FEBRUARY 22, 2025 – (Cont.) The day before [January 12, 2025], while my sister Jenny was visiting our cousin Russ and his wife Kerri in California, they came across a letter that my grandfather had written to the Winthers back in June 1933. Russ emailed a scanned version to my other two sisters and me.
In his cover message Russ provided the context for the letter. His grandfather, Sigurd, had lost his job, had no income, and a wife and three young kids to support. For a year to a year-and-a-half, Sigurd remained unemployed, with no unemployment insurance or other public assistance benefits. “In this letter,” Russ wrote in his email, “your grandpa offered to provide financial assistance to our family [his grandparents, mother and uncles] at this time of need. I’ve heard this story many times but never saw the actual letter. Now we have it.” The letter, addressed to my great aunt and uncle, Jenny and Sigurd, said as much about Russ’s grandfather as it did about mine.
Minneapolis, Minn.
June 15 – 1933
5 A.M.
Dear Folks:
I have been thinking over your situation and that it best to write you and let you know just what my sentiments are.
If you will give me some idea as to how you folks are fixed in a financial way. Also, the amount you would need each month to make a go of it, maybe I can help you out.
My [violin] teaching business is and will be dull during July- Aug and Sept. But, Oct. I should be doing quite well with it again. I am of course still on the pay-roll of the Post-office – We are getting along O.K. If we can all keep well I am sure that we can make things come out alright.
The memory of our visit to you folks and that wonderful gift I have of being able to judge a man has caused me to write to you. [emphasis added]
We are getting by alright. Not rolling in wealth etc. but please let me know just how things are – We can help you right away if you need it.
And, remember, you are not playing square with the kids or yourself if you don’t let me know.
Please don’t misunderstand me about this matter – I want to do this for you if possible and am doing it (myself) and gladly – I don’t want any thanks etc. etc. etc – because I consider it a duty and feel that if I had some hard luck and you were able, that you would do the same thing. [emphasis added]
So much for that.
It sure was a dirty trick for the R.R. Co. not to allow passes – We are sorry you couldn’t visit us. Ray especially – We have such a nice green lawn for the kids to play around on –
I had made plans for Harry and Ray to have a real good time – Maybe they can have some fun together in the near future –
Am writing this on the job. Am sleepy as it’s hard to get much rest these hot days – And I have my pupils to take up a lot of time.
Haven’t time to read this over as I am going to stick it in the air mail pouch myself.
At least I hope that this letter has done what I intend it to do – To convey to your minds that I wish to help you and only hope that I will be able to. So, don’t worry about things. Keep well and don’t get down hearted –
With kindest Wishes
Ragnar
Say Hello to the “Kids”
Russ’s email continued: “There is probably a letter somewhere in [Minnesota] with a response that would be fascinating to see. The bottom line is that your family [my grandparents Nilsson] reached out a hand and helped . . . until Sigurd returned to his job, and for that our side of the family is eternally grateful—even almost 100 years on.”
If the letter said as much about Russ’s grandfather (as judged by a man with “a wonderful gift for judging another man”) as it said about my grandfather, Russ’s expression of gratitude “almost 100 years on” says much about Russ; and explains why, as we approach older age, if not flat out old age, I think of him as a brother.
Grandpa’s letter, I realized, spoke to me as much as it had to Russ. Written when Grandpa was 42, it served as a reminder to me at age 70 that generosity and gratitude are the two sides of a solid gold coin, around the sides of which are the many fine grooves of character.
The time machine fired up again, and the datometer rolled back to last summer, when Russ and Kerri visited us at the Red Cabin and Björnholm. If ever two people could enjoy being there with us as much as we enjoy being there with them, certainly Russ and Kerri are the ones. An element of that mutual sentiment is the memory of annual summer visits by Russ’s grandparents when I was a kid and for years before. Photos of Jenny and Sigurd are still on display inside the cabin at Björnholm. My favorite is of the two Svensson sisters—Hilda and Jenny—close together at the top of the steep bank just east of the cabin. Past the Norway boughs behind them, the lake can be seen stretching to the far horizon. My grandmother Hilda is looking at the camera while Russ’s grandmother Jenny, seated on a large stump, peers out at the water[1]. They’re the very image of contentment. (Cont.)
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
