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I tramped through drifts of leaves to get there, but get there I did, to the panel discussion about our Icelandic heritage. The panel members came early. Birna and Megan were already there. Ruth Cartwright, our vínarterta queen, arrived early. Gradually, people drifted in until we nearly had a full house. Not bad for a blustery, wet October day.

Dr. Megan Swift did the introduction of Birna Arnbjörnsdóttir, professor emeritus of second language studies at the University of Iceland, who holds a PhD in linguistics from the University of Texas, Austin. Her research interests include multilingualism and language contact. She is the project director of Icelandic Online and she has studied North American Icelandic as a heritage language for over thirty years.

Birna then got us to introduce ourselves, first with Kathy Arnason, then Bob Frederickson, then Ellen Guttormson, then me. Kathy told us about her family, growing up in Gimli, that her mother and my father were probably the only two dyed-in-the-wool Liberals in the town, how she got started with her huldufólk stories, and the effect on her of Dr. Leo Kristjanson. He encouraged her to write and, when she had one book done, he said one book doesn’t make a writer. You need to keep writing. She now has been writing for more than thirty years.

I met Bob years ago, visited him at his mansion in Oak Bay, then lost track of him when he moved to Vancouver. He’s now living in Nanaimo. He has an incredible life story. He held management positions at Monsanto and Eli Lilly & Company. He has a PhD. He only discovered his Icelandic background when he was around sixty, but has gone into it full force and is heavily involved with Hofsós. He has recently published the first book in a three-book series: New Iceland and Beyond: A 175-year Icelandic-Canadian Saga. It is for sale online.

Ellen said her grandfather was Oddur Guttormson and he came to Canada in 1893 with his siblings and his mother and father, who were Guttormur Thorsteinsson and Birgitta Maria Jósepsdóttir. They sold the family farm, which was named Krossavík, which was located along the southern part of the fjord a few miles from the community of Vopnafjörður in the northeast. Her grandmother was born in Canada to Icelandic parents. They came from the area close to Skagaströnd, north of Blönduós. 

I introduced myself by talking about growing up in Gimli and what not being FBI (a full-blooded Icelander) meant in terms of trying to figure out who or what I am.

Once we got going, the panel was interactive with each other and the audience. It was a group discussion. I seriously enjoyed hearing what everyone had to say.

The questions that Birna kept pulling us back to were these:

1. At one time Icelandic was the language of business, church, and daily life for the Icelandic settlers. That is no longer true. However, it is a code and a symbol for culture, ethnicity, and heritage identity. Is it possible to trace this transition through changes in business, church, and daily life? For example, the use of English in business, the change to English in publications such as Lögberg and Heimskringla, and the use of Icelandic in the church, at home, and at social events (such as the Icelandic celebration). How is ethnic pride demonstrated?

2. One of the findings of the Icelandic Heritage Project was the overwhelming pride the participants expressed in their Icelandic background. It is possible that this view is a result of the self-selected participants in the in the reported studies. People take part in the studies on Icelandic because they are proud of their heritage. But what about the others, who chose not to participate – is there documentation of different attitudes or views that differ from the ones expressed in the book? How do those views manifest themselves and how would we access them for further documentation?

3. One criticism of the book Icelandic Heritage in North America was that the book was written from the perspective of outsiders – that is, scholars in Iceland. Would the outcome have been different if it had more of a North American perspective and, if so, how? How can we encourage research by insiders in the community? 

4. Where are we headed? That is, the future of the Icelandic heritage in North America. What are the forces creating that future?

These questions could be the basis of an entire course. Any one of the questions could be the basis of an hour-long lecture.

The audience participated, adding comments and questions. None of us picked for the panel were experts who would know everything about the current state of Scandinavian classes in North American universities. The idea was to get what the normal, run of the mill, let’s have coffee and chat about the situation with the Icelandic Canadian identity.

Nobody threw a lot of facts around. Rather, they looked at their experience of growing up with an Icelandic inheritance. Kathy Arnason and I both come from Gimli, but live in Victoria, and are on the board of the Icelanders of Victoria. We were part of families with Icelandic heritage but, more importantly, we were part of an Icelandic community. We went to church services that were conducted in Icelandic, we were there for the transition to English. We were used to Lutheran ministers coming from Iceland and were there when that changed. We experienced the disruption of our Icelandic culture by the airbase that brought thousands of air force personnel through our town and who married a lot of the young women who then went off to far parts of the world. This was the Gimli experience that we shared with all the other kids who were from an Icelandic background: the Arnasons, the Finnsons, the Sveinssons, the Helgasons, the Petersons, the classes and classes of students going through the school system.

Bob talked about how it wasn’t until he was around sixty that he realized he had an Icelandic background and what that meant. He’s started late, but has become involved in a number of projects in Iceland. 

Ellen brought these interesting artifacts and talked about her father and his going to England during the war and staying for the whole six years. He brought back an English war bride. She said, the items that I brought were a spoon that was passed from my great-grandfather, Guttormur, to my grandfather, Oddur, and then to my father, Herman Guttormson. It was made from cow horn and had runic carving on the handle. Apparently, both her grandfather and great-grandfather used it as their porridge spoon. The small brass magnifying glass was brought back to Iceland by her great-grandfather after he had travelled to Copenhagen to do a watchmakers’ course. The tablecloth was made by her great-grandmother, but not sure which one.

Did we solve any great problems? I don’t think so. However, as Birna pointed out a number of times, as a group we are really interesting because, after four generations – let’s see, my great-great-grandparents, my great-grandparents, my grandparents, my parents, me – that is six generations, we still cling to and celebrate our Icelandic identity.

Kathleen read us a poem she wrote on the plane home from a trip to Iceland. The poem asks the question, Who am I? It’s a question a lot of people in a multicultural, immigrant country ask. Vestur-Íslendingur? A Western Icelander? And who is that?

As a person who has all these Icelandic ancestors, some whom I have known (my great-grandmother, Rikka Gottskálksdóttir didn’t die until I was eighteen and she came with the Large Group in 1876 at the age of three; Ketil Valgardson didn’t die until I was six; he came in 1878), but who now is only three-eighths Icelandic – half Northern Irish (which means Scots), and one-eighth English – who am I? I’ve been told I can trace my Icelandic heritage back to one of the sons of Iceland’s last Catholic bishop, but I can trace my Irish background back to the time of King William, and the English part back to some distant past. Meat, potatoes, carrots cooked together make a stew. A new identity. A Canadian stew?

And as Birna asked, what about all those people who drift away and don’t participate in Icelandic celebrations or clubs or Þorrablóts? People who aren’t hostile, but indifferent. The people who never get interviewed, never counted. How do you find them, get their input?

I was the lead person on the question of the future and its threats. In a previous session, Birna said that her grandkids speak English to each other on the phone. Iceland is inundated with English everything, and if kids want to stay current with music and movies and fads, the language is English. My answer was one word about the present and future being impacted. Sex. Or, if you want, Love. I think sex is more accurate.

I say that because of the story told about Hecla Island. When the Icelanders got there, there already was a sawmill with a Scottish owner and he wasn’t impressed by the Icelanders. He wasn’t kind to them. Then he met an Icelandic widow and, probably because of her vínarterta-making skills, married her. After that, he was much more affable. So much for keeping the bloodlines pure.

And my Icelandic great-grandmother, going to Fort Garry. Working in the kitchen, meeting a soldier, William Bristow, and marrying him. Moving back to Gimli. Having thirteen children.

Some Icelanders wanted to stay exclusive so much that they tried to arrange a move to Alaska. That didn’t work. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. In Iceland, men could not marry unless they were worth four hundreds. In other words, unless they could support a family. It took a man until he was middle-aged to save enough money to be able to marry. That’s why middle-aged men were marrying women young enough to be their daughters. One of the reasons for risking everything by coming to North America was the ability to get married.

It was obvious that there are a lot of people who value their Icelandic heritage (even if it is just three-eighths). The panel, the audience, surprisingly robust in Canada’s most English city. And then there is the Mid-Island Group and the scattered descendants of the settlements on Smith and Hunter Islands. The Vancouver group. And there, across the border, in Bellingham and Blaine and Seattle, our Icelandic American cousins.

Six generations on. Not bad. Not bad. Said in that understated Icelandic way.