2014 Family Journey - A Return To Where it All Began

Prior to making it to our final destination - Brookings and Volga, South Dakota, where the old family farm and home site was, we traveled back up into the Black Hills and visited Deadwood, an old west gold-mining town.  We would always stay at the old Franklin Hotel and while there we'd see the Old No. 10 Saloon, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed while playing poker.  We would always hike up to the cemetery atop Mt. Moriah to see his grave site, along with that of Calamity Jane and Potato Creek Johnny.

This time the area leading to the cemetery was closed for the season, so we didn't get to go, but we visited Adams Museum and saw the largest gold nugget found in the area by Potato Creek Johnny. The picture below shows my wife attempting to put a quarter in a parking meter.  Snow is almost to the top of it.  In fact, around town, there are red flags that are about six feet tall marking every fire hydrant so they won't be lost in the snow. Deadwood burned to the ground one night due to a bakery fire.

Lots of snow

With temps well below zero, our crew was thrilled to learn that the hotel we were staying in in Mitchell, South Dakota had a two story water slide in it.  Needless to say, they had a blast.  In fact, I heard it said that, "This is the best hotel in the world!"

Below zero outside - warm and toasty in the pool

The next morning we awoke and drove to Volga, South Dakota.  Volga has a museum that memorialized the ancestors that built the county.  We found pictures of my great uncle and names of other relatives, along with artifacts that were prevalent in times giving us a glimpse into the tools, dress, and customs of our ancestors.  Very interesting!

I really liked the verbiage found on a plaque on the wall just inside the museum.

Courage, Hard Work, and Citizenship - Great Attributes that need to come back in fashion

Behind the museum was a barn full of antique farm implements, including an old Farmall tractor.  Let me just say that the metal seat looked like it was very uncomfortable going over rough ground!

This was the old Sundet home (also one of our relatives).  Very small and very cold inside on this day.  We all remarked how hard it must have been to make it through a winter in this home.

Here was the old Medary Township one room schoolhouse where my grandfather went to school. First graders through Eighth Graders were all taught in this school. My grandfather told me that schoolchildren in South Dakota were asked to each bring a nickel to help pay for Mt. Rushmore.  He felt a sense of pride in personally helping with that project.

Mom & Dad outside the One-room school house

This school house was moved to the museum site, but was formerly in the country, near the family farm.

Inside, near the front of the class, was a cast iron stove.  The teacher would arrive early and get it lit to warm up the interior of the school.

On a list of attendees of the school that was on the wall, we spotted the name, "Orlando Sneve," my grandfather!  In thinking of Poppy, my grandfather, he'd often tell me, my brother and my sister that we were "the best kids in the world."  Now obviously we didn't remotely even come close to living up to being nominated for that award, but it made me think.  Perhaps his early life on the farm in harsh conditions, necessitated that he think positive thoughts.  He was always a "glass half full" type of guy, thinking the best of people even when we didn't deserve it.  

My mom's great grandparents immigrated to the United States from Norway and settled outside of Volga, South Dakota.  Settlers were given a 160 acre parcel of land to homestead with a few stipulations - they had to pay taxes on the land, they had to plant crops on the land and they had to live on the land at least six months of the year.  It was hard, the weather was brutal and living conditions were less than primitive. 30% of the settlers didn't make it and headed back east.  

Those who stayed worked incredibly hard and tamed the prairie, built churches and communities and families by sheer determination and hard work.  We journeyed 6 miles out of town to the old home place.  The original barn built in the 1800's and some of the outbuildings were still standing. Amazing!  Anything wooden rots so fast back in Louisiana.  The photo below shows what the home place looked like when the old home was still there.  A couple that purchased the farm spent the entire afternoon visiting with us and showing us around and telling us stories.

The Sneve Homestead

My grandfather would always tell me that he would have to tie a rope from the house to the barn so that in blizzards, they could find their way to the barn to take care of the animals.  Seeing it with my own eyes brought that story to life.  My mom told me that in the 1800's her great-grandfather was harvesting corn on their 160 acre farmstead and looked up and there was a Native American standing behind him.  He let him know that he wanted the sack of corn, so he gave it to the Indian. Later the same Indian returned with a sackful of geese that he had killed to return the favor.

Below is the old barn.  The large door in the top would open and they would stock the entire hay loft with loose hay.  You really had to prepare for the winters - long winters.  When I asked when Spring arrived up here, they laughed and said May or June.  Wow!  The barn was huge.  One side was where they would milk the cows and the other side was for horses.  I'll say it again: I'm amazed that this barn is still standing from the 1800's!

The Old Sneve Barn

Here is a silo and corn crib.  There was also a chicken house.  We were told that behind the silo is where my Uncle Vance kept his pet bear named Teddy.  Teddy was treated like a member of the family until he tore up all the clothes on the clothesline and my mom's grandmother made the determination that "the bear had to go."

Mr. Jensen, the current owner of the farm, had some Black Angus cattle in the stall below behind the barn.  They had thick coats and looked perfectly happy despite the fact that the wind chill outside was minus 25 below.  We saw lots of pheasants along the road and the snow was absolutely covered in rabbit and dear tracks.

As the sun set over the homestead, we all realized how bleak conditions must have been in settling this lonely country, how much work was involved in merely surviving, and how strong people had to be - how close knit families had to be to live from one day to the next.

Setting sun ushers in a frigid night and howling winds

We traveled a hop, skip, and a jump away from the farm to the Lake Campbell Lutheran Church that was built by settlers in the 1800's.  Our ancestors attended this church and considered it a very important part of the fabric of their lives. Family, Church, Neighbors, and Community were all very important.  Their very survival depended upon these institutions.  People had large families because you needed the labor required to work the land.  Due to disease there was a high mortality rate.  The church was located not far away from Lake Campbell - a lake that I would hear my grandfather talk about driving out on the lake and cutting a hole in the ice and going ice fishing on.

The beautiful Lake Campbell Lutheran Church

We walked through the graveyard that is on church property and found many headstones with the family name, Sneve, on them with first names like Mette, and Svend.

Where family members lie buried

The view below shows the graveyard and church all in one photo.  Does it look cold? It was really cold.

Today was my son, Russ', twentieth birthday.  I was thinking that it was fitting that on a day that we visited the old family farm where it all began and saw where our ancestors lay buried, we celebrated Russ' birthday.  It is up to the future generation to continue with the same work ethic, determination, and vision to survive and carry the family on into the future, but it is also up to the current generation to tell the stories of their family history.

"You are our living link to the past. Tell your grandchildren the story of the struggles waged, at home and abroad. Of sacrifices made for freedom's sake. And tell them your own story as well — because [everybody] has a story to tell." George H. W. Bush, State of the Union Address, 1990

I feel like our family heritage pilgrimage to the very ground that our ancestors called home was integral to telling that story.  I got, and I know our kids got, a better idea of who we are, and a real sense of the strong stock that was within the family members who settled the land.  The entirety of the trip and all we saw and learned inspired me and made feel feel more than a little guilty for sometimes wanting to give up when times get hard.  We really don't know hard times.  We discovered a lot on this trip.  I must admit, however, I still haven't discovered a taste for Lutefisk!