Featured Writings/Stories Made by JHS Students
The Story of Gothard Nilsson
By Joy Johns
Edited by Mr. Trotman and Joy Johns
Edited by Mr. Trotman and Joy Johns
Setting: Early 1900's
Gothard Nilsson* took a deep breath of salty ocean air as he gazed at the coast of a country that he soon hoped to call home, the United States of America. That was the only thought that coursed through his mind while he took in the reality of what was happening. “I'm almost there.” he whispered to himself as the steam ship swayed and groaned. Although Gothard's heart ached and he wished himself back in his native country of Sweden, he knew he could never bear to go back there.
Gothard gave an involuntary shudder when he remembered Inga, alone and...pregnant. He remembered the day their parents had found out. His mother was heartbroken and his father was furious, Gothard winced as he took a look at his reflection in the steel railing on the deck and saw the remnants of an ugly bruise on his face. But worse than that, he remembered the shouting, the names his father had called him; the look of pain in Inga's eyes when her former friends turned away from her in disgust at church or at the market. The glance full of resentment she gave him when they happened to pass eachother on the sidewalk, her mother holding tightly to Inga's arm and her father trying to hold on to what was left of his family's dignity and –
Gothard was jerked suddenly out of his reverie by the blowing of the large ship's whistle, and with a sharp intake of breath and a quick run of his fingers through his thick blonde hair, he put the past behind him. Besides, that had been weeks ago; before he had run away from home and asked an American sea captain if he could work aboard his ship in exchange for his passage to the land of his dreams. Instead, he chose to focus on the future that was right before his eyes in Charleston, South Carolina. Gothard had tried to say the name of the city with the same dexterity as the captain, but English words twisted his toungue and made his throat hurt. When the ship finally stopped in the dock Gothard just stood by his small suitcase not knowing what to do.
The captain walked up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder;
“Now see here Nilsson,” he said kindly in heavily accented Swedish, “you will have to go to that building over there to get registered since you are what we call an 'immigrant'.”
Gothard thanked the captain and went to get registered. At the registry office he got a health examination and a lengthy interview about his intentions for coming to the country. Gothard told the immigration officials that he came to the U.S. to have a better life, which was true. But the scandle with Inga was none of their business, he thought.
When the immigration officials were satisfied, Gothard began the process of naturalization. He enrolled in a school to learn English at the advice of the immigration official's interpreter. Gothard studied hard the learn English and become a citizen. He did not want the government to deport him because of inability to assimilate, and as I have mentioned before, he never wanted to go back to Sweden again. However, Gothard had a longing to live with other Swedish people who understood him and didn't think he sounded funny or that his name was “heathenish”. The early 1900's were a turbulent time for immigrants on the east coast, and so Gothard moved to a community of Americanized Swedish people in Nebraska.
Gothard loved it in Nebraska and he changed his last name from Nilsson to Nelson so that his name would sound more American. But he was also very glad for the company of fellow Swedes, who accepted him readily (he was especially glad that they didn't know about his past). This, he thought, is the perfect place for a fresh start. After living in Nebraska for awhile Gothard met a beautiful girl named Martha, and soon they were married. They went on to have twelve children, and lived together very happily until his death.
Several years later, Gothard's children received word that a relative from Sweden was coming to visit them. This relative was the son of Inga, who had been searching for his father for many years. When he finally found out where his father had gone, it was too late, but he still went to Nebraska as an alien to visit his step-family and tell them his story. But when Gothard's children found out, the were infuriated.
“How dare you spread such lies about our father?! Our father was a good man!” they said.
This lead to a minor family feud that lasted for a couple decades, but it was broken up by later generations who finally realized that Inga's son's family was right. In the 1980's-1990's, a girl who found out about this story and her relation to Gothard Nelson, became a pen pal with one of her cousins in Sweden, sending him letters from her home here in the U.S. and waiting eagerly for a reply. This went on for awhile until her elderly cousin passed away. And that's how I came across this story. That girl is now my mother, and Gothard Nelson was my Great-Great-Great-Grandfather.
*Pronunciation: Gothard Nilsson – Goth-urd Neil-son
Disclaimer: Although this story is true (I really did have a Great-Great-Great-Grandfather named Gothard) some parts of this story have been fictionalized for lack of information.
Gothard Nilsson* took a deep breath of salty ocean air as he gazed at the coast of a country that he soon hoped to call home, the United States of America. That was the only thought that coursed through his mind while he took in the reality of what was happening. “I'm almost there.” he whispered to himself as the steam ship swayed and groaned. Although Gothard's heart ached and he wished himself back in his native country of Sweden, he knew he could never bear to go back there.
Gothard gave an involuntary shudder when he remembered Inga, alone and...pregnant. He remembered the day their parents had found out. His mother was heartbroken and his father was furious, Gothard winced as he took a look at his reflection in the steel railing on the deck and saw the remnants of an ugly bruise on his face. But worse than that, he remembered the shouting, the names his father had called him; the look of pain in Inga's eyes when her former friends turned away from her in disgust at church or at the market. The glance full of resentment she gave him when they happened to pass eachother on the sidewalk, her mother holding tightly to Inga's arm and her father trying to hold on to what was left of his family's dignity and –
Gothard was jerked suddenly out of his reverie by the blowing of the large ship's whistle, and with a sharp intake of breath and a quick run of his fingers through his thick blonde hair, he put the past behind him. Besides, that had been weeks ago; before he had run away from home and asked an American sea captain if he could work aboard his ship in exchange for his passage to the land of his dreams. Instead, he chose to focus on the future that was right before his eyes in Charleston, South Carolina. Gothard had tried to say the name of the city with the same dexterity as the captain, but English words twisted his toungue and made his throat hurt. When the ship finally stopped in the dock Gothard just stood by his small suitcase not knowing what to do.
The captain walked up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder;
“Now see here Nilsson,” he said kindly in heavily accented Swedish, “you will have to go to that building over there to get registered since you are what we call an 'immigrant'.”
Gothard thanked the captain and went to get registered. At the registry office he got a health examination and a lengthy interview about his intentions for coming to the country. Gothard told the immigration officials that he came to the U.S. to have a better life, which was true. But the scandle with Inga was none of their business, he thought.
When the immigration officials were satisfied, Gothard began the process of naturalization. He enrolled in a school to learn English at the advice of the immigration official's interpreter. Gothard studied hard the learn English and become a citizen. He did not want the government to deport him because of inability to assimilate, and as I have mentioned before, he never wanted to go back to Sweden again. However, Gothard had a longing to live with other Swedish people who understood him and didn't think he sounded funny or that his name was “heathenish”. The early 1900's were a turbulent time for immigrants on the east coast, and so Gothard moved to a community of Americanized Swedish people in Nebraska.
Gothard loved it in Nebraska and he changed his last name from Nilsson to Nelson so that his name would sound more American. But he was also very glad for the company of fellow Swedes, who accepted him readily (he was especially glad that they didn't know about his past). This, he thought, is the perfect place for a fresh start. After living in Nebraska for awhile Gothard met a beautiful girl named Martha, and soon they were married. They went on to have twelve children, and lived together very happily until his death.
Several years later, Gothard's children received word that a relative from Sweden was coming to visit them. This relative was the son of Inga, who had been searching for his father for many years. When he finally found out where his father had gone, it was too late, but he still went to Nebraska as an alien to visit his step-family and tell them his story. But when Gothard's children found out, the were infuriated.
“How dare you spread such lies about our father?! Our father was a good man!” they said.
This lead to a minor family feud that lasted for a couple decades, but it was broken up by later generations who finally realized that Inga's son's family was right. In the 1980's-1990's, a girl who found out about this story and her relation to Gothard Nelson, became a pen pal with one of her cousins in Sweden, sending him letters from her home here in the U.S. and waiting eagerly for a reply. This went on for awhile until her elderly cousin passed away. And that's how I came across this story. That girl is now my mother, and Gothard Nelson was my Great-Great-Great-Grandfather.
*Pronunciation: Gothard Nilsson – Goth-urd Neil-son
Disclaimer: Although this story is true (I really did have a Great-Great-Great-Grandfather named Gothard) some parts of this story have been fictionalized for lack of information.