Naming Conventions

Today had a few unexpected twists and turns. Kory thought the swelling in his wrist would be down enough to go to work this morning, but that wasn’t the case. He stayed home. My usual Monday off to have some peace and quiet didn’t happen because Kory was home. I took the day off school, but it was anything but quiet. I worked on my Bible study preparations while Kory rolled around under the houses for hopefully the last time, working up his monthly report to give to the new owners of The Sinking Houses. The new owners haven’t asked him to do the report, but he doesn’t break from his routines too easily. Kaleb rode his bike to school this morning, but Kory picked him up afterwards as there was so much “stuff” coming out of the sky it was unbelievable. It was like a torrential downpour, but it wasn’t raindrops, it was huge, wet, fierce snowflakes approaching horizontally. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t step foot outside once today because the downpours came and went the whole day. I probably could have benefitted from a walk in the rain, but never got up the gumption to go. And then the refugees called to say they had to go to some meeting tonight so they couldn’t make it to the Bible study. I’m glad I worked on the study anyway because I needed it. I’m forever falling short of all I know I should be and I am so thankful for forgiveness to wipe the slate clean. It’s never wasted time to study God’s word.

Once Kaleb got home, the quiet was shattered, so I started working again on my girlfriend’s family history search. I love that stuff. The only down side to spending so many hours doing it is the kink in my neck and my dead butt from sitting so long in front of the computer. I was reminded today of several old Norwegian naming traditions that have nearly gone by the wayside. It was common in Norway, for hundreds of years, to name the next baby born, after the last family member of the same gender that died. Sometimes that would be a grandparent, aunt or uncle, but most commonly it was the child born the year or two before. I’ve seen some families that have had four children, all with the same name. Personally it would give me the creeps to keep naming a baby after all the ones that died, but that’s just the way it was. It makes it very difficult to verify birth dates sometimes as I think I have the right kid, only to find out it was an older sibling that died in infancy.

First names in Norway were also very regional. Some names were only found is certain parts of Norway – like Kory’s dad’s name, Halvor – was very big in the south. Halvor was also the same name of several of Kory’s ancestors. The oldest son would always be named after the father’s father and the second son would be named after the mother’s father. The “last name” was the father’s name, plus “sen” or “datter” which means that most grandsons and grandfather’s have the same name. Halvor Gunderson would give his son the name Gunder, with the last name of Halvorson. Gunder Halvorson would then name his son Halvor, after his father, and his last name would be Gunderson. In Kory’s family, the name Halvor and Gunder go back to Viking times and he was so insistent we give Kaleb the name Halvor. I told him Kaleb already has to deal with Slaatthaug as a last name, so it was just a bit too much to put on a kid living in America. (Kaleb did get Halvor for one of his middle names though, as a compromise.) But the whole flip-flopping of names every other generation makes finding family records quite the challenge on one hand, but on the other hand, it’s easy to know if I’m on the right path. And sometimes the mother would give the daughter her name or her mother’s name. Immigration records in the U.S. show many women and girls with “datter” as part of their last name (i.e., Halvorsdatter), but that naming convention obviously died out when the women would either marry and change their name, or not marry and die with the name. Some immigrants to America used their official Norwegian last name when they registered, and that’s why so many Scandinavians are named Olsen, Larsen, Andersen, etc. (Norwegians use “sen” while the Swedes use the “son” ending.) But in Norway a person was always identified by three names – first, last, and farm name. That farm name was important because there were so many people with the same names in an area it was the only way to distinguish who was who. Many immigrants to America used the name of their family farm, or often, the name of the farm they had just been working on, as their last name. All farm names are some geological description of where the farm is so that’s why there are common endings like “dahl” (valley), or “haug” (hill) or “vik” (bay) because they describe a location. (Slaatthaug means “harvested hill.”) One of my ancestors had the last name of “Roisen,” which has been an embarrassment to certain relatives because it means “gravel pit.” That’s obviously where they were living before they moved to America – and is obviously a good reason to move.