Family Origins

About 3-4 million years ago, our mothers followed the Nile, traveling out of Africa and into modern-day Turkiye. About 50,000 years ago, we lived in the Near East, including modern-day Iran, Jordan, Bahrain, and Lebanon. About 10,000 years ago, we followed the development of agriculture in Western and Eastern Europe, and Scandinavia, where we were some of the earliest farmers.

We can trace our family back to Charlemagne as well as some early Nordic, Pict, and Celtic kings (along with about 10 million other people). We come from Magna Carta barons, political prisoners, clergy, thieves, merchants, farmers, and sailors.

Today, our DNA shows we settled in Scotland, Ireland, England, Sweden, Norway, and Germany for hundreds of years, before coming to America. Our Viking index is about 25%.

Family Names

In ancient times, people had one name. When several people in a community shared the same name, they commonly differentiated them based on their occupation, residence, or parentage. As the Romans traversed Europe and Great Britain, the custom for more uniform surnames were adopted.

Scandinavians incorporated the father's name by adding 'son' or 'daughter' (like Hanson or Hansdotter), a practice known as patronymic naming. Sometimes, they also identified themselves by the name of the farm they resided on, such as "Revlin". Unlike many cultures, Scandinavian women retained their maiden surname rather than adopting their husband's upon marriage. First names were often not unique, leading to multiple children within families sharing the same first name -- but distinguished by different middle names!

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Grandma's House

The best summers were spent at Grandma's house on the rugged downeast coast of Maine. Our family would drive the hours-long journey from Boston to the sleepy small town of Blue Hill. We'd impatiently drive another mile out the other side of town on the Surrey Road. Laughter and sighs of relief filled our car when her house came into view - the first on the right after crossing the bridge.

Grandma's house was built 'northern' style with the barn attached by an enclosed porch. Long ago painted shut, the front door refused to open. Everyone entered through the back, making their way down a narrow dark hallway to grandma's kitchen.

The largest room in the house, the crowded yellow kitchen greeted guests with the mouth-watering aroma of blueberry pies and homemade doughnuts. A massive black wood-burning cook stove dominated the scene. Grandma kept it burning every day of the year. Heat and ash from the stove rose loftily through an overhead vent, warming the bedrooms above and permeating the blankets with the scent of wood smoke. Beside the stove squatted a battered old woodbox - the best place to sit in the wintertime.

In the far corner, a plain wooden table and a wringer washer stood beside the cellar door. Granddad's addition of a big old wooden platform rocker added to the Heinz 57 decor. On the north wall, the stained porcelain sink provided the only evidence of indoor plumbing. Trekking through the enclosed porch, the barn embraced you with the clean scent of horse and hay. Bright sunlight spilled in through the gaping plank walls. A wagon and sleigh stood to the right of the entrance, the horse stalls were on the left. Down the length of the barn, over the uneven dirt floor, through the back work shop, was the outhouse. A treacherous journey by day, no one ventured through at night.

- by Kate Montressor

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