FINDING CLUES to the PAST

GENEALOGY    Part IV

Some men and women risked it all for the romance of a high-seas adventure. Steamship companies circulated pamphlets promising riches in the land where "streets were paved with gold." It was a heady time at the beginning of the nineteenth century, fueled by poverty and pestilence in the old country and promises of plenty in a place seen by few.

The older generation worried, not only for the safety of their children who were so far away from loved ones but for the future of the homestead their children left behind. Even if they asked themselves the obvious questions of Who would tend the fields and feed the flocks? or How would the parent's survive in their dotage? they wanted what was best for their children and were willing to sacrifice to make it happen.

There are two stories that did not make the pages of "Begotten With Love," only because they were found after the book was published. The first story was one conveyed to me by a cousin shortly before her death. She had been looking through a box of old papers stored in her attic when she happened upon this gem (circa 1894):

• Archie was determined to go to America. He arrived on her shores with a handwritten note attached to the lapel of his coat asking anyone to please help him get to the home of his son in Alabama. Archie, who had just turned 80 years old, had traveled thousands of miles by himself even though he had never learned to read. 

The other story came from Sweden.




Anna loved all eight of her children. They were the joy of her world. It was difficult to say good-bye not once but five times as all but three sought their fame and fortune far from home. She was a woman of deep faith and prayed for the best. I was privileged to read a poem my cousin found tucked in the pages of our great grandmother's recipe book. This poem, published in the latter part of the 19th century in Sweden conveyed the hearts of many parents of that era who were left behind.

MEMORIES

For the Swedish American

By:

Johan Erik Rosenberg

Along the slopes of the mountain

Grow some juniper bushes

And an oak with beautiful leaves.

Otherwise, the greenery is sparse,

Only a few old stumps from the ancestral trees remain.

From the midst of the rock's many crevices

Sounds the awful screech of an owl

In the dark of an October night,

And in the narrow valley below,

The old bridge sighs as the evening winds

Whistle through a carpet of leaves.

Seldom has a foot walked these forgotten stables from long time gone,

Where all the district's youth gathered for fun and entertainment,

On a peaceful summer evening.

Out here, I often walk, slowly.

I tire quickly for I am old.

Yet, I come here in solitude to

Recall the past. Happy moments that

Brought us all together

And I enjoy what no one else remembers.

* * * * *

I hope you blow away the dust on an attic treasure and find notes like these that inspire you to write . . . not just dates about the characters but about their life's adventures. Their legacy is your heritage. Enjoy!

Jo Ann V. Glim is a 40 year veteran of  freelance writing and author of the eBook "Begotten With Love." To learn more:

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