Connecting

Hi again dear folks,

Göran's son #1 Oscar with family (The Oscarson's)

Time to tell you the story of the friendship between a concert pianist and my secretary. Back in 1949 the pianist married Alton, my granddaughter Amanda's son. They lived in Canada, but sometime in the 60's they went to Sweden to visit their relatives. My secretary's husband was one of them, only a young boy living in Hovdinge. A photo was taken of his uncle and the visitors and that photograph was found by my secretary 40 years later.

Trying to sort out who these people were was a bit tricky. The sister in the family remembered the place where the visitors came from as she had been given a book about British Colombia. After a while she also remembered their second name. With the help of her earlier research my secretary begun to understand how they were all connected, with me as their origin (with a little help from my wife and the Lord Almighty).

Searching the internet resulted in a notification on the Radville Guestbook in 2005 and three months later there was an e-mail adressed to Hovdinge. The missing lady was now in her nineties but capable of using new technology, most interested in knowing about the genealogy of her children. Even wanting to pay a visit again!





So in the Summer of 2007 she came and my descendants from both side of the Atlantic met to enjoy eachothers company at the farm of Hovdinge. E-mails continued to be written and friendship was developed. Therefore, thanks to the most helpful son of the hosts in California were my secretary was spending Christmas 2008, she was also able to pay the visit back to the Canadian lady, moving as a snowbird to Palm Desert in wintertime.




With love to you all,

Göran Danielsson.

Pickled Cucumber and Swedish Pancakes

Hi again,

Goran's daughter #3, Maria with family.



My secretary was much obliged to be welcome to share Christmas 2008 at the home of my youngest daughter Maria's descendants Jim and his Rosaly in Orange County. Jim's mother was Margaret and his grandmother's name was Ellen, the daughter of my youngest Maria. Alongside warm fellowship with the extended family she was offered pickled cucumber, swedish pancakes and other traditions prooving that the Swedish heritage was still treasured. A special treat was their homemade "polkagrisar", with ginger taste completetly irresistable if you ask me, heavenly delivered of course.


Disneyland on the very day before Christmas! All glory to the hosts managing such a treat! Rollercoasters, the Christmas Parade which was one of the kind, snow from above making all eyes go sparkling, at least until discovering it was foam. A good try though and the street sweeper told my folks that the Christmas tree was not for real either, a plastic one replacing the annual cost of £20 000 to import a proper tree from Canada.
Really, there is only one Magic Kingdom and it is up here where I belong! But nevertheless, it was a magnificent experience for my secretary and her kids and so was spending Christmas with hospitable relatives.


With love from your ancestor, Göran Danielsson, looking down on you, smiling. Wishing pickled cucumber would be heavenly delivered too!

Snuff box in Sacramento

Hi there family,

You might be wondering what in the world is happening up here! Well, let me tell you that nothing disturbing is going on in these heavenly places where I reside. But down on earth where you are living your short lives there was an earthquake in southern Sweden in December 2008, the first there in about fifty or a hundred years time, and in California there was snow stopping the air planes just about the same time. Just when my secretary was taking a leave to visit the kids of my sons and daughters to celebrate her 50th birthday! She was not to be stopped by force majeure, no way, and rather snow, than earthquakes! But she is busy, you know, always.

One of you readers actually got her going blogging again, for which I thank you.

Göran's son #1 Oscar with family (The Oscarson's)

Well, my secretary was to my great pleasure extremely well taken care of by my great grandkid Billie and her Pat living in the area of Sacramento. Billie's mum was Helen and her grandpa was my son Göran, calling himself John. My secretary has told me how remarkably patient her hosts were with her, her getting a flu coughing away endlessly. They even fed the homeless with the rest of a huge birthday cake. They allowed my secretary to look into private photo albums and above is a picture of my son Oscar in fur and his wife Lina. A proof of their worldly dignity I guess.

One of the pleasures of life in those days was having a pinch of snuff. I was not aware of my son having such a habit, myself preferring a smoking pipe. But my dear descendant in Vacaville has taken good care not only of my secretary but of the earthly goods of my son Oscar. Ladies and Gentlemen, my secretary proudly presents his snuff box:



Until next time, be blessed.

With much concern your ancestor Göran Danielsson.

A new homeland

Dear folks,

Göran's son #2 - August Göranson, later calling himself John Goranson (the Goranson's)

What a joy when Kristina Salomonsdotter arrived to White Rock in South Dakota with the four kids being 7, 5, 3 and 1 years old to meet her husband August again after having been parted for a year. He now called himself John and had rented a place for his family at the Frank Johnson farm.

Edna Goranson tells us in her story that sorrow soon was to follow this happy event. Kristina's sister Anna, who came along to help with the kids was not happy in her new country. Her homesickness made her decide that she was going to return. To save the money she cooked for a bachelor, a cousin of August. Sadly Anna suddenly took sick. She died of pneumonia, probably in the year of 1889 and a return ticket was no longer needed.

My brother-in-law, that is my wife's brother Jonas Persson went to White Rock too, in 1892. He was 77 years old emigrating. Probably it is his photograph you can see on the picture to the right. His daughter Stina was married to Gust Magnusson and they had left for America earlier, between 1876 and 1889. They lived just across the road from Frank Johnson's place. Jonas had remarried and his second wife was called Brita-Stina Andreasdotter. Together they had a daughter called Ingrid Augusta who was later to be married to Gonnar Goranson, born in 1882, the oldest son of August.

Edna Goranson tells us that Stina and Gust Magnusson where the folks that her dad August came to when arriving from Sweden. She is now reminding me that I should take a break not to make her remarkable story too downloaded with names and facts no person except genealogists wants to know. I'm sure she is right with that intuition ;-)

At Frank Johnson's farm my granddaughter Miriam was born in 1889. I showed you her picture earlier. In 1891 she had a little brother always called Willie, but given the name Joshua Wilhelm Goranson. He was born 20th May and baptized in the church of White Rock 8th June 1891. This is what he look like on the family photo, sent home to Sweden some years later when all their kids were born. Can it have been a gift for my wife, their mother, when Oscar returned to Sweden in that year of grace in 1903?

With love from my heaven,

your great grandfather Goran.

The very trip

Dear ones,

Göran's son #2 - August Göranson, later calling himself John Goranson (the Goranson's)

I am so pleased to be able to tell you what happened during the very trip across the ocean for August's wife Kristina and their four kids born to that date. As I told you before, August went first to see if he could make a home for his family. This was in 1888. Many relatives, friends and neighbours had gone on before to settle by White Rock in South Dakota. Having worked as a farmhand for a year August sent a ticket for his wife and four kids to come. My other son Oscar and his oldest son Göran, (changing his name to John in the new country) came along with them on this trip which is vividly described by my beloved great granddaughter Edna Goranson:

"Mama's sister Anna decided to come along to help her with the kids, also Dad's brother Uncle Oscar and his eldest son John, so they were eight in the party to cross the ocean. In those days they packed their own food to take along, I don't know if ships were not equipped with dining rooms as I have heard many old folks speak of their food baskets, they had to have enough for three weeks as that was the extent of their journey.

All went well on this trip until they came to New York, when they left the ship they passed customs in New Castlegar, then on into New York Central station, there they split them up, putting Mama and her kids on one train, while Uncle Oscar, Johan and Anna, were sent to another train standing by. When Uncle Oscar saw what was happening he took Mama's food basket which they had helped to carry, running over to Mama's train, tried to tell the conductor they belonged to her. He could not speak a word of English, but gesticulated wildly with his arms, finally made him understand they were hers. If Uncle hadn't been so stubborn or formidable with the conductor, Mama would have been without food, not able to speak a word of English, with four small children.

The reason for all this mix up was Mama's ticket had been purchased in White Rock, as Dad sent it to her, their tickets were purchased in Sweden. They had been routed on different railroads, nevertheless they both led to Chicago. The first person Mama saw when she changed trains in Chicago was her sister Anna. The joy and unspeakable relief of this unexpected turn of events can only be imagined in our minds.

From Chicago, Uncle Oscar and John, went to Chesterton, Indiana, while Mama and her sister continued on to White Rock, South Dakota. Uncle Oscar and John worked a couple of years at Chesterton, then sent for Aunty and the rest of the family to come...they stayed there a couple of years, then came on to White Rock, S.D: also" (E.G.).

Must add again how wonderfully pleased I am with the possibility to use this almost eyewitnessed story as my own memory has has deteriorated. It is a joy to be able to tell you these details and I thank everybody involved. The ship on the picture above is MS Gripsholm, Swedish American Line. On board in 1964 was another of my beloved grandkids, returning to the land of her origin for a visit. She wrote on the back of the card with the picture of the ship in Swedish, translated into the following:

"The storms are swishing, the waves are rolling, but my life is in the hands of God, so I fear nothing. I have not been sick yet. The ship is fine and everything is to my satisfaction. Hope to be in New York Thursday morning" (Hulda Johnson, 1964).

With much love from your granddad

Göran

"Sweden is a very religious country"

Hi,

As I can overlook almost two hundred years back from now, being born in 1818 and still able to follow the state of affairs from above in my heaven I know one thing for sure: The heading about Sweden being a very religious country was true when written by my great granddaughter Edna, looking back on the years when her father and mother lived in that country, up to 1889.

Today Sweden is not a very religious country. The Lutheran Church is still there but has lost its impact on people. Edna tells us in her story that her parents "were both good Christians, but it was really the Lutheran church of Sweden, that caused them to leave the homeland they loved so well" (E.G.).

"The clergy ruled over all the affairs of the people, each clergyman ruled over a certain district or locality and they ruled with a vengeance, downright dictatorship, so many folk left the Lutheran church and formed a church of their own, called the Mission Friends, very similar to the Christian Alliance church of Canada. They felt the Lutherans were not biblical Christian when they could inflict such harsh unreasonable treatment on the parishioners, but it didn't help to leave their church, for the State church still held the whip-hand over all business affairs.

Proosten would come out to a place he chose for his hearing, giving notice to every family in his district to appear at this home chosen by him, he requested a big dinner be served to all that came, no matter how humble or poverty stricken they may be. Proosten is a church dignitary just under the Bishop. At his chosen home he would hold what is called Husförhör. Hus means house and förhör means a questioning , rather more like a documentary of each family for his church books, names and ages of each family as well as their ancestry on both sides...

...so great numbers decided to leave the country so they could live in peace and worship God Almighty himself, instead of the State Church of Sweden." (E.G.)

Might go and ask the Almighty himself about His judgement, checking up on who is here and not!

With love to you all,

Göran.

Long gone

Hi,

Scared you, did I? You might have thought I was dead, never updating my story?! Well, I am, but that doesn't bother me very much. I have been more concerned about and being busy enjoying myself lately and I insist on you all to follow in my footsteps doing so, worthy of imitation ;-) We get a bit self-righteous up here in heaven you know. Hope you still understand the Swenglish my secretary is using! Wasn't able to find someone else as it requires enthusiasm up to a non-descriptable limit to get them to write details about times long gone. She's got that all right so this is what we get! Ok, let's get going:

Göran's son #2 - August Göranson, later calling himself John Goranson (the Goranson's)

We are still concentrating on what happened up to the year of 1903. I have already told you that August married Kristina Salomonsdotter in 1881. She was a girl from Hovdinge Lillegård, the farm where my secretary now lives (but, you know, they moved the houses when shifting the land in 1902 so we cannot say exactly where). They had three boys - Gunnar, Charly and Teophil who were 7, 5 and 3 years old and a little girl called Betty not much more than a year old when the family left Hovdinge in 1889. That place was "beautiful beyond compare" in their eyes and they left all that was "dear and near to their hearts" (E.G.).

Thanks to August's youngest daughter Edna Goranson who I will tell you about later, my memory is refreshened. She made sure that her memories where saved for the future by writing them down. Because of her we know a little more of what happened to this family and this story will be enriched. And thanks to one of Charlie's descendants we are promised to use her story Transplanted here on the blog. It's a wonderful document, too good not to be shared and we will use it with respect and love and gratitude. Quotation marks like those at the end of the last passage above refer to her exact words, but her story will be woven into all knowledge we have about the family. Bless her, for doing this. And bless those who have helped in the process.

"Sweden has beautiful trees, picturesque lakes and land contours with rivers meandering, both great and small where fishing was every boys delight. Every farm home had its stone hedge enclosure with row of beehives amidst coloured blossoms that grew in every dooryard, wherever there was a thatched heather roof, it grew on the housetops. There were rocks and rills everywhere, slender brooks gurgling here and there. The people on the land were considered poor people as far as wealth in cash was concerned, however they lived a high standard of living even so... What lonesome longings must have been theirs at times after their arrival in America, where at the time in the early century, only prairie with small crude buidlings existed. "(E.G.). All these things were told to their children by the parents August and Kristina and other Swedish immigrants.

"They raised their own beef and pork, lamb and mutton, honey from their bees, eggs, butter and cheese, any surplus was taken to the market place, in Ljungby, a place out in the open with stalls marked off where they displayed their goods for sale. Market day was usually held on Saturday where came the farmers and people from far and near for miles around to sell or buy livestock, meats, fruit, eggs, butter, cheese, as well as woven articles of either wool or linen to be turned into cash for necessities.

To this market place in Ljungby came the parents of the world famous soprano singer Christina Nelson, as they were farmers living close by, there one day Dad, saw and heard her sing as she was skipping about like children do. He said her voice at that tender age was beautiful, so unusual, people stopped all around to listen to her. There a wealthy citizen of the city heard her, was so impressed by her marvellous voice, he arranged with her parents to receive training of that priceless gift of voice she possessed. Several years later she was acclaimed one of the world's greatest sopranos..."(E.G.).

In the museum at the old square of Ljungby you can find the piano and other possesions of Christina Nilsson. A statue of her is erected in the town. Read about her here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christina_Nilsson

All for now, love
Göran Danielsson.