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| My dad's passport |
When my dad was sixteen, he got on a boat in Sweden bound for America. He made the journey alone. The year was 1948.
A few years ago, I crafted a fictional story, based on his actual trip to America, to enter into a short story contest. I didn't win a prize, but I sure enjoyed musing about what kinds of things my dad could have been thinking as he left his family in Sweden, bound for a new land.
As I think about his desire to immigrate to America all by himself, I have simultaneous thoughts of admiration and shock. As a mom to young adults myself, I am shocked that his mother would let him go! I admire his courage and adventurous spirit.
Several years prior to his immigration, his Uncle Carl had immigrated to Nebraska farm country. My dad was en route to help his uncle on the farm . Below, you will find my fictional story based on true events. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
The Swede
Karl’s
little red house in the forest was the only home he had ever known. Now he was
leaving it. He was preparing in his heart to say good bye. Not many words were
spoken on the way to the dock. Much was left unspoken.
After
hugging little brother Bertil until his arms ached, he squeezed sisters Marta
and Inga. Mama and Papa were next. Mama cradled his face in her hands and
looked deeply into his soft gray eyes. She could only whisper.
“Karl, I know
you will be fine. Joseph is eagerly awaiting your arrival and has good work
there for you. We love you. Please don’t forget to write your Mama and Papa.”
That was all she could say before emotion overtook her. Karl understood. He
couldn’t talk much either. He struggled to hold back tears, just as his Papa
did. A man should keep his emotions in check.
It was
April 19, 1948. The Gothenberg loomed like an ominous gray mountain in the cool
morning mist. Karl felt his heart flutter like a hummingbird as he approached
the crisply uniformed purser hailing “All aboard!” to those with third class
tickets. He shuffled along with throngs
of swarming passengers. Karl turned to wave good bye one last time. Yes, they
were still there. Like statues, except each had an arm waving furiously. Karl
couldn’t tell if his mama and sisters were still crying. Papa’s face was
solemn, but peaceful. Karl knew his papa believed in him. One hot tear escaped
Karl’s eye and ran down his cheek. Of course he would miss them! His little
family. His little red home in the forest.
Just
as Karl turned his gaze from his family, the ship’s thunderous horn blew and
Karl thought he would jump right out of his skin. He boarded the ship with his
small weathered suitcase in hand and his tweed cap firmly pressed on his wavy
blond hair. He would be fine. Those were Mama’s parting words.
His
third class cabin was plain. The sheets on his bunk were slightly worn, but
neat and clean. A small sink stood alone in the corner, but there was room for
nothing else. Not even a window, Karl thought. He gently set down his brown
duffle and eased himself carefully onto the lower berth, his hand running over
the wool blanket. He let himself feel
the sorrow of leaving his family behind, but was at the same time full of
excitement. Come to think of it, he was hungry! The lunch Mama packed him could
wait until later. It was coffee time, almost a religion in Sweden and he wanted
to find the nearest place to get some. The key turned easily to lock the door
of his cabin and he took off down the hallway.
The
coffee room was already brimming with mostly Swedish travelers. Steaming cups
of strong, black liquid littered all the table tops, with a Swede perched in
front of each cup. Nervously, Karl searched the room for an empty chair. There
was none. His hungry stomach and the little bit of Kronor in his pocket kept
him standing there, looking.
Suddenly, a young man behind a wooden counter was
smiling and waving him over, “Hey….Boy…over here!”
The next thing he knew, Karl
was sitting in the last open spot at the counter with the telltale cup of
coffee and a half sandwich.
“Name’s Rudolf Andersson, you can call me Rudy. What’s yours?”
“Karl
Aberg”, he said above the chatter of other coffee drinking Swedes.
“Where
ya headed…..I mean after ya get to New York? Are ya travlin’ alone?”
Karl
spoke hesitantly, “I have an uncle in Nebraska. I’m taking the train there to
stay with him. Yah, I’m travlin’ alone.”
“Yah?
What will ya do there?”
“My
uncle has a farm. I will help my uncle with work there.” said Karl
timidly.
“Ah…how
old are ya? Ya don’t seem old enough to be travlin’ alone.”
“Sixteen
and one half. I just made the cut off for travlin' alone.“
“Twenty
one here. I took this job on the Gothenberg to earn my way to America. Been
workin’ ‘bout four months. A couple more and I’ll be on my way to the land of
milk ‘n honey!”
Karl
realized that his hands had been gripping his coffee cup as if it were his life
preserver. He loosened his grip and took a bite of his sandwich as he thought
about how kind Rudy was, and how these days at sea might not be so lonely after
all.
“Ahh,
yah. Where ya from, I mean what part of Sweden?”
“Ljungby,
in south central Sweden. You?”
“Uppsala,
near Stockholm.” Rudy spoke briskly with
a thoughtful and inquisitive look on his face. “You happen to know Goran
Nuvall? He's from around Ljungby and worked on my cousin's tree farm.”
Karl
warmed to the young Swede's friendliness and his eyes brightened as if someone
lit a match behind them. “Yes! My oldest sister went to school with him, but I
haven't seen him in some time!”
Rudy shook his head in disbelief and amazement
and refilled coffee for a Swede at the counter. The conversation between these
two young men continued on for days like they had been old friends. Karl was indeed grateful for someone to talk
to on this long voyage. Someone who reminded him of home.
The
next ten days on the Gothenberg seemed to go by quickly, especially with Rudy's
companionship. Fear, anticipation and relief swirled around inside of Karl as
the boat neared its destination. He certainly was not sad to leave it! The
suffocating cabin, crowds of people, and nausea…others’ and his own had almost
gotten the best of him.
Karl
had his small brown bag in hand and his tweed hat was again pressed firmly on
his head. He was ready. His hand went to his breast pocket to feel for his
passport. It was there. As he fell in line with the other passengers ready to
disembark, he could see the captain and the first mate on deck in their stark
white jackets dismissing passengers. Another officer stood beside them, with a
starched blue uniform. Karl wondered who he might be.
“Son,
may I see your passport?”
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| My dad's passport stamp |
Karl was not sure what he said, and a wave of fear
washed over him. The serious faced officer repeated himself.
“Son, may I see
your passport?”.
By his hand gestures, Karl finally understood what the man
meant and took his passport out of his pocket and handed it over. The officer
asked Karl a few more questions, but of course, Karl did not understand. That
is all he could say in English, “I do not understand.”
The
line was backed up behind Karl and he was getting more anxious. He finally
understood that the officials were not going to allow him off the ship because
he did not know English. His heart sank as if to the bottom of the harbor. Had
he come all this way….all the way from Sweden, only to be sent back home? More
waves of panic and nausea swept over him as he stood there with his shoulders
slumped and his face to the ground.
“Hey….over
here!” It was Rudy! “Is there a problem here?”, he spoke in English to the
official. The blue uniformed man
repeated himself.
“I’ll vouch for him!” cried Rudy. “I’ll make sure he gets to
where he’s goin’.”
After asking Rudy to confirm his identity, the official got
an incredulous look on his face and said gruffly, “All right. Make sure he gets
to the Port Terminal and through Immigrant Registration. It’s a matter of this
boy’s safety on our shores.”
Rudy looked at Karl with a knowing grin and
translated the news to him. Karl smiled back, and without reservation walloped
Rudy with a hug so hard, Rudy thought he would suffocate.
“Tack so mycket!”,
cried Karl with relief and gratitude. Rudy spoke with a calm brotherly voice,
“You'll be fine.” He would be okay, Karl thought with an audible sigh. Those
were mama’s parting words.
