As I have been aware of forever, the first thing you have to do when someone finds out you’re a Swede is to prove it.  Doing a great Swedish Chef imitation,  being a fan of lutefisk, or having a grandma who can make perfect Swedish pancakes won’t cut it with the public.  Unless you were  born and dyed in the wool on Sweden’s Nordic lands or shores….nothing will change anyone’s mind that you’re just a plain ‘ole Swedish wannabe.  Sorry.  It’s totally unfair.  What’s worse is that when talking with someone and you both discover you have Swedish roots back to the ‘old country’.  Then, it’s off to the races as each one in turn for the honor of their ancestors,  names every family member back down the family history trail until one of you comes up with one more relative than the other which goes to show you, you just can’t win.  Swedes are so cotton-pickin’ proud and possessive of their heritage.  Thankfully, Erik and I don’t have to have that problem…we’re both Swedish pedigreed, come from separate areas of Sweden, have done Swedish genealogical research for over forty years and have loved every moment of it.  We know who is who in our past through our quest to link our families through the generations.   His mother was born and raised on the island of Gotland.  When she joined the church in 1949 she immigrated to Idaho and married the missionary who taught her the gospel.  Erik’s father’s family line also goes back into Sweden.  My ties are to my mother’s family who immigrated from Mora in Dalarna, county of Kopparberg to America in the early 1920’s and who made a living in the timber industry here in Washington.  So, the question is, who is really a Swede?  I think I can tell you.  A person has the right to call themselves Swedish when you realize at a very early age that  your grandparents can not clearly pronounce words containing the letters ‘w’ or ‘j’ or ‘th’.  Most can’t.  My grandma couldn’t.  But she did so often tell me stories of the loved ones she missed when she left behind her life, her dreams, and her family to come to a better land for the sake of her children.  I grew up knowing and loving relatives I had never met but knew everything about them and as well,  knowing they knew about me too.  My grandma taught me the Swedish skills she had learned, she taught me to love my heritage.  We loved being Swedish together.  Her people became my people and I am forever grateful that I can say that I am and always will be Swedish at heart and Swedish to the core.