Last
week offered what became a joyous, eternally sweet afternoon. It came about because I found the Swedish newspaper article I was looking for.
In
fits and starts since I humbly began, I resumed my effort to make my parents' trip to
Norrköping, Sweden come alive thirty-six years after it took flight.
Norrköping, Sweden come alive thirty-six years after it took flight.
.
The actual publication is the
Norrköping Times dated September 12, 1980. The long article is about my parents
trip to Norrköping, Sweden to research my father's paternal Swedish roots.
On that same trip to the continent,
my mother and father visited Kongsberg, Norway, as well. My mother stood on the
hill where her mother's family had lived with but a dirt floor under their
feet.
Because translating has been so
arduous for someone who doesn't speak Swedish, I have only a page or two
completed and certainly not honed to perfection.
Yet the sweetest part of this endeavor
is that I am a privileged daughter: my father is still living and loving at
close to 102 years of age.
I called my dad and read a paragraph from the newspaper I'd just translated. It was in a rough form. At first he wasn't sure what word he was hearing which was "Swedish." I had to explain several times what I was reading and that he was quoted in the article.
The words I read were:
“Finally I
found the house my grandfather lived in before he emigrated to America,” said
Swedish-American Willard Nelson. “Thanks to the Norrköping Times, on Wednesday
I heard Lars Gunnar Jonsson himself, tell the newspaper that the house has been
in his possession. They use it for summertime fun.”
Willard
was delighted!
"You
deserve a pat on the shoulder and another on the top of your head."
We both
laughed with glee--love flowing up the road as I often tell him.
We have a
birthday to celebrate on November 11, his lucky number. And I'm his lucky
daughter born on the 13th of April--cherishing the loving and
laughter now.
