Long Gone But Not Forgotten

Across the Fence #294

On a hilltop overlooking Bloomingdale, Wisconsin sits a small country church. A short, steep, winding, tree-lined road takes you up to the Bloomingdale Church, quietly nestled in a clearing among the trees. Behind the church is the well-maintained cemetery. Early pioneers of Bloomingdale and Vernon County can be found resting on this peaceful, secluded hilltop.

Many years ago my mother wanted to go for a ride on Wang Ridge Road and see the farm where she grew up, and then down in the Kickapoo Valley area to Bloomingdale. She wanted to show Linda and I where she had gone to church when she was young. I’d never been to the Bloomingdale Church and cemetery before. This was before I became interested in genealogy and didn’t realize Bloomingdale’s importance to our family history.

My mother was still in good health at the time and could walk around. She wanted me to know where some of my ancestors were buried. She showed us an old tombstone. It contained names that I had never heard of before. On one side it said Anne Pederson Korsveien (1802–1892). The other side of the tombstone had Agnethe Goldseth Korsveien (1827-1912), Anne’s daughter. My mother said they were my great, great and great, great, great grandmothers on her father’s side (Oscar Hanson).

Since that time, we’ve visited the cemetery many times. It had been many years since anyone had left a flower there, so Linda and I have planted flowers each year. If it wasn’t for the lives of these two women, I wouldn’t be here. Since that first visit to their graves, I’ve learned their story and they didn’t have an easy life. Anne, and her son and daughter, Peder and Agnethe, traveled from Norway to this area in 1854, only to find out her husband, Anders Pederson, who had gone ahead to establish a home for them, had been killed by lightning a month earlier. That was a tough beginning to a new life in this country. I didn’t want them forgotten. The least we can do is remember them with a flower.

During the past few years, the tombstone was starting to sink on one side. Each spring I was glad to find it was still upright. It’s a tall, slender stone that sits on a larger base and foundation. A year ago, the main stone was leaning so far over I was worried it would slide off and bust. I couldn’t let that happen. Last fall I managed to lay the heavy stone on the ground, next to the base. I planned to enlist the help of other relatives this spring and put a new base under it to straighten it up.

When Linda and I visited the cemetery this spring, I couldn’t believe it. The tombstone was standing tall and straight on a new concrete base. Other tombstones around it had also been repaired and straightened. I wanted to know who had taken the time and energy to do this. It had taken a lot of work to repair so many stones. As is often the case, we get busy and I didn’t ask anyone about the repairs.

One day this week, I just had to get out of the office during noon hour and get away from dealing with people for a while. I decided to go for a short drive in the countryside and refresh my mind and spirit. For some reason I decided to head toward Bloomingdale and then back to Westby on another country road. When I got to Bloomingdale I felt myself being pulled up to the cemetery. I decided to check on the flowers we’d planted. There was a man mowing the grass in the cemetery. After checking the flowers, I decided to ask the man if he knew who had fixed the tombstones.

I introduced myself and found out his name was Jim Fish. He provided the answers to my questions. I learned that Jim and his brother, Jerry, along with other volunteers, had repaired all the stones. I let Jim know how appreciative I was and how important that tombstone was to our family. Jim said that while they were fixing some of those older stones, his brother made the comment that no one was probably around who would even notice or care that the old stones were fixed. I was happy to let him know that I cared and how much it meant to me.

It’s so refreshing to find people like Jim and Jerry Fish, who are making sure this small cemetery on a hilltop doesn’t fall into disrepair. We often hear about vandalism and destruction of tombstones, but we seldom hear about the efforts of good people to keep them standing tall and intact.

I think if my ancestors, Anne and Agnethe Korsveien, were able to, they would embrace Jim, Jerry, and the other volunteers for making sure they’re not forgotten after all these years. Maybe they were the ones who were pulling me toward their resting place that day, so I could meet Jim and let him know how much all three of us appreciate their efforts. I think the spirits were very active in arranging our meeting on that peaceful hilltop.

Anne and Agnethe have been gone for a long time, but they are certainly not forgotten. They are still important family members.