| My Childhood's Fairyland |
Please refer to the gallery for images - coming soon. DEDICATION I dedicate this project with humble and sincere gratitude to my Mother Siv and my Wife Vivienne. To my Mother for sharing my upbringing with my Grandparents in an unselfish and understanding manner. Also in recognition of our many journeys in southern Sweden during the mid 1980's, when the idea for this project was perceived. To my Wife for her unfaltering love and support during our extensive travels, when her practical and down to earth advice is vital to keep me on the right track. During the execution of this project we often found ourselves lost in the deepest forests trying to discover some ancestral dwellings of the past. INTRODUCTION I was brought up, to a large extent, by my Grandparents in a comfortable and loving environment in Stockholm, the capital of Sweden. My Grandparents, who were cousins, originated from separate farming communities in southern Sweden but moved to Stockholm in 1917 to find a new life together in, for them, a new world. However, they never forgot their roots and the lands of their youth were always portrayed to me as being dreams of excitement and wilderness, where people lived in close knit societies with a dependency on each other for survival. The stories became an integrated part of my childhood giving me the fantasy of a mysterious and exotic paradise which could only belong to a Fairyland. I have in this photo book explored My Childhood's Fairyland to find out what was there and what is still left of people, time and memories today. My visits to southern Sweden took place in the summers of 2007 and 2008. KJELL RUDAEUS At the tender age of five I had little idea of what was going on around me. During the afternoon of 30th August 1949, I was squatting on the floor in the lounge of the summer house giving my faint attention to a picture book when suddenly my Uncle Rune appeared on the stage in a state of great excitement. In a loud voice filled with the pride of being a father for the first time he announced: It is a boy. My cousin Kjell had been born. The significance of the statement made, at the time, little impact on me. It was only as Kjell and I grew up in a close family environment that we became more like brothers than cousins. Kjell has, over the years, maintained a successful career as a pharmaceutical engineer at the principal hospital in Stockholm. His spare time, often accompanied by his son Michael, is spent at his summerhouse north of Stockholm. It was here in the summer of 2008 we went through a box of old photographs and letters of which many have been included in this photo book. ANDERS HJULSTROM. For a young lad to devour his not so exciting lunch is not easy especially when the world outside the kitchen window is booming with excitement. Anders and his two brothers tried to encourage me or rather distract me by making comical faces so I would finish off my carrot omelette and join them for a game of football on the lawn. Anders has always remained an integral part of my life and a firm connection to my “Childhood’s Fairyland” by sharing with me memories and experiences from his own upbringing. We were for a short time in the late 1960’s neighbours in Täby outside Stockholm and these days we enjoy from time to time a rewarding social life together with our wives Elizabeth and Vivienne. After a distinguished career in the Swedish army Anders has entered the world of antiquities with the history of ancient Rome as his speciality, giving lectures and arranging visits to Italy to endorse this pursuit. For this photo book Anders has passed on to me a precious insight into the life of his Father Olof “Olle” Hjulstrom who was my Grandmother’s beloved brother and the patriarch of the family. OLOF “OLLE” HJULSTROM. The fresh Swedish summer morning induced me into a wistful tranquillity. I made myself comfy on a seat in Anders and Elizabeth’s Garden of Eden observing at close hand a fawn munching the leaves of a newly planted apple tree. Well, I was far from focused! My intention had been to examine my Great Uncle Olle’s “Memoirs from an eventful life” and firm concentration was essential. Nonetheless once applied I was completely reassigned into the lands of my Childhood’s Fairyland. The memoirs open, like a Jeffrey Archer novel, with a vivid account of Uncle Olle’s authentic confinement: “I cried, like a pig being slaughtered, for my Mother’s milk”. Then a sequence of idyllic anecdotes ensue portraying country life on the small family farm “Bakom” in the hamlet of Gryt. Uncle Olle had an affectionate relationship with his Grandfather, Anders Gustaf Hjulstrom, (1834 – 1915) who coached his grandson in the art of carpentry. Destiny had, however, another vocation in line for Uncle Olle who proceeded with an academic career and became, over the years, a most respected teacher and headmaster within the Swedish educational establishment. MY GRANDPARENTS. A sturdily built boy about 12 years old is preparing a tiny garden for the midsummer festivities. His efforts are immaculate. Then a petite girl, a couple of years younger, tiptoes behind him to snatch his trowel and run off with it into the mellow Swedish summer landscape. A chase follows accompanied by the innocent laughter of delight from children playing in the land of bliss. In my imagination this is how I perceive my Grandparents’ initial friendship. They were first cousins and spent their childhood summers in the tiny hamlet of Sjogerstad in Västergötland. Play matured into love as the years passed by and in the autumn of 1917 they left the countryside to set up home in Stockholm. My essential memory of my Grandparents is that of an old devoted couple who lived for each other and their family. They addressed each other with the sincerity of everlasting love. Their marriage lasted 63 years until my Grandfather passed away in 1980 due to old age. My Grandmother, heartbroken, followed him three years later. SJOGERSTAD. Vivienne and I navigated, by car, through a landscape of pastel green pastures dotted with red and white houses, which give the Västergötland summer its visual trademark, in search of the hamlet of Sjogerstad, the birthplace of my Grandfather and the home for many of my “Fairyland” tales. Eventually, behind a rusty road sign, almost hidden in the brambles, we stumbled across this apparently wealthy community with Sörgården, the small farm where my Grandfather grew up, tucked away on the outskirts. Next to the church, with its flawlessly manicured flowerbeds, by coincidence, I bumped into an old couple Karl Erik and Märta Ericsson, brother and sister, who were able to recollect many memories and accounts of my Grandfather and his family in Sjogerstad. They referred to my Grandfather as “young Einar” in spite of his considerable age if alive today. Sörgården was once a small farm of 5–6 hectares with a few cattle but had some time ago been converted into a normal home by my Grandfather’s nephew, Ingemar, and his wife Marie-Louise. Marie-Louise still lives in the house but unfortunately was away at the time of my visit. EINAR VALENTINE RUDAEUS. One clear summer night, during my student days, I happened to return to the summerhouse by the last bus after spending the evening with some friends in Stockholm. Yes, I realised that there would be some troubles ahead as I had promised my Grandmother to be back much earlier. When I approached the house I could see my Grandfather sitting on his favourite bench in the garden.
My Grandfather was always there for me whatever transpired. At the sound of our voices my Grandmother flew out like a swallow to give us her instant forgiveness and a cup of coffee. My Grandfather carried, in his youth, the profound ambition to take over Sörgården and become a farmer in the steps of his forefathers. The fairytale stories, conveyed by him, centred on the mysteries of the land and the splendour of forming part of it by cultivating the soil and attending the animals. The anecdotes flew like the water in the narrow rivulet by the farm which was constantly crystal clear and where one could catch crayfish by hand and afterwards cook them with dill for a delicious supper. In the autumn the woods made available the grounds for the hunting of hare and pheasant which later were to be transformed into rich stews. His dreams were abundant with the basic pleasures of life and given to me on a plate of nostalgia. Reality broke my Grandfather’s dreams at an early stage of his life and after a brief spell in the cavalry at the army centre in the nearby town of Skövde he departed for a new career in Stockholm. There my Grandfather became an “on the beat” policeman and later progressed to Inspector with the principal duty of controlling the prostitution in the capital. During World War II he was recalled to the army as an officer in charge of logistics. His love for cultivating the land was fulfilled in the garden at the summer house at Ekerö just outside Stockholm. Here he nursed the fruit trees in the orchard with the tender care of a man destined to exist on the land. MY GRANDFATHER’S PARENTS. My Grandfather rarely talked about his parents and siblings except for his mother, who he loved dearly. I later ascertained that relationships within the family had been problematic with hardly any affection between the parents during many years of matrimony. By evaluating the images of the family I have gained a better awareness, with a touch of sadness, of circumstances surrounding the lives of the individuals involved. My Grandfather’s father Adolf “Adel” Johansson is portrayed in the photos as a handsome man of noble character. His eyes express determination and kindness. I wish I could have met him. My Great-grandmother Tilda Johansson was, according to witnesses from her time, an angry woman. The reasons for her frustration are unknown and are now buried under the soil in the simple family grave in Sjogerstad. My Grandfather’s sister Ebba died young. On the back of her photo is written: “Ebba suddenly became very ill and died when she was only 8 years old. The photograph was taken just before her funeral”. ANNA KATARINA ELISABET RUDAEUS. “Björn, you have now planted your last potato!!” This was my Grandmother’s temporary reaction concerning any misgivings regarding my behaviour. Her character was influenced by a traumatic temperament natured by a heart of gold. She often shared with me her childhood’s years of happiness and hardship for them to become a considerable part of my fairyland. This fairyland had its proper geography in the hamlet of Gryt in the county of Östergötland and it was here that Vivienne and I encountered the paths into her bygone days. My Grandmother was educated by her mother Anna Hjulstrom who also signed her leaving certificate from school dated 26 June 1911 which may be looked upon as a strange deed in our contemporary society. She continued her schooling at a college for domestic duties but married at the age of 20 to enter her life’s destiny as wife, mother and grandmother. The carefree side of her youth is reflected in a postcard of herself and my Grandfather to her brother Olle dated 13 July 1916: “What do you think of Eje (Einar) and me in love. I am well and having great fun”. VALDEMARSVIK. I examine with a sentiment of sorrow a letter written sometime in the early 1920’s by my Great-grandmother, Anna Hjulstrom, to my Grandmother living in Stockholm. The faded pages convey, in fine handwriting, her isolation and despair. The letter starts: “For you children in the middle of your life, time goes fast. For us at the end it is different”. It simply ends:” Write soon”! The letter was then taken, by hand, by my Great-grandfather Karl Hjulstrom who had to walk, on foot, more than 15km from Fredriksnäs to Valdemarsvik, the nearest village, to post it. At this stage I feel compelled to re-value in my mind “My Childhood’s fairyland” from a different perspective. Life was short and the concept of distance measured in time and space was extensive. Vivienne and I used Valdemarsvik as a base for our explorations. This village grew out of an unruly market more than 200 years ago but soon progressed into a small commercial port for trade within the Baltic Sea. Since the 1950’s the community has gradually turned into a centre for leisure boating and local tourism. We had our accommodation at Ri’s ‘Bed and Breakfast’ where Kjell and Ri helped us find our way in the locality. MY GRANDMOTHER’S PARENTS. Söderköping is a health spa, portraying an atmosphere of absolute wellbeing, situated by the well-known Göta Canal. Was it here sometime in the middle of the 1890’s that Karl Hjulström, a handsome bachelor with an imposing moustache, met a slender brunette from Västergötland, Anna Johansson, at the spa hotel “Söderköping’s brunn” under the chandeliers in the dining room? Anna had been educated as a primary school teacher but her lungs were weak and special treatment at a spa resort was necessary for her health. Affection grew swiftly into love and was ensued by a happy marriage which lasted until Anna’s premature death in 1927 from pneumonia. Karl’s wedding present to his wife was a fine ceramic bowl on a stand where my Grandmother, many years afterwards, used to store newspaper cuttings from family events. I entitled it “Pandora’s bowl” which is now in Ander’s tender care. Karl and Anna Hjulström now rest under the shadows of the dark green cypress trees in the churchyard in Gryt. On our visits Vivienne and I placed flowers at the grave in memory of the foremost protagonists of my “Childhood’s fairyland”. BAKOM IN ÅSVEDAL. At the outset of this project I knew that my family had its roots in the farm Åsvedal in the hamlet of Gryt. However, the farm Åsvedal has since been divided into many independent units over the years of which only one functions as a farm today. It was from Uncle Olle’s memoirs, where the name “Bakom” is mentioned, that Vivienne and I could trace, in the middle of the deep pine woods, the actual “farm”. Nowadays the former farm building with gardens is owned by Sven Andersson and used as a summer house. One November evening, when writing this article, I had a fascinating conversation, by phone, with Sven Andersson about Åsvedal from my home in Almuñecar. Sven, who was born in Åsvedal in 1930, gave me a comprehensive account of the history of the farm. In 1834 the middle branch of Åsvedal was divided into three separate smallholdings of which Bakom was one. Anders Gustaf Hjulström took it over in the early 1870’s and the family remained there until 1925. When Sven bought the farmstead in 1988, it was dilapidated and in need of urgent repair, a project now successfully completed. LILJEHOLMEN. A decision was made in 1891 that within the community of Gryt, in a number of remote areas, including the tiny island of Liljeholmen, there should be established permanent basic facilities for education during 8 months of the year. Liljeholmen is an isolated islet in the vast archipelago of Gryt where, at the time, pike and sardine fishing provided the prime source of income to the sparse population. Anna Hjulström was, in 1905, appointed to the position of teacher at Liljeholmen School which included the inhabitants of surrounding islands. Only two families, including my Great-grandparents, lived at Liljeholmen. For most of the time my Great-grandfather could only be with his family over week-ends and then he was obliged to row 5km to reach his home, a difficult and hazardous deed at any time, especially during the winter storms. Uncle Olle records in his memoirs: “The years at Liljeholmen were at times exceptionally demanding for me and my sister and we children carried a burdensome responsibility. During the nights Mother often had severe panic attacks and became under the illusion of dying. We eventually grew accustomed to the condition and managed to calm her”. In my “Childhood’s Fairyland” Liljeholmen became the epicentre for my Grandmother’s reminiscences. One tale above all others depicted the unwelcome call by a mysterious man from the sea who, with his knife, would end their lives in a violent and torturous mode of conduct. The only escape was to put out the oil-lamp and hide in silence under the table! As an adult, I feel inclined to question the authenticity of these anecdotes but for a young man they bestowed the excitement equivalent to a “James Bond” movie in our day. On the other hand, daily life was, without any misgivings, arduous by contemporary standards. On the back of a portrait of a middle aged couple my Grandmother has written: “Mr and Mrs Petterson from Morsholmen, proprietors of the only grocery shop in the archipelago”! Liljeholmen is nowadays owned by Henning Mankel, the famous author of detective novels, and his brother Gustav. Vivienne and I passed the island on our way to Harstena by taxi boat and got a glimpse of the red and white painted former school house which is not the building where Anna Hjulström was once coaching the local children to read and write but is built on the original site. FREDRIKSNÄS. Vivienne and I were enjoying an excellent dinner with Anders and Elizabeth. Strawberries were being served for dessert in a crystal bowl with a silver spoon. Fredriksnäs, which formed a small independent community in the early part of last century, consisted of a manor house with a saw-mill and a school. The school was set up in 1884 to provide fundamental schooling to mainly the saw-mill workers’ children. My Great-grandfather acquired work as foreman at the saw-mill and this contributed to a perfect solution for the family. Years of idyllic living ensued. The family members integrated into the small society and formed individual relationships and friendships in a manner which is only possible when the inhabitants depend on each other due to the absence of outside influences. One local individual who ruled as the oracle of wisdom was “Kalle i Lillmarstuga” or Charles in the little cottage. This man, who made and mended shoes, lived with his sister in a cottage by the roadside and became a very intricate part of life in the community. He was later often quoted by my Grandmother in connection with the most unrelated matters. One of my Great-grandmother’s letters tells how he received a silver snuff-box for his 80th birthday. His cottage has long since given way to an expansion of the road. Fredriksnäs manor house is located in the grounds of an ornamental garden surrounded by a touch of wilderness. The owner Arne Nilsson, who came to the area at the age of 7, helped me with valuable information concerning my Great-grandparents’ time at Fredriksnäs and the sociological and economical backdrop to their existence. Later Mari Lönnrot showed us round the old school house, where she lives with her family, and Vivienne and I were able to observe some of the furniture and ornaments from my “Childhood’s Fairyland” which was a moving experience. ANNA JOSEFINA HJULSTRÖM. My Great-grandmother’s memory was illuminated by a halo of respectability and admiration by the family during my years of growing up. She was certainly a forerunner to the modern working woman who has to juggle, with a perpetual smile, her domestic and professional life. From what I believe, my Grandmother had to perform many of the household chores at the school and together with her brother encourage her mother mentally during times of anguish. The years at Liljeholmen left a deep scar in her mind which, as a youngster, I had a difficulty in appreciating. Nevertheless, this project has given me the opportunity to perceive the circumstances in a different light. When Anna Hjulström died, unexpectedly, in the spring of 1927 at the age of 58 years she left behind a legacy of goodwill which is still revered in the community today. As the funeral Hurst passed through the pine woods from Fredriksnäs to Gryt the unpretentious men and women of the neighbourhood, with their heads bowed, paid respect to the schoolteacher, who had given them the talent to read and write as well as recognize some of the world’s miracles. THE ROAD TO KALKUGN. Vivienne and I walked along the bridle path to Kalkugn this serene evening in July 2008. The colour temperatures were falling in line with the sun giving the wooded landscape of pine trees and marshland an amber hue which enhanced our feeling of harmony. Kalkugn was the settlement, belonging to Fredriksnäs estate, where my Great-grandfather had been born in 1870 and his father had worked as a tenant farmer before moving to Bakom. We had been informed beforehand that any wooden building structures would have vanished and that we were unlikely to find anything but ruined foundations covered in bramble. However, I felt a desire to find the actual spot of my ancestry. After walking for about 30 minutes the light was rapidly turning into twilight, telling us to return to the car before the night invaded our landscape of tranquillity. We travelled back to Valdemarsvik where we enjoyed our evening meal in Ri’s garden surrounded by marigolds, lupines and sunflowers. The walk to Kalkugn had by now created in my mind a symbolic representation of the project about my Childhood’s fairyland. I had come so far but still with many queries unanswered and fresh perspectives to be explored. What had been seen through the eyes of a young boy assumed different perspectives from a grown up’s stand point. It is my modest aspiration that this photo book will provide an insight into the life of my relations who lived in an environment so distinct from our existence in the present day. Copyright: Björn Engström, November 2008.
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