Departing for the New World a time of sadness
My grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. John Bauer, left Norka in 1875. They were one of forty-four families.
Emigrating families created a strange phenomena—household auction sales. The folks had been bound to their village for generations and most people lived out their lives without seeing such an event.
Nearly every family, after receiving permission to leave, would liquidate all expendable personal possessions to raise money for railway and steamship fares. Treasured feather ticks, bedding, pillows, sheepskin coats, dishes, blankets—anything that would bring a few rubles—was sold.
Leaving one’s ancestral village for America struck the emigrating family as an act of separation from kin forever. The separation from parents, brothers and sisters was as final as death for many of them.
In scheduling the trip, the emigrants had to avoid the weeks in early spring and early fall when most of the region’s black soil was waterlogged by snow melt or rains which made the dirt roads impassable
The solemn hour struck when the emigrating couple received their last Communion and the farewell blessing. On the day of departure, a small wagon, driven by a relative or friend, drew alongside the house door. The couple clambered aboard with two or three pieces of luggage.
After final farewells had been said—not only to family members, but friends and neighbors—the party was driven to the home of the wife’s parents, where the traumatic parting scene repeated itself. Finally the wagon pulled out of the village along the single dirt road in the direction of the point of embarkation.
Written by Milton Bauer - Portland, Oregon
This story was published in the Winter 2011 Norka Newsletter and is used with the permission of Jerry Krieger.