Written by Gerda Charlotte Peterson Dahlberg (1894-1979)

Approximately one hundred years ago, when my mother was thirteen years of age, her mother, my grandmother Charlotta Lundquist (nee Johnson), decided to, with her four children, Anna Rebecca, Adolf, Nils, and Lars, join her husband, Gustave Lundquist, in America.

Gustave had left his home in Sweden to seek his fortune in America. After securing a home for his family he forwarded the means required for their journey, so that once again he would be united with his family.

It was early spring when Charlotta received word that Gustave had obtained reservations on a ship for them, and was forwarding fare for the tickets for her and the two older children. He had been informed that Nils, a toddler, and Lars, a babe in arms, did not require tickets. There was much ado in the Lundquist home in preparation for the long journey to America. Material must be woven and be made into clothes for the children. Charlotta was proud of her family. Her children must act and look their very best when they arrived in that great, and wonderful land, “America … the home of the brave and the free.”

Charlotta had been informed that the fare on the ship was not very palatable. She decided to prepare a few snacks they would enjoy when the food became too unappetizing. She would bake some bullar (buns), skorpor (rusks), and kakor (cookies). She would churn, and bring some nice sweet butter, and she would take some spieke skjot (dried beef) along. This would whet their appetites when the food on the ship became unappetizing.

Before bidding Sweden, their homeland goodbye, they would spend some time with Carlotta’s mother Fru Johnson, and brothers, John Jacob, and Gulman in Lund territory. Carlotta’s sister, Mina, would accompany them to America.

When they arrived at the seaport, they learned the ship they were to have boarded had already sailed. They were informed that another ship would be sailing to America in a short time. They obtained reservations, and were about to board the ship when Charlotta was told that Nils, whose little hand was gripping a fold in his mother’s skirt, must also pay fare. Charlotta was not prepared for this, and for a moment she did not know what she should do about it. Then, in a quick, tactful way, she brushed Nils’ little hand loose from his grasp. He soon became lost in the multitude of people. Charlotta and her other children boarded the ship without Nils, who in a few minutes was found screaming at the top of his voice. A gentleman picked him up, and was inquiring who the parents of the lost boy were. Charlotta who was anxiously watching, and waiting for this to happen, happily claimed her little boy. No further inquiry was made about his fare.

In the meantime, Charlotta’s husband, Gustav, was happily looking forward to the day his loved ones would arrive, when one day he received the sad news that the ship his family was to arrive on had shipwrecked. At the time he was heartbroken. Being a Christian and a man of faith, he had prayed much for their safe arrival. With a mixture of doubt, hope, and faith he arrived at the railroad station the day his family was expected to arrive. He well knew the Scripture, “If ye have faith as small as a mustard seed, ye shall be able to remove mountains.” (Matthew 17:20). The joy on his face as he spied his loved ones through the windows of the train cars cannot be expressed.

For a time they made their home with some dear old friends, the Pete Petersons near Hanley Falls, Minnesota. After a short time, they followed a railroad crew that was making a railroad west through South Dakota. They settled on a farm, which they homesteaded, three miles west of Strandburg, South Dakota, where they lived for many years.

They were blessed with four more children, Olga, Gotfred, Emmy, and Walmer.

In spite of hardships and inconveniences, they were happy living in a land of freedom. At this time South Dakota was not counted as a state. Indians and buffalo roamed the prairies. Cities, towns, and villages were few, and far between. My mother, Rebecca Lundquist Peterson, related to me how she and her father, Gustave Lundquist would walk ten miles or more to attend religious services in a newly built barn, where God-fearing emigrants and neighbors would assemble to worship the Lord.

It has been told how my Grandfather walked twenty-five miles to Watertown, South Dakota to purchase flower. How he carried it all the way home, I don’t know. When he was about half way home he was caught in what has been referred to as the blizzard of 1881. He was lost in the blizzard, but stumbled into a dugout where other emigrants were living. He was permitted to stay there until the storm abated.

The storm lasted almost four days. The time was spent walking the floor worrying about his family. Without warning the blizzard had moved in, at the time of day when his teenage boys would be taking the stock to water at the spring about half a mile from the barn.

Meantime, in the house, Rebecca, my mother, was waiting on her mother who was sick in bed. Glancing out through the window, she was aghast at what she saw, or should I say that she did not see. Not wishing to disturb her mother she quietly closed the bedroom door. She opened the outside door, and found she could scarcely see six inches ahead of her. “Oh,” she said, “My dear brothers, where are they? Will they be able to find their way home. Even if they are in the barn they will not be able to make it to the house.” After a silent prayer as to what she should do, she spied a ball of twine on a shelf in the entry. This she grabbed and tied the end of it to the door knob. Then she ventured out carrying the ball of twine with her in the hopes of getting to the barn and finding the boys there. As she stumbled along in the direction of the barn she saw a dark shadow. In the hopes of it being the barn she stumbled along. Yes, there it was, and there stood her three brothers. What a happy sight!

Her only question was, “How did you find your way to the barn?” They answered, “We followed Hepsey the old cow. She has trod the path many a time. Bless her, and bless you for thinking of the ball of twine. Without it we would not have made it to the house.”

In the evening while they were sitting around the table attempting to enjoy the evening meal and keep each others courage up, they were worrying lest their father would be among the victims who were found frozen after the great storm. A rasping was heard outside the door. It was difficult to tell who reached the door first. When the door was opened, grandfather fell head first to the floor. In a short time, they were able to revive him. The sad news about the frozen stock was related to him. With a smile on his face, his only comment was, “Thank the Lord, you are all here. That is all that matters.”