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67  3 “I Go to America” • Like so many others in the 1880s and 1890s when the immigrant stream to America was at its peak, I had long wished that I would be able to go but could never save enough of my small wages for a ticket. At that time it was hard for poor people in Sweden, and everyone who could possibly scrape together [enough money], or receive a ticket from anyone, went. America was the promised land, where everyone who was able to should go. . . . Sure, it wasn’t so much fun to leave those I had worked for who had always been good to me, although I had had to work hard. The last thing I did there [at my employer’s] was to set up a weave that was striped. I have often wondered if there were many wrong stripes in that weave, it was hard to keep my thoughts collected.1 I came to my home where I stayed a couple of months before I left [for America]. My parents had moved to an estate where my father worked. I had gone to school there, and [I] met many of my school friends and spent a pleasant time in my home. I left Sweden in the month of May and everything was in full bloom. It was so beautiful on the estate and in the area surrounding it. Nothing could be more beautiful than a Nordic spring. It was not fun to leave all that I loved: father, mother, siblings, friends, and land of my forefathers. I walked around in the forest to all the places I had visited as a child. I walked to my childhood home and saw the playhouse my father had helped me to build. An apple tree and a couple of gooseberry bushes that I had planted that had grown and bore fruit—all I had to see and bid farewell to. I became so sad that if I had stayed longer, I think I would have never been able to leave. Thus the day arrived when I tearfully said farewell to all that had been the joy of my childhood and youth.2 The Journey to America When the train rolled out from the station, and father, mother, and siblings were waving good-bye, I burst into unstoppable tears. But youthful courage 68  g   asserted itself. I wiped away my tears. I was fully determined to forget the old and begin anew. I would go first, clear the way, then bring my siblings here [to America], a promise I later fulfilled. My siblings came, and when my father died, my mother came, too. We stopped in Gothenburg for three days. I had never been in a Swedish city, since I had stayed for many years in Norway. A few other immigrants and I did sightseeing in Gothenburg. We traveled by trolley, which at that time was pulled by horses. We saw Haga Park, the Garden Association, and other places. I still remember an episode from the hotel. A girl who worked in Gothenburg came to the hotel to say good-bye to some acquaintances . She brought an accordion with her and somebody asked her to play and sing. She had a beautiful singing voice and sang Tegnér’s poem from Frithiof’s saga.3 “Hail to you, you high north. I’m not allowed to stay upon your soil. I am proud to count you as my ancestor. Now nurse of heroes, farewell, farewell.” She sang and played the entire song. When she was finished, there were not many dry eyes in the entire flock of emigrants. She was from Småland and the Smålanningar [people from Småland] felt proud of her. She was also good-looking. One Smålanning said, “Such girls they have in Småland!” I traveled alone without any companions that I knew. We went by an old ship called Romeo to Hull in England. We had a severe storm in the North Sea. When we had come out into the Skagerrak [the strait in the North Sea between Norway and Denmark], the waves started to break over the small ship, and some of us who had stayed on deck were told to go down belowdecks so that tarps could be spread over the hatch. It turned out to be a stormy night. We were all seasick and cried Ullrik [euphemism for vomiting] all night. Some idiot had opened one of...

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