May 25, 2008
From whence we come
I spent our first day in Göteborg getting to know the city a little bit, while Monika headed out on her own adventure. Without further ado, and in her own words, Monika's story:
For some years, I have enjoyed collecting stories about my family’s ancestors. Though I had many names, dates and stories, this information created more questions than answers. I was urged to contact Cousin Greta, who, at the age of 92, began to write to me in a fine, steady hand – volumes! Every letter was filled with such warmth and enthusiasm. I dreamed of meeting this lively and lovely woman…
Dreams do come true, sometimes just in time. My hope was to have time with Greta alone; to be able to be in the moment, even as we spoke about the past. It was so natural and comfortable to spend happy hours together in her apartment, take a tour of the facilities in her assisted living complex, and accompany her on a small shopping trip. She is the cherished matriarch of a large family, an incredibly positive woman with no complaints. Best of all, she is the greatest storyteller of all!
Until recently, I had no idea that Greta’s daughter-in-law, Nina, had an addictive hobby that would transform our family. As it turns out, she is a most thorough, detail-oriented genealogist! When Nina learned that we were coming to Sweden, she worked steadily for three weeks, locating, deciphering and interpreting church records dating back to the early 1700’s. Following that thread, she was able to trace the lives of my ancestors, up until the time that my great-grandfather and grandmother immigrated to the United States. Not only did she pinpoint the place they lived, while still in Sweden, but even details such as their date of departure and the names of the ships that carried them to their new land. When presented with this thick packet of carefully prepared documents, I was stunned and grateful beyond belief by the generosity of her time and effort. Thank you, Nina!
To top it all off, Greta’s son Per planned a drive to visit the places where our branch of the family had its ancestral roots. Greta, Per, Nina, myself and two patient German Sheppards made the 3-hour trek, on the most lovely of summer days, to Värmskog. Cousin Per had arranged for us to meet the present priest of the Värmskog Church, built in 1782, where my great grandparents were confirmed. It was a moving experience, to say the least.
The priest, Thomas Andersson, was unlike any I have ever met. He beamed and shone; so animated, engaging and entirely enthusiastic about his calling. His worldview seemed so very expansive, his heart so very open. When he sang a Benedictine chant in the acoustically perfect sanctuary, hairs rose on my arms. He told wonderful stories, weaving biblical tales with the church history and his experience of the parish, all mixed with songs of Joni Mitchell and Simon and Garfunkel, played on his guitar. At parting, he happily pointed to the odometer on his old Volvo. “I’ve driven to the moon!” he said. “Now I hope to make it back to earth!
Who knew that when we continued down the narrow country road, we would find the Karsbol schoolhouse, still intact, where our ancestors studied? Cousin Per went door to door, hoping the neighbors could tell us exactly where the family house once stood; unfortunately, no one was home in the little town. When we compared old photographs with the landscape, however, we found the place where my great grandparents, as well as their forefathers and mothers, had walked for centuries before. Standing there, I had a feeling unlike any other I have experienced; I was connected to my past in a way I had not thought possible.
I will never forget this day, or the generosity of spirit shown by my relatives. On the way home, I held the warm, wise hands of Cousin Greta and watched her face closely. She was telling the story of the war years, when they raised and slaughtered white rabbits, preserving the meat in jars. Their pelts became a coat for young Per, seen here in a photo from 1952 with Greta, her mother and me. When John and I returned to Bohus, Per and I posed on the exact spot, where Greta’s sister Marita and her husband Sven-Åke now live. They prepared a lavish meal and sang for us a Swedish drinking song that we must learn before the summer solstice.
We ate, drank and enjoyed a wonderful afternoon. Cheers!
