Several readers guessed that Blix was supposed to be my mother' story.
I can tell you that my mother went to America. A new friend took my mother along to see a friend on Long Island. The name of this friend was Hilda and Hilda's home was in Viken.
Hilda was older than Blenda and had left Sweden late in the 1800 hundreds. But she was excited to meet another Viken-bo. And Hilda said, My brother is coming in a couple of weeks. Let me know how to reach you so you can come and meet him.
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2 comments:
Hello, I have just come back to Blogger and found your link. I used to read your posts several years ago. I started to use Facebook and forgot about blogger. I have always liked reading your posts and am glad I found you again. Thank you for sharing your stories. Have a nice day!
Hi Gertrud,
I hear you enrolled in a memoir writing class; how cool! I love what Sting wrote recently in the New York Times about his memoir writing experience:
"I began to realize while writing and remembering that memory is a neural muscle, and once you begin to stretch it, it grows to accommodate everything that has ever happened to you, often things you might prefer to forget. But the abiding emotions that sustained me through the process were gratitude and forgiveness; to use the newly developed muscle otherwise is largely a waste of time." Keep the posts coming.Steve
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