The older I get the more I seem to want to connect with my ethnic roots.  I have Scandinavian roots on my father’s side.  My Great Grandfather left Jonkoping area of southern Sweden to begin a new life in America.  It appears times were rough for farmers in Sweden at the time.  I know little of him or my Grandfather.  The stories I’ve heard seem to suggest they were very hard working men. 

My Grandfather died before I was born.  He was 55.  My father never talked about him nor did anyone else for that mater.  I asked two of my aunts what he was like.  Late in their life they both sent  me letters about him.  They both described him as a serious and often angry man who became softer and more sensitive when he began to suffer from stomach cancer toward the end of his life.  They said he turned to God in those last months. 

I’ve heard stories of the toughness of  Swedes that immigrated to the US.  I am assuming my father and his siblings were a product of that tradition.  We seemed to have lots of secrets in the family.  By that I mean stories of suffering and grief that I only discovered as an aunt would disclose a previously hidden story of the family.  Maybe it was as they realized they were the only, or one of the only, siblings left thus making it easier to reveal family history.  At least there would be less upset as they broke a family code of silence.  I’m only assuming this and that’s and important clarification.  Unfortunately I was afraid to ask.  Now that’s not based on an assumption but is my training of many years of “not talking about family issues, especially painful ones”.  It was an unspoken rule, but we got the message.