Memories of Levida Larsson

by her granddaughter Sally (Shoop) Hahn

Levida Larson, my “Mormor,” is the only grandparent I ever knew and she died when I was 16.  How I wish I’d asked her more about her life when she was alive.  She was a wonderful person and a major presence during the first 10 years of my life, before my father married my stepmother. 

Levida Hübinette-Larsson

My brother was 10 when I was born and has some memories of our Mormor from his early childhood.  He particularly remembers, as I do too, her and my mother conversing with one another in Swedish, especially when they didn’t want us children to know what they were talking about.  We both also remember that she was a wonderful cook and baker.  She baked wonderful breads, but I especially loved the Swedish pancakes she made. 

Our grandfather died in 1934 and at some point, my brother thinks after she returned from a trip to Sweden, she stayed with our family.  When she came back from Sweden she brought my brothers little spoons (with a crown on the end and six rings on each side) with their initials engraved on the back.  I don’t know if she had an idea that another child would be arriving in a few years or not, but I, too, have the same spoon (without the initials engraved). 

                                       Levida in the background and her grandchildren Dan, Bob and Sally Shoop.

When I was a young child, Mormor would visit in our home frequently.  My mother and I would also visit her.  At the time, she was a caregiver for a family named Granstrom (sp?) and we would visit her in their home in Joliet.  Mr. Granstrom was quite a craftsman and made many wooden carvings; I still have a carving of a grizzly bear that he made for us.
We also often visited the relatives in the area:  Aunt Ellen, Mormor’s sister, and Hildegarde, my mother’s cousin and Ellen’s daughter, and Genevieve Johnson, my mother’s cousin, are the ones I remember the most, but there were others as well.   

After our mother died, when I was eight, Mormor came and stayed in our home for almost a year.  It must have been so difficult for her but I am sure my father was very grateful for her help.  One summer after my mother died, she took me to a guest house on Lake Geneva for a week—just the two of us.  It was a wonderful time for me.  When my father remarried, Mormor went to California to stay with my Uncle Jack Larson for a time.  She loved the warm California weather and sent back pictures of herself standing beside beautiful flowers in the winter.  Eventually she came back to Illinois and once again became a caregiver in other people’s homes.  I remember visiting her in a very large home where she was staying in Joliet when I was about 15.  She made Swedish pancakes for me. 

Mormor was obviously a wonderful correspondent as is evidenced by the letters she wrote to her relatives in Sweden—letters that were saved and later translated into English, thanks to Lars.  I have learned so much about my grandmother from these letters and it is so obvious that not only do I remember her as a warm, caring person, but that is the way she treated everyone.  It was such a thrill for me to be able to travel to Sweden in the summer of 2005 and see the area where my grandmother grew up, meet her niece and nephew and their families, and also meet some of her husband’s family and see the very home my grandfather grew up in. 

I pray that I can grow old with as much grace and dignity as my grandmother did.  I don’t think she had an easy life and yet she was always willing to help others.  Even though I knew her for only 16 years, I know she was wonderful in every way!