In the mid eighteen hundreds more Scandinavians including Norwegians began to move to the Midwest and into the newly formed states of Minnesota and Wisconsin. Among them was a group of Quackers and Haugeans who had come to America looking to get away from religious persecution and boredom. Yes, the Haugeans were a splinter from the Church of Norway, which, although was of course Lutheran, according to the Huageans had become rather “formal and lethargic” – Boring. And people were having a hard time staying away. Do you suppose they wanted to have Polkas during the Sunday service?
The Quackers and the Huageans did make it to the new land in Minnesota and because the climate was similar to back home, they adapted rather well, however, after a while there came to be a group who enjoyed staying out enjoying their piety a bit later at night than the rest of the group. Because they were out late being pious, they tended to want to sleep in on Sabbat – That means Sunday in Norwegian.
Two brothers, Brokk Gilbertson and Alfrigg Gilbertsen stood before the church council and asked that the services begin an hour later on Sabbat. To which the counsel simply said “Nei.” Brokk and Alfrigg felt they were treated unfairly. Brokk, being most upset stood up and said “Nei? Vi blir religiøst forfulgt. Vi drar!” In other words; “Nope!?! We are being religiously persecuted. We are leaving!”\
Alfrigg was not ready to make that move but he knew his brother well and when Brokk had made up his mind… He also was aware of the rebel, so to speak, in his brother – Brokk did change his last name from Gilbertsen to Gilbertson within the first two weeks upon their arrival – and being “hans bro” – his brother – he stood by Brokk.
So, feeling they were being religiously persecuted they decided to gather up their numbers of kin, about 65, and head out.
Brokk had been writing to their relatives back in Norway explaining the dilemma and had gotten word more of their clan would be coming to Wisconsin and, should it come to leaving Minnesota, they’d plan to meet at a certain place and on a certain date along the Mississippi River.
Brokk and Alfrigg had always been close and enjoyed being adventurers and adventuring together. Although Brokk had come to be the undisputed leader because he was the most charismatic and had better jokes, he had developed a bit of a name for being rather bad at reading maps. Getting back to Brokk being charismatic. If you look up “lack of charisma” you may find a family of Norwegian Lutherans. Being pious made one rather mellow and quiet, but someone had to lead. Besides, if you look up the Norwegian name Brokk, it means “name of a mythical dwarf”. Interestingly, when searching for the name Alfrigg, it too means “name of a mythical dwarf”.
It must have been the better jokes that put Brokk in the leadership role. These Lutherans would not stand for a formal and lethargic leader. The day finally came when the Gilbertsen and Gilbertson clans had had their wagons packed and were ready to make the trek to their new, permanent home. Being Norwegian Lutherans and all pious and mellow they were wished well in their travels and their new lives and they wished those staying behind well wishes and “Gode vekstsesonger” – good growing seasons.
The groups’ destination was to take them first up to Minneapolis for more supplies – this would take them less than a week and then they would head south for two or possibly three weeks arriving at the Mississippi River meeting point to join their kin from the old country. Finally, on the last leg of the journey, Brokk had figured another week or two to the final safe harbor so they left after the crops were brought in so they had supplies for the trip and before winter would greet them with hugs and kisses of frigid cold and gusting winds. Brokk decided if they went a bit east, then south they would have easier traveling to the destination and Alfrigg was proud of his brother as the trip went smoothly. They arrived at the meeting place in good time, but Brokk and Alfrigg were both surprised at how narrow the Mississippi River was here. Alfrigg smiled, a bit surprised but happy his brother had found a place they could cross if needed. All the Gilbertsens and the Gilbertsons were excited as the meeting date was now in the near future.
Soon the meeting date became the present date. The meeting date had arrived but the kin folk had not. Brokk sent some of Gilbertson’s male kin folk up the river a bit, and Alfrigg sent some of the Gilbertsen clan down river a bit just to ensure the old country kin weren’t sitting at another rendezvous place on the river. Brokk and Alfrigg smiled at each other but there now was some hesitancy in their smiles.
Alfrigg thought highly of his brother but did recall times in the past when Brokk had said he’d planned everything well and things had not gone quite as expected. Like the time Alfrigg thought Brokk had everything arranged and they headed for the fjord, just the two of them. The plan was to do some reconnaissance in the new world, then come back and lead their clans. They decided that once back they would each find wives and have big families so that in time, they would each have clans to lead.
As it turned out there had been some bit of confusion on Brokk’s part as they were planning to take a boat from Altafjorden led by Pastor Westrom to America and somehow Brokk managed to misunderstand this and he secured passage at Astafjorden with Pastor Waldenstrom. They were not concerned about the mix-up until two days after the boat launched when Alfrigg learned after talking to one of the shipmates that this ship was carrying missionaries on their way to Africa.
Always looking on the positive and deciding on making the best of it, for eighteen months the brothers worked as missionaries during the day and got jobs on the docks at night to make money for their return trip to Norway to start their respective clans. Alfrigg shook his head and smiled thinking of that ill-fated adventure and his brother’s planning skills. It wasn’t a smile of approval. “Ya, ya,” he said to no one.
The rendezvous date had now become a date in the past. The excitement and joy of the upcoming family reunion were turning to angst and concern for their yet unmet family as well as for themselves. Everyone became a bit restless as the winds were turning colder. After almost two weeks of waiting and sending small search parties out Brokk and Alfrigg, along with several other elders discussed how they should proceed. Should they move on or should they be patient and stay? A conclave at the enclave so to speak.
It was decided they would stay where they were hoping and praying that perhaps their kin from the old country had gotten held up. Brokk and Alfrigg argued they should set up for the long winter. To be patient and wait. They argued it was kin folks they were waiting on and shouldn’t move on, that there could be a hundred reasons for their tardiness. Delays in Norway, delays connecting with a party going west, God forbid bad weather on the way across the ocean. Alfrigg pointed out they had access to the Mississippi River, where there were fish, like perch and trout just like the old country, plenty of game to hunt for food and tanning, wood to burn and build with, and the soil was good.
After much discussion and little debate, the conclave decided to be patient, to wait for their kin folk. The decision was considered just, and wise. Brokk and Alfrigg stood in front of their clans and explained the decision. Patience would be their motto. Even if it took all winter into spring.
It is a historical fact that it took all the patience they could muster as the coldest cold, and the windiest winds of one of the coldest winters came to the river that year and it had proven wise that they were able to build proper shelter and have plenty of supplies and wood and fish and meat. They had built a semblance of a little village right there along the river in a cove cut out in the wooded sloping hills.
These hardy Norwegians’ patience was to be rewarded, as on one of the first days of spring out of those woods on those slopping hills came five men carrying light supply packs on their backs and long guns in their hands.
There was a small search party from the old country clan.
They decided there would be a celebration that evening and the new arrivals would explain how it had taken them so long to join the Brokk and Alfrigg clans. And what a story they had to tell.
When Brokk decided to travel a bit further east from Minneapolis before heading south the plotted trail moved them about twenty-seven miles east of the Mississippi River. Brokk had navigated the clans to the wrong river!
Brokk was ashamed, embarrassed, and humiliated by his error and was apologizing profusely to anyone and everyone within hearing distance. His eyes emptied tears and made their way down his cheeks to his sharp clenched jaws. But ever the “God bror” – good brother – Alfrigg stood by his side. “Brokk, you had a slight bump of your hand when drawing the path to the Mississippi, but your leadership and judgment brought us here to a good river. A most hospital river with all the things of the Mississippi but with less danger. We survived the winter well. No lives were lost and only a few men had some minor injuries building, hunting, and tanning. It was God who moved your hand and this is where we should stay. And we should call this place Brokkville.” There was a fine applause and raising of glasses. Brokk rose, now wiping the moistness from his face.
He spoke with a smile on his face. “Takk mine venner og familie. Men jeg vil ikke at landsbyen vår skal bli oppkalt etter fyren som gjorde en slik feil i navigasjonen. Jeg foreslår at vi kaller det Patience.”
In other words. “Thank you, my friends and family. But I would not want our village to be named after the guy who made such an error in navigation. I suggest we name it Patience.” Laughs went out and cups were hoisted. It was agreed the Norway clans who had spent the winter along the Mississippi would be fetched and this place, by an unnamed river, and wooded rolling hills would be where they’d make their home.
And it would be called Patience Valley.
Today, one hundred twenty years after Brokk and Alfrigg gathered their kin along this river there are almost five hundred households and roughly one thousand, one hundred and ten souls inhabit this land, approximately 98.51% are white, of that probably sixty percent were of Norwegian descent. Somewhere in the last one hundred twenty years, the descendants of Brokk and Alfrigg have allowed some other nationalities to join the community – there were 3 African Americans, who I suspect just happened to be visiting at a friend’s when the census taker stopped by, 2 Native Americans – probably getting a ride through town from the African American folks, 5 or 6 “others”, about 14 Hispanic and/or Latinos, working a now thriving furniture store and 1 Asian????
