I am blessed by Swenson uncles who showed me the very best of men, and here they are:

Uncle Andy (GAS Jr.):  Uncle Andy was very close to my mother, Mary Ellen, his younger sister.  He was the oldest of 5 children of Guy Swenson, and she was next, the oldest daughter.  There are many photos of them together as children.  I have letters that he wrote to her during WWII.  When I was uncertain about staying in UCBerkeley graduate school, he took a trip with her to California so she could spend time with me and talk to me about it.  (I stayed.)  When my Mom died, and my Dad died a week later, he and Uncle Dave came to let my siblings and I know that it would be important to keep calm and carry on with dignity, regardless of our sadness and loss.  Uncle Dave made us swear on a Bible that we would.  Later, Uncle Andy’s comment that I had done a good job allowed me to come to some kind of closure from a difficult journey.  Apparently, having held it together when my Mom died, Uncle Andy wept at the loss of his cat a few weeks later, grieving in an environment where being a role model was not required.

In my life, in addition to giving me material gifts, he was a steady, kind, warm and reassuring presence.  My mother and aunt regarded his visits to Rye as special, always making sure he had something special to eat.  I saw the easy humor among them and came to regard his visits as special too.  On one occasion, when around the age of 12, I floated out in the ocean on a raft, unaware that I was farther than I could stand, he walked nonchalantly out through the waves and pulled the raft in.  He could have shouted and waved, embarrassing my young self; not his style.  He was acutely aware of other people’s feelings.  We never needed to find out whether I could have paddled myself in to shore; possibly not.

He and his boys visited us regularly not only in Rye but in Bethesda, all a part of growing up.  Later in life, he and Mary showed us and all their visitors a degree of hospitality and food that said that they had just been hoping you might drop by.  I visited him in Concord Hospital when it became clear that he was having health problems that didn’t always resolve.  I wept at his graveside service.  He remains for me a wise, practical and patient example of what a man can be.

Uncle Dave (DES):  Uncle Dave always had a smile for us.  He must have loved his nieces and nephews. While wishing, I’m sure, that we took to household chores as readily as he did (which I didn’t), he maintained a sense of humor and was always there to help.  I remember him working on projects at the Straw’s Point house more than I remember seeing him at the beach, but I’m sure he was helping Granny.  He had a keen sense of responsibility for his parents, becoming the key caregiver for Grandpa after Granny died in 1968.  

Uncle Dave tried to teach me skills that my parents hadn’t gotten around to, like how to drive a stickshift and how to ski.  (Aunt Betty called him a natural skier.)  I lacked confidence in my ability to manage the manual shift, and remember grinding the gears in his Peugeot with the lesson ending in defeat.  Likewise, my own conviction that I could not ski led to frustration there too.  But I always remembered that he believed that I COULD do these things, and on the second tries, in my 20’s, with Paul’s (my husband’s) assistance, I mastered both.  What Uncle Dave did was boost my optimism, and eventually, I even learned a work ethic that drove me to help with those chores in Rye.

Devastatingly handsome, blessed with charm and humor, Uncle Dave was pursued by young women, to hear Aunt Betty tell it and she did name a few whose efforts to end his bachelorhood failed.  Ultimately, he settled down with Harriet Kerr, very happily.  

Uncle Dave was very far right politically, when the Republican Party was the party of Eisenhower, Reagan and Bush.  He stopped giving money to Yale University when Yale went coed. At the same time, during Vietnam, when I found my left-leaning voice in college and helped lead a strike at Mount Holyoke, he maintained a jovial, even joking and indulgent relationship with his niece, me.  I wanted to be angry or annoyed at the flag symbol on the car window, at the time interpreted as a counter-left choice of décor, but it was hard when he was picking me up for dinner with Grandpa or showing me his usual kindness, willingness to listen and sense of humor.  A capstone of this generosity of spirit was the time that he had a small plane piloted from Concord fly to western Massachusetts to take me from college to Concord to visit Grandpa for the weekend.  My college friends were surprised, but I saw it all as part of my Swenson life.  Once in Concord, I hope I did not start too many political arguments.  When I complained about the cold, damp western Massachusetts winters, David made sure I had socks with batteries and my Grandma’s old fur coat to see me through.  

Continuing his moral and logistic support, shortly after attending my wedding, Uncle Dave hosted my in-law’s, Frank and Roberta, who came to see the Northeast where their son, Paul, would spend August each year.  For these visiting Californians, Uncle Dave set out several areas to see, starting with Concord and a walk to the quarry up Rattlesnake Hill.  I am sure we also ate at his go-to restaurant, the Archway.  I  remember how warmly received and well-hosted Frank and Roberta felt, and how grateful Paul and I were for David’s expansive welcome.  We were on hand for his wedding with our first little one, Whitney.  Later, Uncle Dave’s death seemed impossible as he was so young, 72.  A snowstorm kept us from the memorial but memories last regardless.

Uncle Mal (JMS):  Uncle Mal fulfilled the role of the exciting uncle, my mother and aunt’s youngest brother who was always doing something unexpected, whether breaking his ankle skiing, getting married at the top of a mountain in Austria or driving unusual fast cars.  He regaled us with his adventures and a dry sense of humor.  Getting a ride in his latest car was a highlight we could depend upon each summer, and every summer’s car was different.  I particularly remember the Citröen because after turning on, the car slowly lifted itself up higher on its tires to driving position!  Miraculous. Throughout our lives, no matter when or wherek we showed up, Malcolm always made us feel welcome, often by hosting a very nice dinner. 

My personal gratitude was triggered when of all the people I knew, he was the one to sit down and write me about the shocks I might experience on moving nearly overnight from a Maryland suburb to New Delhi and Kathmandu, in the 1960’s.  His letter explained how people react when hungry or desperate and what I might see.  The letter arrived in Bethesda before we left, when I was still in the 14-year-old throes of resisting leaving friends and school to move abroad mid-year.

  I remembered it well when I got to Delhi and Kathmandu and saw people with parts of their faces missing from leprosy and people begging right and left.  It was a hard but important message to send and I am grateful still for the effort he took to do it. 

Susan Swenson Vogelsang’s Recollections

1. Aunt Betty falling out of the window as Grandpa drove into the driveway for lunch.  She fell, fortunately, into a bush and was alright, but it was quite a sight for Grandpa. (From MESV, uncles or maybe AB)

2. Granny forgetting to pick up the children waiting outside of Sunday School as she drove her car by to get the ice cream for Sunday (midday) dinner.  (Gran always had Sunday midday dinner.) (MESV, AB)

3. Lucy, their dog, going out the door at 111 Centre Street and waiting for the bus, getting on the bus and riding downtown, and riding home again. (AB)

4. Armenian neighbors advising that the goats that the Swenson’s gave them as pets got “et”.  In Uncle Dave’s recounting, they said, “We et em.”  Assume that Uncle Dave who told this one a number of times, thought these goats would remain the pets that the Swenson’s had.  Somehow I thought the goats may have started in Rye, but not sure.  The implication was that the Swenson children greeted this news tearfully.

5. Aunt Allie(?) who wore a black cord around her neck.  Betty and Mary Ellen at least, if not all the children, were told by her that if she took it off, her head would fall off! Could it have been Aunt Jenny?

6. The children ice-skated on the pond in Concord and skied down Centre Street on wooden skis where you stuck your feet into the binding.  At White Park.

7. Grandma and Grandpa gave frequent parties in Concord, laughing with their friends, his brother’s families, the Goodman’s, the Jenkins…the Branches?  Granny always wanted me to play with Tracy Branch.

8. Following Chris’s memories of 111 Centre Street with mine: 

A happy palace for a little girl, Granny and Grandpa’s was both a cozy, safe harbor and an exciting treasure to explore, new every visit since I always forgot its details when I was gone.  Their grandparent joy in seeing me was apparent every time I was there.  It was hard to choose between rushing right up to the playroom, to be lost there for hours, or trying out the Baby Grand, or watering plants on the breakfast sun terrace or checking out the bedrooms to see if I could tell who was home.  The sunroom had lattice arranged around the edges so that the plants that surrounded the room could be watered haphazardly by a child with a watering can and the water went through the lattice under the pots to some sort of drain.  

In the sunroom, one of Granny’s great joys was watching my cousins, Guy, Chris and later Jack, cross the street in front of her house to Dewey School. She never failed to point out how she could see them every morning and how sometimes they stopped in at the end of school.  I never remember seeing them myself but maybe I was visiting during school holidays.  I certainly thought it was enviable to walk to school across the street from your grandparents.

I usually stayed in my mother’s room, characterized by pink satin quilts.  The uncles and Aunt Betty had rooms that still spoke of their individual tastes:  my mother’s sophistication, Aunt Betty’s matching drapes and bedspreads, Malcolm’s gun collection and David’s 3rd floor hideaway.  I am sure Uncle Andy had a room but he had moved out long before I visited.  

The playroom was magical.  A full set of National Geographics from many years, and a wide range of classic children’s books filled shelves that circled the room.  Books were sometimes clearly marked, “A Boy’s Guide to the Outdoors” or similar titles to help little men grow up.  There were stuffed animals, toy soldiers and more under the lids of the benches also on the sides.  In the center of it all was the dollhouse, with its residents dressed in late Victorian, early 20th century clothing, many with porcelain bodies and flexible joints.  

The dollhouse had 3 stories at least, and maids as well as an exhaustive array of furnishings.  Metal baby bathtubs, rocking chairs, miniature horsehair sofas, dishes and fireplaces were just the start.  Beds had their own coverlets.  Endless rearrangement of furniture was possible.  While some dollhouse people were too big for some pieces of furniture, stories of doll family life were easy to imagine and bring to life. 

I can’t remember being bored but I do remember heading outdoors as we were often there in the warmer seasons.  Out back was a two-level garden.  Sets of glass doors on the long, long living room led to a brick patio on the first garden level.  The patio gave onto 3 long white steps with balustrades up to the higher lawn and a pond.  The pond possessed its own magic and when I asked and Granny had time, she came out to turn on the waterfall that ran down the back of the wall behind the pond, splashing into it.  Magical for sure.

111 Centre had a cook at times, who presided over the kitchen and butler’s pantry at the back of the house.  She indulged my questions.  That is where I learned that despite her awareness of social standing, my Granny’s house was marked by the ‘hobos’ as one where they could show up at the back door and be given something to eat.  This must have been very important during the Depression years.

My memories would only be complete if I noted the fun that Granny and Grandpa and parents and uncles and aunt and cousins had together and with their friends.  Friends appeared at 111 Centre from time to time, and I remember understanding that I would always have a place in these adult gatherings, getting my ginger ale and perhaps crackers and cheese but also being welcome to wander off on my own.  I only hope that my grandparents understood somehow, that between their joy in having me there and the infinitely interesting surroundings, I appreciated everything about them. When I think of the perfect grandmother, I think of Granny.

1. Every evening, the adults had drinks on the porch.  If one didn’t drink alcohol, like my Dad, one had one’s favorite drink, in his case, tomato juice.  I got ginger ale.  There was always cheese and crackers.

2. Famous Swenson dogs:  Grandma and Grandpa- BARNEY, a wonderful St. Bernhard.  It was hard to fit through the Straw’s Pt kitchen door when Barney was also coming through.  He was friendly and huge! Uncle Andy – Mr. Chips, black and glossy; Uncle Dave, Cecil.

3. Uncle Andy came whenever he could.  He always had breakfast on the way down at ?  Likewise, Uncle Dave had his favorite diner in Concord, The Archway Restaurant.

4. The Straw’s Point house had a barn behind it, with an enticing second floor.  We were told not to play or go in the barn as it might fall down.  On its interior walls in big letters, some of the 5 children painted their initials:  EHS and DES, I think, for sure.  Burning down the barn was made an exercise for the Rye Fire Dept. when it needed to be gotten rid of sometime in the 1980’s, I think.  Uncle Dave took charge and we got photos; not something to be done with children about.

5. The generation of the 5 children followed a tradition of partying that was well-established in Rye Beach!  I was cautioned growing up about the perils of drinking and driving with 2 tales of boys who had missed the curve in 1A near Little Boar’s Head and ended up dead in the sea.  This was an effective caution, at least for me.

6. Rye Beach weekends quieted down on Sunday, usually including church at St. Andrew’s and then Sunday dinner.  [This tradition continued/continues into my generation.  I was always pleased that unlike the Catholic kids, Protestant children did not go to hell if they missed church. ] Then the whole family, still nicely dressed, ate a midday Sunday dinner, organized by Granny.  One antic that enlivened those before my time was the tendency of Marshall Cannell to crawl about under the dining table when his family, led by Aunt Katie, was invited to Granny’s Sunday dinners.  I remember Marshall’s lively sense of humor and an interest in family in his older years. We saw him in Boston.  Aunt Katie, Marshall’s grandmother, was Katharine Elizabeth Hopewell [Cannell] (1864-1949), part of the 5 Swenson children’s lives.  Perhaps there should be a Bolan reunion someday.

7. On special occasions, we had lobsters.  This was an adventure then, picking up the squirming lobsters from the lobster pound, probably Ray’s, and dumping them into hot water.  Not sure I have the same fascination with this now, but it was a ritual then.  We always had potato chips, butter, vegetable or salad and rolls, and ice cream!  Sometimes orders were mixed up if there were 2 Swenson orders;  Uncle Arthur’s family was also having lobsters.

8. Ice cream was still special then too.  Some people still had iceboxes, so the iceman came to Straw’s Point in an old wooden flatboard truck with huge tongs to take the blocks of ice into Meigs house in particular.  (We had a refrigerator.)  The iceman let us ride on the back and eat ice chips as he rounded the Point.  We never lacked for something fun to do.

9. Other than 2 houses that were rented, the same families had the Straw’s Point houses:  2 Swenson’s, Floyd/Burkham (parent and daughter, Libby’s house), Whittemore’s, Meigs and McLaughrey/Jackson.  The McLaughrey’s house was famous among us kids for the player piano, which was remarkable to watch as the reels cycled by.  (That is now the Tyco house.) Dogs ran free and there were loads of wildflowers and bicycles.

10. Aunt Nancy, Guy’s mother and Andy’s wife, taught me to ride a bike by putting my foot on a stone and pushing off and just pedaling as hard as I could until I got my balance.  After a few falls, I got the knack.  Her matter-of-fact approach to all things (including menstruation) was a boon to an otherwise shy girl.  We often had a rented tandem bike which was glorious fun to ride around the Point.  She was a wonderful role model for athleticism and feminism both. Aunt Betty loved the tandem bike.

11. Rye could be cold in summer at times.  My Granddad made a fire and let me add things dropping twigs or paper behind the screen to see them burst into flames.  I remember sitting at his feet in front of the fire, as we talked or he read.  I can smell the cigar smoke.  I still have a good association with the smell of cigars. We sometimes took family beach walks in the wind and the rain, in our raincoats.

12. Our house had a cut-out pattern on the sides of the front stairs, so it was fun if possible to sit on the stairs in pjs, peeking out of the cut-outs and listen to adults talking after our bedtimes.  We were frequently caught.  Our cousins, Guy, Chris and Jack, were better disciplined and less likely to get out of bed once put there.

13.  Groceries were delivered by S.S. Pierce, with a deliveryman who drove up to the back of the house and unloaded what he thought we needed into the pantry.  He just came and went periodically.

14. Uncle Mal had a new car every year, usually something exotic, like an MG sport car convertible or a Citroen that elevated when it started.  Rides in these was always a highlight. Uncle Dave had Peugeots and Grandpa, ultimately, had the Humber.

15. Mrs. Whittemore’s chauffeur, who lived on the Point in the former rooming house a bit beyond Kevin’s house on the other side, put the flag up and down every day, followed by a bevy of children to help.  It was another great ritual and we all learned how flags should be folded and not allowed to touch the ground.

16. The uncles always slept in when they were at Straw’s Point and we were told to be quiet so they could.  I never realized that had to do with active party schedules the night before.  I thought that uncles slept late, period, as part of their role.  Speaking of partying, in my Grandmother’s generation, Mr. Meigs senior, had a reputation for driving home diagonally across the green as a shortcut to his house.  There was some concern that he might hit someone one day but he never did as far as I know.

17. In the morning, my Grandpa walked to Philbrick’s store (which he called Carberry’s, its old name) for the morning paper.  It’s now Rye Country Store.  We walked across the rocks on the Point Extended since the England’s encouraged walkers as long as they squared their corners and didn’t cut across the lawn.  I went with him and he always bought me items I never got otherwise, like comic books and gum.  He pointed out the sandpipers on the beach.

18. Also in the mornings the children went to the rocks looking for crabs and bringing them home in pails.  Kris Jackson and I built forts by our kitchen porch, using building paper and old pieces of plywood.  The forts didn’t hold up well, so Granny never minded.  She certainly never minded how unsightly they must have been. They were gone by the end of summer.

19. Kris, Libby and I used to dress up upstairs in the Jackson barn (later the Milne house, the old one, last before the brand-new complex at the end of the point opposite Kurt’s). The barn’s second floor had several trunks of 1890’s dresses, some with stays.  We had our favorite dresses, and mine was a white one with stays and lace on the bodice. They were all full-length.  We wore lipstick and pulled up our hair if we could.  We used an old drop-sided toaster to make cinnamon toast and had tea up there.  We were extremely elegant.  A massive firetrap for sure.

20. As we got older, Kris and I would bike to ‘Green Velvet’ on Central Road and wherever we wanted to bike.  Green Velvet had a wonderful soft lawn so we went there to sample that on our feet.  She seemed to know good places to go.  She was not a Beach Club member and I remember being told she could not join us, as sometime during the late morning, we typically went there to swim, with my mother or a babysitter.  (Kris, who was always doing things I was not allowed to do, jumped off the red bridge at the harbor to swim.)

21. We never missed a Beach Club swim lesson unless there was an active storm.  The North Atlantic is where we lived and the weather surrounding it, even when cold and blustery, was part of our lives. We did get warm towels and hot cocoa after lessons, but we always went. I loved the water and remember my lips turning blue with cold in the ocean and likely, in the pool.  The pool water was pumped from the ocean but a bit warmer than the ocean because it sat in the sun.

I was born on my parents' wedding anniversary, February 20,1947 in Concord, New Hampshire. The date was a scheme dreamed up by the doctor according to my mom. Apparently the doctor wanted to go on a trip, so he did whatever they did in 1947 to induce babies I have a photo of her bringing me home from the hospital, eleven days later (long stays not unusual for those days), wearing a mink coat and hat, looking very glamorous. 

1947 -1961: Concord was a small town. Growing up, my brothers and I, along with neighbor children, walked to Dewey Elementary School, about a block and a half away (and incidentally across the street from Guy and Mildred Swenson's house). In 1960 we moved from Ridge Road to 16 Auburn Street, just a half block away. It was a granite house built by Omar Swenson. Walking to the junior high took much longer. I walked to my friends’ houses in the next block, and we usually walked to school carrying our books and folders. Backpacks were not a thing then. It was 1.7 miles but the time went quickly. We could ride our bikes anywhere in town, play outside in the neighborhood for hours, sled the hill on Franklin Street just 3 houses down from our house on Ridge Road, and play games like softball in the backyard using our lawn and the one of a neighbor next door. Whites Park with a skating pond was in our neighborhood, and my brothers played sports there, baseball and hockey. We could walk in the woods behind our house to a creek and follow it to nearby Thayer’s Pond. I walked or biked everywhere… to school, parks, downtown, piano lessons. We all knew when we were expected home for dinner. 

1962 - 1965: Starting in 10th grade I went to an all girls boarding school, Abbot Academy in Andover, Massachusetts. Abbot went coed a few years after I graduated. That was a theme in my life, because Dartmouth also went coed a few years too late for me to attend. Schools were finding they had to adjust to the times in order to thrive. Abbot provided an excellent education, but was very restrictive in real world situations. It still was run like it was 1862, not 1962. We wore dresses for dinner. They limited our off campus time, where we could go, when, how often, who with (only classmates). We had to sign in and sign out, write down where we were going, and this could only be done in “free time” in the afternoon, after classes and before late afternoon enforced study hall, which took place in, literally, a large study hall. Then it was dinner, and more study hall time, although that was in our rooms. Academically, it was rigorous, enough so that I skated easily through my first two years of college at Michigan State University. 

1965 - 1969: Michigan State was totally opposite from the atmosphere of Abbot, a very large coed school, with the opportunity to get into all sorts of mischief. Some freshman did not do well with the freedom of being away from home and had trouble keeping up their studies while wanting to party all the time. Luckily I had a good base from all those enforced study halls and was able to concentrate on getting the work done, and party as well. My favorite part of MSU was attending all the great sporting events. Big Ten hockey, football, basketball, track, swim meets…all a short walk away. Those were glory years for MSU football, going to the Rose Bowl. I graduated in 1969 with a major in Political Science and a minor in Art History, thinking law school was next. 

1969 - 1973: While living near the Motor City (Detroit), I traded my Volvo sedan, a gift from my grandmother Katharine, for a new dark orange Pontiac GTO with positraction. I was never sure what that meant but it sounded cool. I had applied to law school, and was accepted, but realized that was not for me. For a short time I lived and worked in Boston for American Automobile Association, filling out Triptiks for members to follow as they drove around the country. No GPS or Google Maps in those days! Triptiks were actually small booklets made up of a few miles of a journey. I would pull the various pages appropriate to the journey, assemble them into a packet, use a marker to mark the route, and include regular appropriate AAA state and city maps, and mail them out. That was when I knew my true passion was geography. This job only lasted long enough for me to figure out how to get everywhere in the US. To my parents' dismay, I traded in my GTO for a used Volkswagen Bus and started taking trips around the country. This was possible thanks to John Arthur Swenson, who had the generosity to gift us grandchildren stocks like GM and AT&T from early childhood. I was itching to get on the road! 

I drove to Michigan to pick up my old roommate and we went to Florida for a trip. I went to Georgia to see another ex-roommate, Donna. She had been to Woodstock, where she met and very soon married an Army service man. The south was a scary proposition as far as I was concerned. Segregation was blatant, the tension palpable, the poverty in the country areas widespread. My mom had given me a blow up German Shepard dog she wanted me to put in the car on my travels which I never did, but I think I carried it in the car. This was the era of the Selma to Montgomery Marches with Martin Luther King, and enforced integration of schools in the South. Black people fighting for their rights and the white people who went south to support them were being killed, and it was being documented on television. Televisions had become more commonplace in the 1960’s. Before that radios gave the news, and watching wars, riots, and demonstrations via television really impacted this country. There were three main channels: ABC, CBS and NBC, no comparison to multi-media today. 

The first time I went to visit Donna, she and her husband Bob were living near a base in small town Hinesville, Georgia. The second time I visited they had transferred to the Atlanta area. A group of his friends were planning to head to Oregon to start a commune as soon as they were discharged from the Army. They had served in Vietnam, and were still living the memories of that war. They wanted to experience the cultural revolution and maybe just drop out for a time. I joined in with their plan. I drove out to Portland, Oregon with my friend, Chris Kelly from Boise, Idaho, who was discharged earlier than his friends, for a winter while we waited for the rest of the group to follow. While in the Portland area, I met one of my Chris’s schoolmates from Boise, Idaho, Steve Richter. Eventually, through Steve, I met his good friend, Jay Shue, also from Boise, but living in Oregon. And that is why we tell people we met because of Woodstock. Woodstock: Donna + Bob + Chris (Boise) = Steve + Jay (Friends/Boise). 

In the winter of 1972, a group of four friends bought property in Southern Oregon, an old mining claim in Sunny Valley. To access the property, it was necessary to walk across a high railroad trestle over Grave Creek (yikes… its true), or drive through the creek. The commune was appropriately named “The Trestle”. It was hot and dry with rattlesnakes. The only way to cool off was to walk down the dirt track on a steep hill to the creek, but by the time you walked back up you were hot again. I was in a tent for awhile, then constructed (with lots of help) a wooden platform and put up an old parachute for cover. Not great in that hot climate as it did not allow for air flow, but neither did the old canvas tent. Work proceeded slowly on building a barn and a sauna. There was a small old miner’s cabin on the property that the four property buyers lived in, while the rest of us camped. Water had to be hauled up from the creek in a truck. Donna, who was very sociable, invited all and sundry to visit that first summer. This considerably slowed construction as whoever arrived brought pot and beer, which was consumed immediately. The dome they envisioned got built the next year, but by that time Jay and I had left the commune, seeking our own property, in late summer of 1972. 

1972 - 2024: We eventually found 40 acres in the west hills outside of McMinnville, Oregon, which we purchased in November 1972. McMinnville then was famous for walnuts and turkeys. It was a rural area in the Williamette Valley, about 30 miles south of Portland. The city’s summer festival was Turkey-Rama. Wine grapes were being planted in the area in 1973. A bad winter storm wiped out the walnuts, and farmers started planting hazelnuts. The growth of the wine industry and the way it has changed Yamhill County is phenomenal. Now McMinnville is in the heart of Oregon Pinot Noir and hazelnut country, and Turkey-Rama is no more. I attended Linfield University and attained my teacher’s certificate, then Western Oregon for my masters in Interdisciplinary Studies, geography, education and computer science. The computer science was very helpful in preparing for the explosion of home computers. I bought my first Mac around 1976. They used floppy disks ( look it up, hard to describe). The owner of the local used book store started a computer club where we shared knowledge as advancements came along. 

Jay and I were married in July, 1973 in Concord. We were picking up various farm animals for our acreage: chickens, goats, a couple of steers, and eventually we settled on sheep and chickens, as they were more easily managed. One year we raised 25 turkeys. Big mistake. Jay had a full time job, and eventually we worked our way up to running about 40 sheep. Our son Jesse was born in 1975, John in 1977 and our daughter Holly in 1981. I think my first job in Oregon was driving a lunch truck, which did not last long. Another year I took an H and R Block course, did taxes for a season, and thereafter did our taxes for many years. I worked as a substitute teacher once I got my teaching certificate. We owned a small beach house on the Oregon Coast in the early 80’s which we rented out, and stayed at for beach time. It became a chore as there was always work to be done and animals to be cared for at home, so after five years we sold it. We have always had a huge vegetable garden, and many perennial gardens, inspired by the famous perennial gardens we visited in England, and bulb gardens we visited at Keukenhof in Holland. For a few years in the 1990’s I taught full time. 

During summer vacation the kids and I headed to Rye Beach. Kurt, Kevin and I worked out a three week rotation each summer, varying the dates between early, middle and late summer. My mom would come stay with me and the kids. Holly spent a lot of time at the Guy Swenson house visiting with whichever family was occupying it. We also took lots of vacations with the kids, driving or flying, to see national parks and monuments all over the West, various train trips and camping trips in Oregon. We started river rafting with a group of friends and did both group and family trips on Oregon’s rivers. Once the kids were older Jay and I continued traveling solo, adding a couple of days to a long holiday weekends if he was still working to see places like Durango, Colorado and Charleston, South Carolina. In college, Jesse was doing a “study abroad” program in England. I planned a trip for the family to visit him. We went to England and Scotland, but ironically, Jesse did not like the study program and had returned by the time the rest of us went over. Jay and I have continued to travel around Europe, including two visits to Sweden, meeting Swedish cousins, and seeing the areas where John Swenson and Ellen Anderson Swenson lived. 

In 2000, my mom, Marie, gave me her Naples, Florida condominium. We rented that out while Jay continued to work full time. When he retired, and we lost our long time renter, we decided to have it renovated and use it ourselves in 2011. Our sheep herd had dwindled, so we sold the last few. We drove across the country and back for the winter with our dog until 2022 when we sold the condominium. Each trip we took a separate route, from Northern Montana and Idaho to the Texas border, getting off freeways for side routes, exploring places such as the Nashville Trace, the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Blues Trail in Mississippi; delighting in finding the Harvey Houses of the West, exploring legends and history and gorgeous vistas everywhere. Sometimes we would stop to see friends or relatives along the way. We continue to explore. Last year we bought a villa in Uvita, Costa Rica, near the area where our son John’s family resides most of the time. 

Adjectives:

Solid, loyal (to family, to friends family and the family Granite Business), authentic, devoted (to Harriet, the love of his life), responsible (lending a hand to fix broken screens at the Rye Beach house and doing the dishes), supportive, committed (bettering himself and others), educated (Phillips Andover, Yale and Harvard), patient (learned behavior with grandchildren when he was in married in mid-life), faithful (Saint Paul’s Church, where he was married), humble, hard-working (cutting granite at Rattlesnake Hill and demonstrating at Canterbury, NH (Shaker Village), well-tailored (well-designed and spotless clothes from prior eras), frugal, helpful (washing dishes at Rye family gatherings), responsible, politically conservative and willing to debate, devoted (to Harriet and to this family), proud (again, of Harriet and his relatives.) 

Memories and moments: 

• Travels to Europe, sometimes with Harriet, teaching that using a leather briefcase was all you need to travel overseas.  A fresh change of clothes and some paperwork. For a few days or a week. Annual vacations to Lake Kanasatka in Center Harbor, Rye and wherever Harriet wanted to go, eating lobster across from young Steven at a Rye restaurant where Steven paid rapt attention to this endeavor, ignoring his own meal, annual Christmas visit with Malcolm and his family, including Iwonka, Eva and David. 

• Daily breakfast of shredded wheat and banana, 365 days per year. 

• David worked at The Swenson Granite Company in Concord, NH and then became a granite marketing specialist at Swenson Stone Consultants. He traveled the world looking at granite quarries everywhere. He also demonstrated granite stone cutting at the Canterbury, NH Shaker Village events, always eager to show this dying profession and eager to answer questions about the process and hand tools.

• David loved his family fiercely. As the last adult child at home, he lived with and cared for his elderly father for the last years of his life while David worked full-time at the granite company. A creature of habit, every night work he ate at The Archway Restaurant in Concord, where Ernie & Barbara Economides always had his meal ready. They were just some of his long-standing Concord friends and acquaintances. David & Harriet’s rehearsal dinner was held here.

• David was a good and loyal friend to many his whole life. Tom Dudley would tell of how David was the first to welcome Tom to Phillips Andover and to local friends Buzz Tilton, and Kimon Zachos, with whom he walked to elementary school. They all grew up to become well-known in their fields. 

• Uncle David would kindly discuss politics and enjoyed debating with his nephews and nieces, as well as with Harriet’s son, Bill, a liberal and expert historian. Lots of laughter ensued at debates.

• David got the highest academic test score and highest workman score of his military unit so he was put in charge of his unit when going on some travel. IE – intelligence and laborer work – assumption no one can be smart in both.

Facts:

• David Eric Swenson was born February 2, 1931 in Concord, NH to Guy Sr and Mildred Swenson. 

• He was the third of five children, after Andy, Mary Ellen and before Betty and J. Malcolm. 

• David married Harriet Mae Clark Kerr Swenson on February 11, 1984, at St. Paul’s

• He died on February 11, 2003, 11 days after downsizing from a large Durham, NH farmhouse to a one-floor condominium and 3 days before Valentine’s Day.

PA Court House for a lawsuit against Swenson Granite & contractor for pieces falling off the building.

There was a lawsuit against a building contractor and at least one subcontractor, The Swenson Granite Company, regarding granite slabs on a tall building and that were part of the new construction and were falling off. Opposing counsel subpoenaed David, who represented SGW. He appeared in the PA courtroom in his usual attire, with shined leather working boots, a clean and ironed cotton shirt and pants, and a fresh shave. Not interested in wearing a suit. The attorney did not do his homework and thought he could impeach David’s character, honesty, testimony, and expert opinion. The gauntlet was thrown.

 The attorney admitted defeat at this point and David would laugh and laugh and laugh at the memories

The most important part of his life was Harriet.

One Sunday, when singing in the St. Paul’s Church choir in Concord, NH, David looked up and caught the eye of Harriet, who was in the congregation. They were smitten. I am surprised we all did not hear the Heavens open then. She was an artist and writer who was widowed at 42 and was the mother of three adult children. She had moved to Contoocook, from MA to be near her sister, Mary Ella Cluff. Harriet worked at St. Paul’s Church and would talk about the handsome parishioner who dropped by the office with increasing frequency after they first saw each other on Sundays. Like two stunned birds, they were slow to take the next steps.  Harriet bravely offered to interview David for the NH Magazine, where she wrote a column about NH artists and interesting landmarks. She packed a 7-course picnic lunch and off they went in David’s old gray Peugeot to Rattlesnake Hill, where David could share his favorite place where he would cut granite stone with retired police chief Walter Carlson. Amazingly, the battered Peugeot car made it up the steep hill. 

David, an old-fashioned gentleman, had to reciprocate, so he invited Mom to Rye, either then or for subsequent dates. He knew the beach was one of her favorite places to be, so he scored on this one. Everyone noticed their great care for each other, complete with modest PDAs. Two very independent people who had already navigated challenging times in their lives and felt blessed to find true love.  David married Harriet Mae Clark Kerr Swenson on February ______, 1984, at St. Paul’s Church. They were the last couple to marry there before the church burned to the ground in April 1984. Theirs was a love story for the ages, as all who saw them would admit. 

David and Harriet lived in Contoocook, in the old Victorian house Harriet had bought, and then in Canterbury for 10 years, where they were continually active in community events, including acting in the Gilbert & Sullivan presentations. David even wore make-up with his costume. He and mom continued to make great friends as they renovated their country house. They then moved to a farmhouse in Durham so Harriet could live near the ocean, a lifelong dream. David honored Harriet’s wish to own a house next to the ocean after he died but unfortunate family circumstances canceled this dream.

Harriet encouraged David to adopt a dog, as he admitted he had wanted to do since childhood. Cecil, a rescue dog with alleged Rhodesian Ridgeback DNA, was a fixture in David’s successive blue pick-up trucks. When David read his newspaper in the truck, Cecil curled up on the seat next to him. Cecil rarely seemed to respond perfectly to David’s commands, but it did not matter. Mom’s cats held David in disdain as they used his slippers inappropriately. He would utter his usual “Good Grief!” and immediately leave the scene. If he were a swearing man, the response could have been quite ugly.

Harriet published a book chronicling their lies during David’s last illness using her poetic prowess and narrative writing skills. The book was a mélange of commentary, vignettes and reflections on love, life, and death. The book is entitled “About the House” Contact Svati Narula if you are interested in purchasing a copy.

David and Harriet had five grandchildren, Ian, Steven, Kayley, Leah, and Jayne. We all still reminisce about the happy days we spent at “Grandpa’s Beach House” in Rye each summer. David happily filled the back of his blue pick-up truck with children, boogie boards, towels, beach chairs, lunch, and accoutrements, and sometimes a few adults. With the tailgate sometimes down, he would slowly make the short drive to Jenness Beach. Sometimes he stayed with the group and sometimes he did not. He taught family how to body surf, although only a few caught on.

Back at the house, if Mom and others were cooking elaborate meals, David would quietly clean the kitchen. He especially enjoyed washing the dishes and told childhood stories of family singing while cleaning up. David’s funeral that took place in Dover, NH, but many Washington relatives were sadly unable to attend due to an unusually severe blizzard. One of his three nephews (Guy) read faxes from some of David’s friends around the world. Harriet was heartbroken until she died 16 years later, on August 23, 2019.

My recollections of David and mom are rarely of either of them alone since they met each other and were married for 19 years. His nieces and nephews can attest to his antics as a bachelor when he accompanied nephews on vacations out West and had other adventures.

Mom kept David’s holiday cards, which he usually signed “Your loving husband, David.” He always seemed happy to be able to say this. I will always remember Harriet & David as two independent and wonderful people who found each other after spending half their lives elsewhere and who chose to commit to each other for the rest of their lives, however long or short a time it would be.

In my 70’s I developed a couple mannerisms I’d seen frequently in both Omar and my father at that age.  One gesture seemed to indicate they were “refreshing” their mind and about to embark on a new thought.  They would clap an open hand over the eyebrows and pull it down over face & chin.  I expect younger generations will also be surprised by latent ancestral traits emerging in them.  As a teenager, I began to think of traits I might not share with family.  Ever since, awareness of differences and similarities crop up from time to time.  

One distinctive trait can be speech (accent, timbre, & delivery). I was amazed in my 30s when a total stranger approached me in a crowded ferry parking lot and exclaimed, “You must be Steve Swenson’s brother; I could tell as soon as I heard your voice!”  That happened in Anacortes, WA, 300 miles from where he and my brother had become friends, and 3,000 mi from NH.

 As an impatient youth, I remember my father repeatedly insisting I carefully “read the directions provided”!  Several decades later, after cautioning my children in the same manner, I realized I’ve shared the same evolving “practice-preach” behavior with my dad.  

We often adopt behaviors contrary to those of our parents.  Grampa Omar seems to have been in the habit of arriving just in the nick of time.  On many a business trip to Boston, my dad would wait impatiently to drive him down to the station, where he would anxiously watch Omar literally catch the train on the run as it pulled out of Concord.  My father always made sure to arrive anywhere in plenty of time, whereas my brother, myself, & daughter Sarah all tend to pack as much as possible into each day.

When studying architecture at MIT, Omar’s design for a summer cottage won a prize.  He later built it for himself on the shore of Long Pond near Concord.  When that pond was designated a reservoir, he moved it to the SE shore of Lake Sunapee.  He disassembled it, waited for solid ice on the lake, slid it to the end of Long Pond, loaded it there onto flat cars,  and unloaded it on the S. end of Lake Sunapee (at Newbury).  From there, it was sledged up on the ice to its current location and reassembled at the bottom of a fairly steep bank.  I remember the fieldstone fireplace, bear rug, no insulation, wood stove (mom did not relish her kitchen detail there), water from a spring, ice house, a defunct tennis court, and old tennis racquets in the bedrooms -used as bat swatters.

 Several Swensons likely exhibit the stereotypical Scandinavian trait of stubbornness.  One of my elderly relatives rode his bicycle regularly in Falkenburg, Sweden.  His granddaughter once suggested that, for his own safety, he really should signal before turning.  His response:  “I don’t need to do that; everyone around here knows where I’m going”!

I am writing a few recollections of The Swensons, from a very young age at the time. Three descriptive words that come to mind are: Unity, Place, and Values.

It is unusual that three brothers could carry on a business together successfully. However, Omar, Arthur, and Guy Swenson did. I don't remember a critical word toward the others by my parents. It may have helped that each had separate responsibilities within the Company.

I think the family members genuinely enjoyed each other, and looked forward to events like Thanksgiving dinners at 111 Center Street in Concord, or in Wayland. It seemed we were constantly visiting each other, whether going to Uncle Walter and Auntie Bess's house on Lime Street in Boston, around doctor's appointments or Harvard-Dartmouth games, or, in my case, visiting Aunts and Uncles in Concord on a Sunday. I remember that John Swenson, a Dartmouth classmate of cousin Bill Sumner, 27 years ahead of me at Dartmouth, would stop by my dorm to say hello when he was in Hanover.

There was singing at any Swenson gathering. My Dad and his siblings had been known as "The Singing Swensons," when young in Concord, and would lead.

The singing would continue in summers on Straw's Point, where Uncle Arthur and Aunt Katharine's house was next to ours, separated by a large lawn. On many Saturday nights, the Family, often including Auntie Bess, would gather for a lobster dinner, followed by singing around the piano. I was included, and loved it, staying up past my bedtime. I still remember the songs, many of World War I vintage: "Till We Meet Again", "There's a Long Long Trail A-Winding", "Keep the Home Fires Burning", "After the Ball", "It's a Long Long Way to Tipperary", and "Over There". The group took great delight in singing "K-K-K-Katie", a good-natured spoof for Aunt Katharine.

In regard to Place, the Swensons then knew who they were, leaders in Concord, New Hampshire, and active in its politics, civic affairs, and religion. The Granite Company was a major taxpayer and employer. This was never expressed with arrogance, but as a duty. We were on top, albeit in a small place, but had the obligation to help others. The three brothers took great delight in, and supported, workers' children, who waited to grow beyond their parents' work at the company. I remember one who went to Penn and became a MD. Perhaps, it was more similar to the U.K. or Europe than to much of America, but we still all benefit from our forebears caring for others. I certainly have.

The Values were also part of this. John Swenson successfully ran for N.H. State Senator as "Honest John" Swenson, and I expect he was. Swenson Granite grew by meeting commitments, and being honest. We all benefited from the respect gained by our forebears, who were decent, and honest with others.

Many thanks to Malcolm for sharing the above, and happy birthday! I hope at least a few of you will come prepared to sing some of those WWI-era songs in August

Greetings,

Whitney and I really enjoyed meeting and lunching today with Leslie Gerald Swenson and his wife, Arlene, and their sons and spouses: 

Tom and Deborah Swenson

Jim and Lori Swenson (assume she changed her name but don't know)

(Jerry insisted on taking our check.)

Jerry has a Swenson look, with white hair and similar build to other Swenson men.  But, he has brown eyes!  They are all nice people.  It took a few minutes to break the ice.  He worked for AT&T, and moved around the US Midwest and also to Seoul.  His favorite city is Hong Kong.  He was actually raised around Chicago and his parents (Grandpa's cousin, Leslie Gerald Sr.) were married in Michigan.  Kansas is an adopted home. 

Jerry and Arlene had six children.  Peter, the youngest, died of complications of diabetes in 2004.  None of the six have children, except one daughter living in KC, who has 2 children from a first marriage and 1 from a second marriage.  Her daughter just had a child, which makes Jerry a Great-Granddad in 2011.  They had photos of the new baby boy:  Peter Weston Brooks, named after his Great-uncle who died.  The daughter with a new grandchild, who is Jane Krieger, was off in Atlanta visiting the baby, if I recall.  Their other daughter, Margaret Fowler, lives in Michigan.  She is married as her name indicates. 

There are no male Swensons from Jerry's family.  Tom and Jim, and their brother, William, who lives in Oregon, have no children even though all three are married.  Peter died at 41 and was never married.

Arlene has the beginnings of Alzheimer's, Jerry said at the end, but she was pleasant and followed the conversation. 

Jim (and here I'm trying to get the right names with the right son) went to Stanford Law School and practices with a Kansas City firm.  His wife is having or had a career with Sprint, and traveled in the US a lot.  They were only married in the late 1990's. Tom is a civil engineer.  His wife is an office manager.

Jim and Tom travel fairly often and take advantage of Kansas City ballet and such.  The lawyer, Jim, (I hope that's the right one) and Lori have visited Vermont and in fact were married on the Cape.  They.are planning a trip to NH and north. Uncle Andy -  I asked them to get in touch with you in NH but explained that if everyone is well, you might want them to come by for a drink or meet them somewhere.  The expectations are low, so you are under no obligation.  They might drive through Rye as we encouraged them to do that.  May I give them your email address?  I think you would enjoy Jim particularly as he has had a law career and seems quite pleasant and forthcoming.  She was also pretty engaging.

Aunt Betty - I referred them to you for questions I can't answer.  They gave us a copy of a family tree showing the descendants of Sven Johan Nilsson, a bit later than yours.  Whit filled in new people on their copy.  Jerry would enjoy a copy of your tree, which begins a generation earlier.

Whit and I had a great time.

Love,

Susan

PS - As you might know, their family never spoke Swedish, just English.