This story of Per Johan and Hulda Anderson and the journey that forever changed their life, and mine. I’m Carl Nelson, a great grandson born and raised in Portland, Oregon. I’m still not exactly sure what sets the Swedish-American apart from regular main-stream American, but I had an experience that made that part of me much more real.
In 2004, I had the privilege of traveling to Sweden and visiting my Great Grandparent’s ancestral homes. In doing that I visited Styrshult farm that was the boyhood home of Per Johan. Styrshult resembles very much the farm they created when they came to America. It is in a quite rural setting, lying just across from a small creek from the old
churchyard. With only a little imagination, I could hear the church bell pealing across the pastoral Swedish countryside and see young Per Johan walking with his mother, Sara Elisabeth, through the fields, across the creek and into the church. To the end, Per Johan (Morfar to us kids) and Hulda (Mormor to us kids) held closely their religious beliefs.
Edited by Leif Rosqvist
