I used to call my Uncle Erlingur "Boris Spassky", because we both liked to play chess. And as a hotshot young player, I chose "Bobby Fischer" as my persona.
That's Erlingur on the left, with my grandmother in the middle and my Dad Gunnar on the right. My aunts Asta and Diane aren't in the photo.
They were heavily into Boy Scouts. I used to go through my Dad's notebooks and photo albums, and -- mixed in with everything else -- were his Scout notebooks, with pressed leaves, sketches and descriptions of plants, all in his terrible handwriting.
They loved their Mom, who was my Amma. She raised them in Winnipeg after my grandfather died in 1942. It's weird to have a grandfather who died 27 years before I was born. He started out in Iceland, then came to Winnipeg alone when he was just a kid. Ended up in business, buying land, building apartments, watching his large tracts of land get whittled away by taxes during the Depression.
Amma also came to Winnipeg when she was young. Her name was Thorey, which I always thought was a beautiful name. I guess that's why I've always like Dorey for a girl's name. Amma's parents farmed near Akureyri in the north of Iceland. They died of a communicable disease when she was a teenager, and she could only stay with aunts and uncles for a while. Eventually, she made the trip to Winnipeg, where there were relatives and the hope of a family and prosperity.
She was the second wife to Arni Eggertson, and my sisters often wondered what it must have been like to be the child of the family's former housekeeper. Dad never complained about being an outcast or anything, but I think he always felt he was trying harder to maintain family ties than any of his half-siblings.
I got to spend many afternoons over at Amma and Asta's place. By then they lived on Academy Road, across the street from a drug store that sold comic books and candies. Life was good, especially when the toy store opened on the corner.
Amma died when I was 12. Mom says she always regretted not taking me to the funeral in Winnipeg. Erlingur died when I had stopped thinking of myself as a young man, but wasn't thinking I was middle-aged. He and Dad both suffered from a form of dementia that saw them become childlike, though always kind and always full of energy until near the end.
Dad died before our third child was born. He was a hollow man in his last years. His personality persistently showed through his disease, but he didn't have the mastery of mind to function in the world. What made the dementia a little bearable (but not much) was that the thing that made Dad and Erlingur so special was their ability to see the world as a child sees it. That almost naive sense of wonderment probably didn't help their corporate lives, but it was a wonderful thing to have in a father and an uncle. And we could always see a bit of that wonder and humour in their eyes, even as the disease took away their grown-up skills.
I am the son of Svein Halldor Octavius Eggertson former physician. My grandfather was Arni Eggertson lawyer and his father my great-grandfather was Arni Eggertson who was a broker and builder. My grandmother was Maja Laxdal the daughter of Grimmer Laxdal and Sveinbjorg Torfadottir. I recall my father talking of your father Erlingur on many occasions. Would like to hear from you.
Posted by: Douglas Eggertson | July 30, 2005 at 11:17 AM
Douglas:
I'll send you an e-mail. Thanks for getting in touch. Just to clarify, my uncle is Erlingur and my dad is Gunnar.
Posted by: Eric Eggertson | July 31, 2005 at 12:16 AM