Memoir

My Grandpa, who emigrated to the United States of America from Sweden in 1923 at the age of 21, always wanted to remain connected to his homeland. His direct family members there had passed away, and he ventured across the Atlantic to be near his only remaining brother, 17 years his senior, who had emigrated many years prior. Becoming an American citizen was equally important to Grandpa, but one of the varied ways he preserved his heritage was by documenting his memories in a personal memoir. In the text, he presents a wonderful narrative of his boyhood and troubling family life, his emigration experience, method for integrating as quickly as possible into his new country, and how he met Grandma. Like many who have good discipline and good intentions, Grandpa’s memoir-writing effort was unfortunately truncated; he did not pursue the effort after the birth of his first son in 1935 (five years prior to the birth of my father). I am not complaining. It was enough.

Memory

It is unfair to say that Grandpa’s memory was a bit cloudy, but unfortunately, he got his paternal grandfather’s name wrong in the family bible and his memoir writings did nothing to improve on that necessary piece of information. What was captured for history in the family’s available documentation was a concatenation of his paternal grandfather’s first name and his maternal grandmother’s maiden name. Alongside our generation’s lack of knowing the Swedish language to delve into archives, not having proper names to chase in a patronymic appellation system was a significant blocker in our attempts at genealogy. I am not complaining. It was enough.

Memorial

Grandpa and Grandma traveled to Sweden three times – in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. Grandpa did not disappoint the family documentation. That was an era of ubiquitous photography and scrapbooking. His scrapbooks are thorough travel diaries, complete with remembrances, names, facts, and figures. On each trip, Grandpa was sure to memorialize his visits to his parents’ gravesite. In Sweden, older graves that are unattended by family members will eventually revert to church purview and are subject to re-use. Grandpa’s photos and captions ensured the location of this gravesite was identifiable, even though by 2025 it had returned to church oversight. It has been reclaimed by the family and a caretaking fund has been setup, so I am not complaining. It was enough.

Memorization

I recently spent over a week in Sweden with a retired couple who have reinvented themselves as car on the road, nights in hotels, knock on random doors, genealogists working on behalf of those of us who long to trace our lineage in their country and are willing to pay for it and do the boots on the ground effort alongside them. With Grandpa’s writings and documentation, this “genealogy nerd” duo was able to trace his paternal lineage several generations, and his maternal lineage to the 1660s. I believe if given more money and time, they would certainly have been able to go back even further. We visited fifteen churches and multiple family-related homesteads during my trip. I saw relevant baptismal fonts, confirmation sites, marriage, and burial locations. I held two bridal crowns that potentially sat atop the heads of my ancestral grandmothers on their wedding days. I heard bells tolling in a church where at least one of my ancestral grandfathers was a klockare (aka sexton / bellringer). I stood on ground directly related to Grandpa’s stories. After my return, during a trip review night with the family, I showed a picture of the three crowns of Sweden atop the city hall in Stockholm, and Dad quizzed me on the meaning of the three crowns. I did not have a ready answer, but he did not complain. I guess, it was enough.