Like most people, I’ve wondered about my family‘s history and where we came from. Growing up, about all I knew of my mother’s family was that they were Norwegian. I knew of the foods and customs passed down from my grandparents, and I had heard my family mention a town in Norway.
In my twenties I got a chance to visit Europe, and I went partially in the hopes I might find my Norwegian family. After traveling through many countries, I found my way to Norway. I loved Norway from the start, partly because of family connections, partly because it reminded me of so much of Oregon. It pulled the heartstrings of a homesick young man far from home. I looked for the town I heard my family talk about, but a twist of spelling in Norwegian names took me to a different town and the first dead end in the search for my family roots.
Over the next several decades there were many more dead ends. This was before the internet, when family researchers worked with stories, vague recollections, disconnected and twisted memories. Where facts had to be gleaned from searching card files in libraries or poring through university and museum archives. Having failed my first try, I retreated to my unfolding life, but I always kept my interest in finding more about my Norwegian roots.
Besides my interest in family history, I am fascinated by Oregon history, and learned these histories were inextricably intertwined. I was in the modest historical museum in the small eastern Oregon town of Canyon City. Looking up at the portraits of a man and a woman, taken in the late 1800’s, I saw the placard read Fisk. I’d discovered my paternal grandparents. Who were these people, where had they come from, why, and what were they were like? I had to know more. And so, the search began. Forty years of family research later my family tree has grown to nearly 8000 people. It includes thousands of documents and hundreds of photos. And it created an unending desire to learn more about these people who lived long ago, and essentially, created me.
