"You Must tell the story"

Diann and husband Russ at Minjasafnskirkja Church in Akureyri.

Diann Barbacci 
Winston Salem, NC 
Snorri Plus 2024 

Most Snorri and Snorri Plus participants are several generations removed from their Icelandic ancestors, descended from those thousands of Icelanders who emigrated across the Atlantic starting in the mid-19th century. In that regard, I’m a bit of an outlier, since I was born in Iceland and raised there to the age of 10. My Snorri journey began at my mom’s funeral in 2022. After the service, my cousin Magnea started talking about our great uncle Óli, who emigrated to Canada in 1911. As our family historian, Magnea had done some research in the Íslendingabók genealogy database and found that Óli departed Iceland with his wife and four children. This was all news to me, and we had little else to go on, but I promised her I would continue the search and find a living descendant of Óli’s in North America. That research led me to the Icelandic Roots database and the Snorri Programs.   

After moving to the US as a child, I spent many subsequent summers traveling back “home” with my mom, Alda, to visit Amma and Afi and the rest of the family. My American father, John Barbacci, was stationed in Iceland during World War II. A little history refresher may come in handy here: After the Nazis invaded Denmark and Norway, Britain invaded Iceland on May 10, 1940, to prevent a potential German occupation and secure a strategic location for British naval and air patrols. On June 16, 1941, with British troops needed elsewhere and the US having entered the war, the US military officially took over the occupation of Iceland.  

At the end of the war, having been in Iceland for a little over two years, Dad returned to Pennsylvania and quickly found work as an aircraft mechanic for Lockheed Airlines. That job took him to France for a year, and at the end of that year, he was asked if he would like to return to the NATO base in Iceland and continue working there. 

It was upon Dad’s return to Iceland that he met my mother, Alda. The establishment of the NATO base at Keflavík at the end of the war had brought commercial air travel to Iceland. American Airlines began service to Iceland, and my mother got a job as a waitress at the American Airlines café on base. That’s where she met my dad, who was a prolific coffee drinker! Dad later transitioned to working with the US Department of Defense as a civilian contractor.   

Mom and Dad were married and raised me and my siblings, all while living off base with my Icelandic grandparents in Ytri-Njarðvík. My grandfather was a highly respected fisherman in the community and did quite well for himself. My dad spent a total of 20 years in Iceland and assimilated well, even learning the language. My siblings and I attended the NATO school on base at Naval Air Station Keflavík, but Mom made sure we spoke Icelandic fluently – and kept it up after we moved to the US. ​

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When we were growing up in Iceland, my grandfather and his siblings (brother Valdi and sister Magga) were all very close, and we visited them in Reykjavík often. Even after moving to the US, every subsequent family trip to Iceland included visits with Valdi and his wife Binna, and Magga and her husband Steini. My cousin Magnea (Valdi's granddaughter) and I are of the same generation. She once shared with me that my great-grandfather Konráð moved in with Valdi and Binna in his later years. She recalled Valdi often saying that Konráð regretted never finding his brother Óli. It took me over a year, but with information gleaned from Icelandic Roots, a great amount of research, and many, many phone calls to churches and funeral homes, I found our living relatives - Óli’s descendants – in Canada.   

I will never forget the phone call I received from a Lutheran church secretary in Ft. Francis, Ontario: “I have found your cousin Helen,” she said. “She asked that I share her phone number and she’s expecting a call from you.” A few months later, my husband and I made a special trip to Fargo, North Dakota for an event. I called Helen and we drove north to meet her for what I thought was just going to be coffee in International Falls, Minnesota. Instead, Helen, her brother Oliver, and their families took us out for dinner – all 30 of us. When Helen and I met in the parking lot, we immediately got goosebumps because we even look alike!  

On one of our earlier family trips to Iceland, we had visited the Emigration Center in Hofsós, but at that time we were still completely unaware of our personal connection to the emigration story – Óli’s journey to Canada. Now I know that Óli, while still living in Iceland, had a daughter with a woman name Þórunn Bjarnadóttir. Óli and Þórunn never married, but in 1898, Óli married Jóna Gísladóttir from Ísafjarðarbær, a small fishing village in the Westfjords. Óli and Jóna had four children together in Iceland. Throughout this period, many members of Jóna’s family had emigrated to Canada and begun farming there. In 1912, a year after Óli and Þórunn’s daughter Sigríður Elín tragically died at the age of 17, Óli and Jóna followed in Jóna’s family’s footsteps and emigrated to Canada with their children. They would go on to have three more children. 

Though I’d made countless trips back to Iceland over the years, the Snorri Plus program last summer gave me a different experience of my home country. I learned more specifics of Icelandic history, from Leifur Eiríksson to Danish rule. I connected with two cousins, one I grew up knowing but hadn’t seen in years and another I had never met before. And I was able to further feed my curiosity about life in Iceland during WWII. Before embarking on my Snorri trip, I had begun reading G. Jökull Gíslason’s book Iceland in World War II: A Blessed War. Little did I know that Jökull himself would give a presentation to our Snorri group and that I’d have the chance to meet with him one-on-one for a chat and personal tour of Fossvogur Cemetery, where almost 200 WWII casualties are buried. Our group also visited the War and Peace Museum in Hvalfjörður, where I enjoyed chatting with the founder, Gaui Sigmundsson, and seeing all sorts of memorabilia he’s collected from the Allied occupation of Iceland. 

As part of the Snorri Plus trip, I also visited Hofsós again. This time, I viewed the museum through a different lens, but I was still unable to imagine how difficult the journey must have been. Leaving your homeland for a chance at a better life, but not knowing what may await you on the other side of the ocean. While still only scratching the surface of all there is to discover, Snorri Plus allowed me to delve deeper into Icelandic history and gain a greater appreciation for our culture.   

Both of my parents are now buried in Iceland. My grandfather was once asked, “What’s it like having an American as a son-in-law?” His response? “He is the best there is.” Needless to say, we all had a close relationship with my grandparents. It was Dad’s dying wish to be buried at the foot of their grave. Dad passed away in 2015, but it was not until 2017, when my Aunt Jóna also passed, that we took Dad's ashes to Iceland. Mom passed in 2020, two months before the pandemic lockdown, so we waited until 2022 to bury her ashes alongside Dad’s.   
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I have been working on a family book about my parents’ time in Iceland for a while. As my Icelandic cousin Birna once said to me, “You must tell the story. Þetta deyr með þér.” And she’s right; being the youngest in my family, if I don’t tell this story, it will die with me. ​

This article is featured in the upcoming publication The Snorri Saga: Moments and Memories from Over 25 Years of the Snorri Programs.​​