Three hours by ferry from Stockholm lies a large island out in the Baltic Sea. It has been in my thoughts ever since I was a small boy and my mother told me all about her home. She was born in Visby, the oldest daughter of a government forester, Erik Söderberg and his wife, Annie Stengård. They lived on Folingboväg where Erik had a tree nursery. Later they moved to Baldursgatan and the nursery was relocated there. My mother had a wonderful childhood and a loving family environment. She loved to tell us all about the people she loved and we children learned to love them as well, even though most of them we never met.
Erik was originally from Södermanland and moved to Gotland to take the forester position in 1920. Annie was a farm girl from Martebo, growing up on her father’s farm, Björkeskogs. He was from a long line of farmers, including five generations of men, each named Jöran Jöransson, all living at Stenkyrka. Other branches of his family came from Tingstäde, Ekeby and Lärbro.
Annie’s mother was the daughter of a sailor and a midwife. Her father went to America, never to return, but her mother supported herself and her family as a midwife, delivering many dozens of babies, setting broken bones and stitching up cuts and wounds of all sorts. This branch of the family came mainly from Tofta, Fröjel, Rone and Hablingbo.
So my roots run deep in Gotland, and I have longed to see it all my life. I had a chance once 45 years ago before I left Sweden on my first mission for home, but circumstances at the last minute prevented me from visiting the island and I have waited these long years to finally see it. As I have researched my family and studied some of the island’s history, it has become a part of me. How can a person long to return to a place he has never been? Well, we shall see.
