I wonder....

I wonder how my grandmother Estrid met my grandfather Alvin. My aunt Gunvor Linnea or Gunnie as we call her, might know. She is the only one left out of the four children my grandmother had. My dad Bror William or Billy was the youngest, then Gunnie, Bertil Oscar or Bert and then Robert Alvin or Bobby. Uncle Bobby was named after his dad. I think I could write a book about all of them, my aunt, uncles and grandfather. But this story is about grandma Estrid. If I had to use one word to describe her it would be, Swedish. I would like to think she would pick this word as well. Growing up I learned that if you were Swedish, you were tough, you worked hard, you were honest, not given to excessive talk, you kept your business to yourself, you were honest and if you paid good money for something it sure needed to stand the test of time! I have memories of grandma returning something that wasn't working and getting her money back. Money held value, the money spent on an item had better have been worth the effort put into making that money! These Swedes were not a frivolous folk. However as I say that I remember her generosity. She always gave us (the grandkids) a little money before we left after visiting her (I know we were in her mind, worth the effort it took to make that money!) She always sent money in our birthday cards. When she passed there was a generous amount given to all her grandchildren, there were eight of us! Oh and the shopping trips we went on. I am not sure who started that tradution? Perhaps it was uncle Bert as he didn't have kids until later, or uncle Bobby who didn't have kids at all just wanting to spoil us a bit. Maybe it was grandma but if we went to the store with any or all of them they always let us pick out something. Maybe because when we visited they wanted to mark it as special, which time with grandma and our uncles was very special. I remember my dad making desks and bookcases for my cousins so perhaps this generosity was a Swedish thing or maybe it was an Olson thing. Whatever it was there certainly was some pride there. Pride in an ability to provide. Definitely not in a sort of, 'we are better' than you but more in a sense of competence, intelligence, stick with it until you get whatever done that needs doing and getting it done right. This pride in an ability to provide may have come more from grandma as there are stories how she scrubbed the dance hall floors of a barn across the street from her house. She was purchasing her home from the lady who owned this dance hall so she must have been working paying off the loan by cleaning the floors of this dance hall after the weekend dances. The water when you clean such a place is pretty cold and very hard on the hands. I can only imagine how hard she must have worked. That house was the one we visited her at so she must have paid it off. The land her house sits on is a pretty large lot. I think she did pretty well! As kids we used to go out in this very large yard facing Morrison Road in Lakewood, Colorado. Our uncles would swing us about or attempt to throw us in the air. We loved it but my grandmother wasn't very fond of it. She would get rather excited, her Swedish accent would become a bit thicker and the uncles got the idea that was enough. In that large lovely yard she had lilac bushes which were over ten feet high, protecting the house from the passerby's view. Petunias were planted routinely in the spring and Easter Lilly's could always be found in the house around Easter. I only have to look at an Easter Lilly to be brought back to her kitchen table. That or a sugar cube. Grandma would always have sugar cubes with her coffee. Plenty of cream, a few sugar cubes to suck on as she drank her coffee. Oh and her coffee was Folger's because I almost think that the lady on the Folger's commercial was Mrs. Olson. I started my coffee habit at around age twelve and it is my go to for self soothing. Granted the caffeine tends to perk one up. I do so enjoy it! Probably one of my saddest days was after my dad was going through radiation treatments and he stated that coffee just didn't taste very good to him. 'What?' I felt so bad for him but perhaps it didn't have the same medicinal benefits for him? I suppose if I didn't have the ability to enjoy coffee as much I would have to convince myself it would be okay but until then, skal! Grandma used to use the word skal, meaning 'cheers'. There are two little dots above the A and it is pronounced skoll, as best as I can tell never having spoken the Swedish language. My grandparents seemed to be of the belief that since they were in America they needed to speak English. Consequently I only know a few random words that my grandmother spoke in Swedish. My father never spoke Swedish and may have known a few more words than I but I do not know about this and he is not here to ask. More on these words she used to say another day.