Exciting News!

 
My first book has launched!
By-Gosh Johnson and the Long Walk: 
The Story of John A Johnson.

  https://a.co/d/0djCJEQw  

In 1868, Johan’s dreams of building a life on the family farm in Byarum, Sweden, have slipped beyond his reach. With little future ahead except conscription or a hard life as a hired farmhand, he faces an unbearable choice: remain in the only home he has ever known or risk everything for the promise of America.

Leaving behind the familiar countryside of rural Sweden, Johan begins a journey marked by optimism, heartbreak, hope, and unexpected joy. Thousands of miles from home, he must navigate the hardships of settling in a new land alone.

A sweeping story of courage, family, and the immigrant dream, this novel reminds us that sometimes the life we find is greater than the one we imagined.

 

Travel Tuesday - Sweden Trip

Last post, I wrote about a Swedish cousin, Gunnel, who found me on Ancestry and made all of my genealogy research on that branch of the family much more real! 

Once I knew I had relatives in Sweden, I had a great desire to meet them. Gunnel had sent me pictures of the part of our family who had stayed in Sweden through email. My sister, Kris, and I began to plan a trip to Sweden that fall and it seemed to be the perfect retirement celebration for me as I retired this spring from 35 years of teaching. I emailed my cousin, Gunnel, with our plans and learned that she was very excited to meet us also. 

This was the first visit to Sweden for Kris and I and we immediately felt as if we were home. We grew up in a very Swedish-American culture so actually being in Sweden validated so much of our lives and childhoods in ways nothing else could. On our way to Jönköping, we visited the western and southern cities of Gothenburg, Ängelholm (to meet Susann, an ebay / Facebook friend) and Malmö / Copenhagen. Then we were on to Jönköping and our family!

Altogether, we met 14 relatives! Our cousins welcomed us with open arms and we immediately felt like family!  We stayed with Gunnel for a few days and celebrated Midsommar with them in Jönköping and later, in Dalarna. 

One cousin's husband, who is also a genealogist, presented me with a large notebook containing his work on the history of our family. Besides the family tree information, it's full of pictures of family and beautiful color pictures of the inside of some of the homes belonging to them over the years! 

We all traveled south of Jönköping to the towns of Vaggeryd and Byarum. We visited Plätt Farm where my great grandpa John August Johnson and his younger brother, Gunnel's grandpa Anders, were born and raised. We ate traditional meals and talked over fika at an old house at Byarums hembygdsgård.

I was overjoyed and very touched with the warm welcome and acceptance! 

We just got home a few days ago and the last month still feels like a dream! I would never have believed this could happen to us, even two years ago!

Take-Away: Never give up on the missing branches in your family tree and always try to keep a public tree open! Someone might be looking for YOU!

Amanuensis Monday - A Special Letter

Good morning dear Shari
Hope you are well and
enjoying school a lot.
Is your teacher nice 
and kind? Do you
sing songs in the morning
and write on the black
board to we use to.
Is there lots of visitors 
come to your school.
One time a man lost
his pig. and he came 
our school. just stuck
his head in the door and said, "did any of you see a runt pig." it was funny.
Lots of Love,
            Great Ma D.





Pictured to the right is Jessie Christene Field Dibbens (1874-1964). I always called her Grape Grandma. I never could figure out why she had such a different name!

Simeon's Cave; Stepping Out in Faith - Past and Present Part 1 (The Whole Story in 5 Parts)

Several years ago, on a Sunday afternoon in Wichita, Kansas, I sat in the living room of my in-laws, Harry and Helen Edwards. I read from an old family history book that my sister-in-law had handed me. An autobiography that filled a chapter of the book was written by Helen’s great grandfather, Rev. Simeon Swartz and his children. Because of my interest in genealogy, I was immediately engrossed in Simeon’s story. As I read, I learned that Helen’s ancestors had their strength, courage and faith tested and proven much like the early members of my family, and the same as people sometimes are today.
~~~

The story that Simeon told was about a time soon after he and his wife, Sarah, brought their family from Woodford County, Illinois to Kansas in 1874. Simeon was a minister and he and Sarah trusted God to guide and protect them in their homesteading venture as they were headed into an area that had a reputation for being dangerous. Many times they prayed and relied on God; asking Him to guide their journey and give them direction in their lives. A few months after settling in Rice County, they had already experienced the ups and downs of life on the prairie. A baby had been born to them that summer and had died nine days later. A good corn crop had disappeared in three days, eaten by a huge cloud of grasshoppers. In the weeks that followed these heart-breaking, life-threatening, hunger-producing disasters, Simeon focused on God, scripture and prayer. After an entire week of seeking God, a mysterious thought came and settled in his mind. He felt that God was telling him to dig a cave on their land. The idea wouldn’t go away but instead grew stronger. He and his family dug the ten by twenty foot cave, amid questions from neighbors and friends. “What do you expect to do with a cave?” they asked. The only reply Simeon had for them was, “I might need it sometime.” The act of obeying what they believed God had asked of them relieved the feeling of despair and renewed their faith and courage to face what they thought might be a bleak future.

... to be continued...

Simeon’s story was taken from events recorded in

Simeon Swartz Family History: 1727 Ancestors to 1958 Descendents by Orvo Swartz

Their eyes were my eyes - No Tombstone Tuesday - Part 2

The woman on the left is my 2nd Great Grandmother, Anna Ruth Jarman Dibbens. She was born very close to the place this picture was taken in June of 1843 in Newchurch, Ryde, Isle of Wight, England, and died shortly after this picture was taken in Southsea, England, on December 20, 1919. It's the journey in between those two dates that is the real story.
Anna married Arthur R Dibbens in November, 1865 in the island and they started their family with the first five children; three of whom survived and moved with them to America in 1873 where they added three more children to their family. By 1876 they were living in Wichita, and finally settled near Kingman, Kansas by 1900. They found the land they had been looking for along the banks of the Ninnescah River. The family moved into a sodhouse on that land with six children and survived at least one river rising while in the sod house, but it was worth it as they watched their kit home coming toward them on wagons. It had traveled to them by train from halfway across the country; a mail-order house that is still standing over 100 years later. (I hear there is a picture of the kit being delivered somewhere at a local museum but I have yet to find it.) I began this blog back in 2009 with some pictures and stories about that house, which is still a home. (pictures of the home are in my blogs from 2009.)

Anna and Arthur raised their children in the kit home, making several trips back to England. The last trip to England to visit family was in 1919. The picture above was taken during that trip. Anna died, just across the bit of ocean that separates the island with the mainland, in Southsea and was buried in Highland Road Cemetery in Southsea: Plot M, Row 2, Grave 23. Her stone is no longer there. The acid from the bombings that happened over the area during WWII destroyed many of the stones in that cemetery according to the historian who works there. Her stone may be gone but her legacy lives on and... her eyes are my eyes.

Here is the passport application for their last trip to Isle of Wight and Southsea, England.

Art's Art

On June 19th, Emily, Brittany and I traveled to Lucas, Kansas to visit the Grassroots Art Center. We were there to attend the open house for a new exhibit on display in their museum. A display of my Grandpa Johnson's metal replica's of buildings he made in his later years. Arthur Theodore Johnson (Art) died back in 1986 but you can find his buildings all over Kansas.

Grandpa, the artist, fit right in with the others that have their work displayed in this gallery. Most of them were self taught artists who developed a passion for a specific medium and began creating the majority of their work after they retired. Grandpa fits this description but his creative work began many years before he retired.

For as long as I can remember, Grandpa has loved creating things. He was a farmer with a Swedish accent and a lot of ideas rolling around in his head. I recently learned from my dad that Grandpa would begin work before sunrise on their farm outside McPherson and, many times, when his sons had finished their chores and were ready for farm work, he would find a reason to go to his metal shop or wherever he was working on his latest project, and work for a while there. He couldn't resist the call to create. It was important enough to take up valuable daylight. I understand this and so, have developed an even stronger connection with him.

Besides farming, Grandpa was an inventor. I learned much later that at least one of his inventions, a handheld machine that would pick up grain from the ground and deposit it in a truck, was produced and marketed. Grandma and Grandpa's old crank telephone hangs on my wall. The insides have been gone a long time. I wonder what project they ended up in. He definitely was ahead of the times with the whole reuse recyle, reduce idea. That's all pretty cool but not what I remember him for.

When I was young, I was never wanting for original play equipment. My swing set was the tallest any of my friends had ever seen. The only ones as tall were on the school playground and Riverside Park. It was made entirely out of recycled parts from farm machinery carefully fitted and welded together to form a strong frame. The swings had long chains that made me feel like my feet could touch the clouds and we sat on tractor seats to ride the glider. The merry-go-round in my backyard spun over a huge tractor tire.

That was all really neat but not even close to the coolest thing he made us. When we went to the farm, we were sure to find something new to entertain us.

One of our favorites was a gas powered car. The body was metal, of course, and it had a seat and steering wheel. This is me in one of his earliest cars. It was a lot of fun to drive around the farmyard. At least once a year we would arrive to find that our car had been updated. Sometimes it had two doors and other times four. I remember when it had been transformed into a four seater, painted green and sporting a hood ornament. Then more of us cousins and siblings could ride.

I think I believed all grandpas made things like this for their grandchildren. It was later when I realized that this had been a very special "grandchildhood." Not every grandpa made cars or rowing machines with a (you guessed it!) tractor seat. The homemade camper, complete with bunks was my favorite place to sleep when I spent time there during the summer. Didn't every grandpa make one of these? My sisters, cousins and I were allowed to use the equipment in his metal shop. We learned to use his riveter to make swords out of scrap metal. The only rule was to leave everything the way we found it. Now that was trust!

Well, most grandpas do finally retire and their interests adjust to a new lifestyle. That is when grandpa started crafting buildings out of metal. He worked from memory and pictures creating two or three hundred little metal buildings in his basement workshop in a little house in McPherson. People would bring him pictures of the sides of their favorite building or house and he would recreate it on a smaller scale. At Christmas all of the kids might open a present and find a very small church or windmill. That workshop was always open to us also.

I am fortunate to have acquired several of his buildings over the years. They are some of my favorite things and have a special place on my mantel and in my heart. Several Kansas museums display one or two, also. Looking at them brings a flood of memories of my Grandpa Johnson.