I’m reading a book about 3 Swedish immigrants called Until We Reach Home
by Lynn Austin. It’s not the best book I’ve ever read (although, I hate to say that because I adore Lynn Austin’s Hidden Places
book!) but it’s intriguing to me because my family immigrated to the United States from Sweden.
My mom’s great-grandparents (paternal and maternal) came to America when they were young. So, my mom is 4th generation. I don’t know why, but that is just amazing to me! Mama says she remembers her grandparents speaking Swedish. But she was so little she didn’t realize it was another language–she just thought it was “grown up” talk!
The picture above is my mom’s grandparents in 1963. The children of immigrants. As I listen to this book about the Swedish immigrants and look at the faces of these 1st generation Americans, it makes me shiver at the bravery their families showed and the adventures they encountered. I wish I could read their story!
{I feel like some of my great-greats and other calculations might be off…I always get confused with those!}
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This is another strange one today. The picture has always intrigued me because I can’t quite figure out what the picture is of. Is it the girl? The horse? Or is that a zebra? Or is it a horse painted like a zebra? Is it a parade? Does the guy to the far right have a tripod?
The weirdest part is the back: Tiuahajana, Mexico, August 1952
Is that really a city in Mexico? And who was in Mexico? I don’t remember a story about my Grandparent’s going to Mexico the year after they were married. It’s a mystery.
My little brother turns 30 tomorrow. The first image that comes to my head when I think of him is a picture of him at about 10 or 12. I can’t believe 30 years ago he was born. 30 years ago is a long long long time ago.
Don’t think so? Just look a little closer at this picture taken on Jason’s first birthday. You may notice my Grandmother is wearing a wig. Also, that my Grandfather looks like…JR Ewing? Donald Trump? And if you look a little closer you’ll see white dining room chairs with gold crushed velvet seat cushions.
So, yeah, 30 years? That’s a looooooong time ago.
Which makes my brother really really old.
J, I’ve loved you for 30 years! Happy Birthday!
