Swenglish

While my dad was off in the South Pacific, operating radios on fragile little boats during WW2, my mom and I lived with my grandmother.  She was widowed very young, for her husband died at the age of 30 of TB, exacerbated by working underground in a deep shaft iron mine.

They were both immigrants from Sweden, which leads me to the subject of this post.  My grandmother came to this country with her sister, Maria, who married and lived up the hill a ways.  They  would talk on the phone a couple times a week, and when I was young I couldn't understand any of Lisa's side of the conversation.  It was all in Swedish.

But as I grew older, I was proud that I could understand more and more of what they said!  Of course I could!  Half of it was in English now.  They never used Swedish unless they were talking to each other. My grandmother never lost her Swedish accent, and I still love to hear someone speaking English with a Scandanavian accent.  It was my first language. 

Is that why my favorite character on Sesame Street was the Swedish cook, even if they were gently making fun of his accent?  He's my cooking guru, too.