Wednesday Wisdom

I grew up in Washington, Utah at the end of a dirt road 

with plenty of property to roam around with a creek running along the bottom of our property.  

Having five older brothers and being the only girl, 

naturally I was a tomboy.
When my chores were done I would gather a girlfriend or two and 

go to the creek to play in the water, 

build wigwams 

(Indian dwellings made of arrow willows)

and pretend we were Indians living by a stream.  

Sometimes we would take a frying pan, potatoes, onions, homemade bread, 

and a quart bottle of milk so we could build a fire and cook our dinner.
It was wonderful!  

I felt very safe and peaceful there. 

It was a time when crime was unheard of in our small country town. 

I would also walk along the creek, then up a hill to my Grandmother Sandberg’s house.  

Both of my father’s parents were born and raised in Sweden.  

My grandmother’s name was Bertha Kronvall Sandberg.   

She always had Swedish cookies for a treat that I thought were heavenly.  

She was a weaver of rugs and carpets and had a special room that had her loom in it

that my grandfather had made for her many years before.

 I would sit there a long time watching her weave her magic talent.  

She had been a seamstress and weaver in Sweden.  

She made her husband and son’s suits and shirts, and lovely dresses for her daughters.  

By this time my grandmother was becoming old and in a few years she had to put those things aside, 

just like I am doing now.  

My grandfather, Steen Sandberg, had died just before I was born, 

but his Black Smith shop was still there with most of his equipment in it.  

I loved to look around at all of those things.  

Grandmother was a wonderful person who had endured a lot in coming to this country.  

She wasn’t a very outgoing person, but still had a sense of humor.  

She had brought her accordion from Sweden, one of the very few treasures that she was allowed to bring. 

The accordion is a small-keyed wind instrument in which the wind is forced upon free metallic reeds by means of bellows,

which fold in and out.  

I got that description from the dictionary!  

When I would go to my grandmother’s house I could have stayed all day long listening 

and watching her play her beloved accordion.  

Playing all Swedish tunes of course!  

We were never taught the Swedish language, 

and for that I am very sorry.  

Maybe it was too painful for her to speak in her native language with all the memories, 

but when she did it was usually only in conversations with the eldest of their children 

who had come to this country with them.  

When my grandfather, Steen, was young his parents joined the LDS church.  

Their names were Swen Sandberg and Pernilla Nilsson Sandberg.  

They decided to immigrate to America but it was very expensive and

they could only afford to take three of their children with them.  

Their plan was for Steen and one of his sisters to stay behind in Sweden 

to work and earn money to be able to join the family as soon as possible.  

As was the custom of that class of people, 

my grandfather was apprenticed out to a carpenter and blacksmith, 

while his sister helped in kitchens.  

It was difficult for them to save enough money, 

so it was quite some time before this dream came true.  

In the meantime, my grandfather’s sister became very ill with the flu and died.  

Can you just feel the pain that my great grandparents, 

Swen and Pernilla, and my grandfather, Steen, must have suffered!

 And as this darling young girl lay gravely ill she must have surely needed and wanted her mother 

who was helpless and so far away in America. 

Steen met, fell in love, and married my grandmother, Bertha Kronvall.  

By the time they had saved enough money to make the journey to America, 

they had already had three children, which made the trip cost even more. 

Once they arrived in the United States they rode a train from New York City to Salt Lake City.  

They struggled to purchase a horse, mule, and a wagon to make the trek to Dixie,

as that is where Brigham Young had assigned them to go.  

Steen’s father, my great grandfather Swen, 

had already settled in the Southern Utah area and had built a small one room home for Steen and his little family.  

It had a basic fireplace and a dirt floor. 

Despite the lack of space and the crudeness of it, 

my grandmother said it looked like a palace to her after all that she had endured to get there!  

That is how the Sandberg’s got their start in Dixie. 

I am so thankful to my great grandparents Swen and Pernilla and to my grandparents Steen and Bertha for all the struggles and hardships they had to go through.  

They are part of who I am and I love and honor them for giving it their all.  

What they did now influences all their posterity. 

Love to all!

      Grandma Ora Bertha Sandberg Milne