song, and then Pastor Wrolstad stepped up in the pulpit to speak. To Irene, the terrible moment had come! 'Please don't tell all those people everything about Bestemør!' Pressing back in her seat, Irene shut her eyes again and said another prayer."
"In her anxiety, she missed the pastor's opening remarks. She gradually became aware of his words. "...a dear mother and grandmother of noble character.' (That very word that Bestemør said so often.) '... her courage in facing life on a frontier, braving the elements, loving and caring for her family in adverse conditions...' '...in later years aiding in rearing her grandchildren during her daughter's illness...' 'all here today can be proud of being related to or knowing Anne Lee Enger, who now is leaving behind her the results of her wisdom, teaching, and industry, a legacy more precious than gold...' '...a blessed soul...deserving of a place in heaven.' "
"What was the pastor saying? Why, he was not blaming Bestemør for anything! Irene could scarcely believe her ears! She pressed back into the pew in confusion; and she vowed that no one would ever know what she had been thinking. Then Pastor Wrolstad stepped down, and a lady ended the service with a sad song about someone going into a garden alone and walking with Jesus."
"After saying the Lord's Prayer, the relatives and friends passed by the coffin to say 'goodbye' to Bestemør. Everyone seemed very loving. Irene felt her sister take her by the hand, and as they paused to say farewell, Irene looked closer than she ever had at that still face. Except for her teeth, Bestemør appeared the same as she always had. Pastor Wrolstad didn't know Bestemør very well after all, Irene decided. She glanced up at the all-knowing face of Jesus. He would answer Irene's prayers and forgive Bestemør for her sins and let her enter heaven. Irene hesitated before the coffin. She would have liked to pat her Bestemør's wrinkled face, but chose not to do so, and she walked outside into the August sunshine."
"Once again, Irene was in the back seat of the Model T Ford, sandwiched in between her sisters. Again, silence. Then her mother began to cry and to blow her nose. Evelyn was looking out the window. Irene guessed she was counting telephone poles. Myrtle had nothing to tell, because they had all shared the details of their mother's sorrow the past days. Silence."
"Irene closed her eyes, and suddenly a wave of relief and happiness came over her. She smiled as she imagined heaven's gates opening. Beyond the gates she saw a beautiful garden with angels flying overhead. And there was Bestemør, bent shoulders and pigeon-toed, carrying her beloved hymnal, walking firmly through the golden gates of heaven.!" THE END
Irene O'Connor Navarre in Albuquerque 2004
That's all for now. No one could have said it better! Irene O'Connor Navarre is now a gracious lady of 95 years, living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. More about her remarkable life in a later blog session!
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