Core of Conviction : My Story (9781101563571) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Michele Bachmann
without any special permission we can enter almost any profession and make an honest living. This we consider more wonderful than riches.â Freedom! What a wonderful word, brightening the hearts of people all over the world.
One of those who learned of the Muskego manifesto was my great-great-great-grandfather, Melchior Monsson. He was born in 1812 into a family too poor to afford any education; he learned to read only late in life. As a young man, Melchior enlisted in the army; because he was tall, he was picked for the Kingâs Guard. But lifelong military service was not for him, and he went back home to be a farmer. When the exciting news of the Muskego Manifesto rippled through Norway, Melchior was already well into middle age. This was at a time, of course, when the average life expectancy was perhaps half of what it is now. So in terms of the likely number of years left to him, there wasnât much reason for him or his wife, Martha, born in 1815, to leave Norway and start over.
Still, the celestial fire of freedom was sparked within Melchior. He and Martha agreed that they wanted a better life for their five children; that was the most important thing. And if that meant crossing the ocean, traveling to what Norwegians were to call
Vesterheim
âthe western homeâwell, thatâs what they would do.
Indeed, all across Europe, striving peopleâthe âhuddled masses, yearning to breathe free,â in the immortal words inscribed on the base of the Statue of Libertyâhad the same idea of seeking a better life. They were coming to America.
In 1857 Melchior sold the farm, along with everything else the family owned, to buy passage on a ship to journey across the Atlantic. There were five children: Gjertru, Halvor, Elin, Monsine, and Ingeborg Marie. But when the Monssons arrived at the dock, the captain looked at Halvorâmy great-great-grandfatherâand declared that he was an adult and would have to pay full fare. Halvor was only eleven, but, taking after his father, he was tall and looked much older. The Monssons didnât have any extra money for the additional fare; they had spent everything they had on the tickets.
It was a heart-wrenching dilemma. The farm had been sold; there was nothing anywhere in the Sogn region for the family to go back to. So Melchior made a painful decision. He told Halvor that he would have to walk back to the old village, hoping that someone would take him in so he wouldnât starve. Someday, the father pledged, they would earn enough money to bring him to America. But not now.
As a mother of five, I pause over that story, because itâs impossible for me to imagine being cruelly separated from one of our sons like that. The pain that Martha Monsson must have felt at that moment still lingers in my soul.
But then, just at the moment when the ship was about to push off, the heart of the captain softened and he took pity on the Monssons, saying, âOh, I guess the boat wonât sink if thereâs one more on board. Hop on!â The boy-man scrambled onto the ship like a jackrabbit. Hallelujah! The family was reunited.
Yet the Monssonsâ arduous journey was just beginning. In those days, a passage across the Atlantic Ocean took at least two months. Arriving in Canada, the Monssons next had to spend six weeks traveling overland, carrying their belongings from Quebec all the way to Dane County, Wisconsin, where a Norwegian family was waiting to host them. When the Monsson family finally arrived, they dropped down in front of the house in sheer exhaustion. The welcoming family rushed out to give them milk and bread. Thinking back on this kindness, I recall the biblical injunction: Love the stranger, because you were once a stranger yourself. Miraculously, all seven Monssons had survived the long trip from Norway.
Soon these strangersâor rather, these new Americansâwere back on their feet, although fully aware that their trek
One of those who learned of the Muskego manifesto was my great-great-great-grandfather, Melchior Monsson. He was born in 1812 into a family too poor to afford any education; he learned to read only late in life. As a young man, Melchior enlisted in the army; because he was tall, he was picked for the Kingâs Guard. But lifelong military service was not for him, and he went back home to be a farmer. When the exciting news of the Muskego Manifesto rippled through Norway, Melchior was already well into middle age. This was at a time, of course, when the average life expectancy was perhaps half of what it is now. So in terms of the likely number of years left to him, there wasnât much reason for him or his wife, Martha, born in 1815, to leave Norway and start over.
Still, the celestial fire of freedom was sparked within Melchior. He and Martha agreed that they wanted a better life for their five children; that was the most important thing. And if that meant crossing the ocean, traveling to what Norwegians were to call
Vesterheim
âthe western homeâwell, thatâs what they would do.
Indeed, all across Europe, striving peopleâthe âhuddled masses, yearning to breathe free,â in the immortal words inscribed on the base of the Statue of Libertyâhad the same idea of seeking a better life. They were coming to America.
In 1857 Melchior sold the farm, along with everything else the family owned, to buy passage on a ship to journey across the Atlantic. There were five children: Gjertru, Halvor, Elin, Monsine, and Ingeborg Marie. But when the Monssons arrived at the dock, the captain looked at Halvorâmy great-great-grandfatherâand declared that he was an adult and would have to pay full fare. Halvor was only eleven, but, taking after his father, he was tall and looked much older. The Monssons didnât have any extra money for the additional fare; they had spent everything they had on the tickets.
It was a heart-wrenching dilemma. The farm had been sold; there was nothing anywhere in the Sogn region for the family to go back to. So Melchior made a painful decision. He told Halvor that he would have to walk back to the old village, hoping that someone would take him in so he wouldnât starve. Someday, the father pledged, they would earn enough money to bring him to America. But not now.
As a mother of five, I pause over that story, because itâs impossible for me to imagine being cruelly separated from one of our sons like that. The pain that Martha Monsson must have felt at that moment still lingers in my soul.
But then, just at the moment when the ship was about to push off, the heart of the captain softened and he took pity on the Monssons, saying, âOh, I guess the boat wonât sink if thereâs one more on board. Hop on!â The boy-man scrambled onto the ship like a jackrabbit. Hallelujah! The family was reunited.
Yet the Monssonsâ arduous journey was just beginning. In those days, a passage across the Atlantic Ocean took at least two months. Arriving in Canada, the Monssons next had to spend six weeks traveling overland, carrying their belongings from Quebec all the way to Dane County, Wisconsin, where a Norwegian family was waiting to host them. When the Monsson family finally arrived, they dropped down in front of the house in sheer exhaustion. The welcoming family rushed out to give them milk and bread. Thinking back on this kindness, I recall the biblical injunction: Love the stranger, because you were once a stranger yourself. Miraculously, all seven Monssons had survived the long trip from Norway.
Soon these strangersâor rather, these new Americansâwere back on their feet, although fully aware that their trek
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