My Swedish relatives were having the Grand American Vacation: D.C., Gettysburg, Pittsburg, Oh My! It concluded with all of my father's charming family convening on a four-story lodge in a state park in the hill country. The place was huge and had a gorgeous view, but who would look when there were three cop cars in front of our house? Who knew it was illegal to shoot guns at trees in a state park? psh.
Yes, I didn't know my relatives were capable of it, but, yes! GUNS, and $270 fines, and court hearings...
Whatever; I wasn't anywhere near any of that nonsense.
On the other hand, the Swedes were awesome. I had met them before, six years ago, when I went to Sweden.
Kalle (Call-uh), my 3rd cousin, 11, was cool. He understands most English, but speaks little.
Anneli (Ahn-el-ee), his momma, my 2nd aunt, was super-sweet, and had a new pair of those earthy, sandal-tennis shoes for each day. She spoke excellent English, German, French, Swedish, of course, some Italian, and something else. Dar-ling!
Jonus (Yohn-us), her husband, was sweet. An engineer, of course. Wore the typical, stylish large-striped, nautical sweaters.
Toggi (tog-gee), Anneli's father, my Farfar's (grandpa's) 1st cousin, spoke mostly Swedish the whole time.
My Farmor and Farfar (grandma and grandpa) are both fluent in Swedish; their kids, my aunt, uncle, and dad, know some. It was really cool to hear them speak Swedish... my Farfar's jokes are still just as bad in other languages.
They were super-gracious and made the trip worthwhile. Our families, though they are growing more distant, still care and try to keep up with each other.
Vocab, anyone?
Tax-a-mica: Thank you very much.
Good dagh: Good day, hello.
Skoll!: Cheers! Drink, drink!
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