Sorting through my boxes of photos today (remember when people printed their photos?), I came across a stack of photos I've been meaning to share for awhile. I don't know how or where these photos came to be in my possession, but I treasure them and have grand plans for a family history wall someday when we have more wall space and I have the full collection of both sides of Chad's and my families.
I am fascinated by old photos. My answer to that question, "If you could have a superpower, what would it be?" has always been time travel, hands-down. There is nothing more intriguing to me than learning about my ancestors and hearing bits and pieces of my personal family history. I would give anything to go back in time and ask my great-grandparents why they were deciding to leave Sweden and Germany and the Netherlands. Were they the first to leave? Did they like it here? Did they miss home? As time travel isn't exactly on the horizon just yet, I'll have to settle for looking through these great old photographs and making up stories of my own. I love the formality of them, too - no such thing as digital photography or snapshots, a photograph had to be planned for, often paid for, and the result is so lovely. Bowties and dresses, Sunday best. I love it.
I do know enough to narrate these a bit. My dad's side of the family all came from Sweden in the early 1900s. My great grandfather, Oscar Kullberg, came from central Sweden and landed in Rockford, Illinois, with his brother Henning. I know that Henning eventually moved back to Sweden from a letter I was lucky enough to have translated to me from Swedish to English last summer while visiting relatives in Sweden. My grandfather was then born in Wisconsin and eventually became a watchmaker; a trade he passed on to my dad, who has owned and run Kullberg Jewelers since my grandfather became unable to do so in the early 1980s. Without further ado, the Kullberg Family:
My grandfather Walter, so handsome! The back of this photo is labeled, "June 16th, 1929." It must be right around the time he and my grandmother Dorothy Tekla met, because the following photo of her has the same thing written on the back.
I love this photo. Check out those boots! And that hair! It's taken from such a cool vantage point, too. Props to the mystery photographer who shot this one. My dad could build, take apart, and rebuild a whole bunch of things from a young age, from dirtbikes to Volkswagon Beatles.
The early 1970s, man. My Uncle John, grandma, grandpa, Aunt Mary, and my dad on a pier over Lake Geneva. Groovy outfits + hairstyles, and the camera around my grandpa's neck makes me smile. Miss you, grandma, grandpa, and Uncle John!
That's all the family history I have for now. Stay tuned for a future post about my mom's side!