Going home with the Snorri Program

Author: Diann Barbacci, Winston-Salem, NC

My personal Snorri story is a bit unusual from the rest of the Snorri participants, in the fact that I was born and raised in Iceland. After moving to the US at the young age of 10, many subsequent summers were spent traveling back “home” with Mom (Alda) to visit Amma and Afi and the rest of the family. Mom made sure we all kept speaking Icelandic, so transitioning on family visits was quite easy. However, we did not attend school in the Icelandic school system. Instead, we attended the NATO school on base. Although I do read Icelandic, I am a more proficient speaker of the language.
Our father, John Barbacci, was stationed in Iceland during World War II. After spending a little more than two years in Iceland during the war, he went home to Pennsylvania when the war was over. After the war, with his aircraft mechanical knowledge, he quickly found a job with Lockheed. This job took him to France for a year. At the conclusion of that year, he was asked if he would like to continue working but return to the NATO base in Iceland and work there. It was on Dad’s return to Iceland that he met Alda. After the NATO base was built, commercial air travel began in Iceland. American Airlines began flying to Iceland and my mother worked as a waitress at the American Airlines café up on base. They met at the café as Dad was a prolific coffee drinker! Dad transitioned to working with the US Department of Defense as a civilian contractor. Mom and Dad were married and raised our family, all the while living off base with my grandparents for 20 years.
Both of my parents are now buried in Iceland. My grandfather was once asked, “What it was like having an American as a son-in-law?” His response, “He is the best there is.” Needless to say, we all had a close relationship with my grandparents. It was his dying wish to be buried at the foot of their grave. Dad passed away in 2015, but it was not until 2017 when my Aunt Jona passed, that we took his ashes to Iceland. Mom passed in 2020, two months before the pandemic lockdown, so we waited until 2022 to bury her ashes alongside Dad. I have been working on a family book about my parents’ time in Iceland for a while. As my Icelandic cousin Birna once said to me: You must tell the story. “Þetta deyr með þér.” Being the youngest, “it dies with me.”
So, my Snorri journey began during my Mom’s funeral. For it was at Mom’s funeral that my cousin Mágnea started telling me the story about our great uncle Óli, who emigrated to Canada. This was all news to me, but I promised her I would find a living relative. Not only have I found some relatives, but we have also met in Canada! Mágnea shared that my great-grandfather Konráð would often say how he regretted not finding his brother. Well, we have now come full circle.
It was during my family research that I came across the Icelandic Roots database, as well as the Snorri Program. While only scratching the surface, the Snorri Program allowed me to delve deeper into Icelandic history and gain a greater appreciation for the culture.
Reprinted with permission from Connect, the quarterly newsletter of the Icelandic National League of the United States (INLUS)