in morning light
Swedish girl in winter
I often think of my Swedish Nanna and Poppa Ernie. They were my father’s parents. I can only imagine their younger lives; and what they gave up, and what they gained, when they came to Wisconsin all those decades ago. Poppa Ernie worked on the railroad. Nanna cooked and cleaned and held so much together. Sometimes I look at Swedish blogs and I feel right at home!
Image courtesy of antiqueclipart.com.
6 thoughts on “Memories Of Swedish Grandparents”
Hi, Ellen, I had been asked to write a piece for someone which entailed wandering through the memories of my Grandparents, and Great Grandparents. They also were my Father’s side of the family. I remember wandering out to the barn and finding my Grandfather sitting there just relaxing in the morning sunlight. Warm summer sunlight is most welcome to folks who live in Maine. We just sat there together for a lovely time of just enjoying each other’s company…not a word was spoken… just taking in the wonder of being there and also thinking about the generations that came before …what they endured so that I would have that moment in time. It’s a good memory. Thank you, Ellen.
Good morning, Merrill. I read your comment yesterday and wanted to reread again this morning. Thank you for sharing your good memory of this special time with your Grandfather.
I’ve heard it said that true friends are able to enjoy each other’s company in silence.
Ellen, this touched me, your mention of their loss and gain. I love the simplicity of your observations and statements.
Dear Maria, Thank you for your comment. If I have found some simplicity, that would be from the short poetry forms! Blessings, Ellen
Yes, the Swedish are a hearty and hard working lot! A good heritage!
Hi Margaret, Thank you. Yes, a good heritage. After my dad died, his brother, Carl, picked my mom up every Friday and drove her to Luther Manor for their volunteer work. When my mom lived at Luther Manor during her last illness, her work was honored and remembered. She knew where she was. Mom was German. I’ll meet her parents in Heaven, but feel I know them. Blessings, Ellen
Comments are closed.