THE SIGVALDASON FAMILY

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Biographical Information of BJORN INGVAR SIGVALDASON 1878 – 1947

Bjorn Ingvar Sigvaldason was born 14 April 1878 at Audunarstadir i Vididal, Thorkelsholshreppur, Vestur-Hunavatnssysla, Iceland, the eldest child born to Sigvaldi Johannesson, a farmer, and his second wife Ingibjorg Steinnun Magnusdottir, married in 1877 according to family records. Sigvaldi’s first wife, Gudrun Thorsteinsdottir, died following the birth of their son, Johannes Lindal Sigvaldason in 1876.

Biographical Information of GUDJONA LARA JOHNSON 1891 - 1986

Gudjona Lara Johnson (1891-1986)

· Born 4 February 1891 at Churchbridge, Saskatchewan, Canada, the eldest of two children of Gudni Jonsson (who took the English surname of Johnson after arriving in Canada) and Thora Jonsdottir. Gudjona Lara Johnson’s only sibling was a brother, Kristjan Thordur Johnson (ca.1892-1943), who married Halldora “Dora” Johannson Nielson, a widow from Copenhagen, Denmark with a daughter whom Kristjan adopted.

A STORIED PAST by Kristjana Magnusson Clark

During a trip to Arborg, Manitoba last October, I walked through our old family home, the Sigvaldason House, which is now awaiting restoration at The Arborg & District Multicultural Heritage Village. The original owners of this home had been The Oblate Fathers who were affiliated with the St. Benedict’s Convent. My parents, Bjorn and Lara Sigvaldason, were the second owners, followed by my brother Bjossi Sigvaldason and his family, then by the Frank Koblun family and lastly, the David Smolinsky family, who so generously donated the house to the Arborg & District Multicultural Heritage Village.

As I stepped into the house a flood of memories assailed me, for it has been said that every old house attains a certain mysterious beauty, with its storied past.
I was now reminded of some special events that had taken place during the many years when we sixteen children, ten girls and six boys, had lived there.As I stepped into the house a flood of memories assailed me, for it has been said that every old house attains a certain mysterious beauty, with its storied past. I was now reminded of some special events that had taken place during the many years when we sixteen children, ten girls and six boys, had lived there.

When I walked into Dad’s office room upstairs, I was reminded of how I loved to sit by the sunny west window, reading for hours on end. This small, sunny room, where the dappled afternoon sunlight cast tender ripples of light and shadow, was conducive to reading. The wonderful set of Book of Knowledge on the shelves in Dad’s office opened up a completely new world to me.