(Provided and published here with permission from James Ojerholm, grandson of John Melcher Ojerholm).

Our Trip to Brady

John Melcher Ojerholm

1922

(Transcribed by Julia Ojerholm)

A problem lies before me from which I don’t know how to separate myself; namely, to leave a little account of our pleasant auto trip to and from Brady in McCulloch County. The director for Texas Posten had been kind enough to give me an 8-10 days’ vacation, and when Dr. O. E. Olander soon after that invited me and my whole family a free ride in his room Studebaker to Brady and home again, we accepted this invitation with thankfulness for that kind of trip by train would have cost at least $75 and could never happen. After eight years of uninterrupted work to get a vacation and an opportunity to visit kinsfolk and friends in Brady where we had not been for ten years was valued highly, and the children were jubilant over the prospect of having a whole day’s auto ride. They counted the days, then hours when we should leave.

The trip would begin from Austin at 4 o’clock in the morning on July 25, but so excited were the children that the night before they could not get a wink of sleep and simply waited for permission to get up and dress. Mama had a little sandwich, milk, and coffee ready for the small mouths, but who could be concerned with such material things when one had before him the prospect of a fascinating pleasure trip. Only “bror” (Jamie) who never - not at all - even in the middle of the night turned down food, could think about eating anything now, and long before the appointed time the children sat on the steps and watched for a glimpse of Dr. Olander’s car. There came a pair of lights - now they are coming! No, that wasn’t they. Yes, there they are! No - yes, here they come sure enough. Everyone ran out on the walk where luggage and lunches were already waiting. Baggage fastened, the living load is stored, the motor began to purr, the car moved, and in the early morning, long before the sun had risen, we were on our way toward Brady - sure enough!

The trip went westward to Oak Hill, Cedar Valley, Dripping Springs, toward Johnson City and then to Fredericksburg. The morning air is fresh though it was warm and humid the night before. Sweaters and shawls felt very good, but the editor, who didn’t have as much as a vest under his thin coat, sat there and shook and froze even with a little lap of a quilt to warm his frozen limbs. When he came to Brady, he had a bad cold. It now began to dawn; a low haze that hung over the dale that we saw in front of us a mirage that looked like water, and several could not in the beginning believe it was anything but a big flood that rolled through the dale.

With the break of day came the question “When will we have breakfast?” We had ridden a couple of hours in the fresh morning air, which helped to increase the appetite, and Jamie and Dr. Olander discussed the question of where we should camp. They both agreed that it should be soon, but it meant finding a good place where there was sufficient wood for coffee making, and when we thought we had found such a place, we stopped, jumped out and gathered firewood, and soon the coffee pot stood on the fire, while lunch was brought out and ingredients for a hearty breakfast emerged. The footstep to the car was covered with newspaper instead of a tablecloth and was soon laden with food. Even those of us who hardly touch food in the morning for lack of appetite felt hungry. Oh, how good it tasted here in nature’s big dining room with heaven as a roof and forest and hills for walls. Had anyone ever tasted such good coffee!! Bror was overly satisfied, so was his good friend Dr. Olander, as well as the rest of the group. A banquet at the Driskill Hotel would not have tasted as good as this early breakfast in the forest.

Just as we were finishing our meal the Moffat automobile raced by. Their destination was also Brady as I wrote in Texas Posten. How we packed up in haste so that we would not be far behind, so the car started ahead toward the west. We made good time even if the road wasn’t as smooth and even as in the beginning, and we drove past the Moffats who now in their turn camped for a little lunch. There began to be higher and longer hills, but it didn’t bother the car and chauffeur; it went forward, up hill and back down, but not always precisely the same speed. If the road was rough and uneen, we paid no attention; we were so interested in the panorama that met our eyes that we rarely thought about the road, but when we came from Travis County into Hays, we could not help but notice the well maintained road we had in front of us. The car turned like a top and purred like a satisfied cat when one strokes him on the back, and on the speedometer we read 30-35 mph; that is as fast as we wanted to go. There were hills and foress, with a few cornfields here and there. Strangers who think of Texas as only a big plain should take a tour through this part of the state and would then see something else.

Now the good road had suddenly ended and it begins to be rugged with bumpety-bump. We had come into Blanco County, but after a while the road was better as we approached Johnson City.

Therewith we shall continue another time.

In my last account we had arrived in the town of Brady. It was at twilight and we still had seven miles before mealtime to the children’s Uncle Victor, Aunt Mamie, and cousin Elmer. We asked directions but that was unnecessary; Tullan recognized the way since the year before when she was there in the summer and several times went with Uncle Victor to town. Therefore, “start the car, sir captain or mister chauffeur, start the car.” Now we drive toward the sun, and the following morning we will be seven miles nearer sunrise or see the day’s golden star so much earlier.

After a little while Tullan said, “There is where the Eklund’s live, and soon we will come to A.J. Johnsons, and then it is just a little farther to Uncle Victor’s through the gate. Ahead we see a light, and when the evening in earnest begins to spread its veil over the world, then we have arrived. There stands Uncle Victor just home from town; there is Aunt Mamie, who hour after hour has waited for the company, and Elmer, the son, and not the least charming Kurre the dog, that in his way waved a welcome.

It felt good to get out and in earnest stretch the legs! There were questions and answers about everything, and not the least satisfied was probably our chauffeur, who without relaxing had to sit at the wheel all day long. A little water and a little of the outdoors cooled us a great deal, and soon we were ready, the whole group, to surround the table that really groaned under all the well prepared food which had a smacking consumption in spite of the well filled lunchboxes that so faithfully followed us and served us on our trip. Those who sat at Aunt Mamie’s table understood how she knew how to serve her guests. One can hardly keep from eating though one feels that it is time to stop.

Finally we get up from the meal wherewith we tell about the trip’s adventures and impressions, and then Dr. and Mrs. Olander drove back to Johnson’s place where they will be guests during the visit here while the editor and his family get ready to enjoy a week with brother-in-law and sister-in-law.

There is so much to talk about after many and long years of being apart so one doesn’t know where to begin or stop. Ten years had gone by since we were in the Brady community, and our host then lived in West Sweden instead of East Sweden. There was so much to see, to hear, to ask about, but nature begins, in spite of all the excitement, to take its right. The sandman begins to pull the eyelids, and one or another yawns, though unwillingly, so one does well to see where he can find a corner for a few hours well-needed sleep, when all at once several voices cry out, “A car is coming here; it is surely the doctor’s car. Maybe they forgot something.”

Yes, it was the doctor and his wife and their hosts, Mr. and Mrs. A.J. Johnson, their daughter-in-law and a freezer of ice cream. They had had a party in their home; their son Oscar had been home, but the same night had to go back to Paris. So, after the just-finished hearty supper, we were now in on an ice cream party. Yes, this vacation had started beautifully.

The following are a few excerpts from a few of the other installments:

A trip to Brady was made on Wednesday morning, and not long after coming home dinner was ready. Now we were to sit down to the rich table and eat-eat-eat.

In the morning the children from Austin had a pleasure they had never before had - to ride Elmer’s Gralle. No one had before sat on a horse; the closest they had come was on a bicycle. Now all they had to do was sit up and follow along. Yes, that was true! Julia had cultivated herself to be a horsewoman the year before when she visited Uncle Victor, and Gralle was her only playmate. Now she was a real “cow girl” among the others and could show them how one sits on the horse:

Yes, think how much fund

That, even though it is sunny,

To ride on Gralle in Brady

And if he should run

The laughter rings out

From the children now up in Brady

For hop and gallop

One doesn’t say stop

When he can ride here in Brady.

If I were a poet, then I would tell how it looks when twilight comes in Brady, when chickens and turkeys begin to come to their home in long lines, when the cows’ bells tinkle becomes heard more clearly, the closer the four-footed near the milkhouse, while the calves begin to bleat “baa-baa”, where the pigs chime in with their “off-off”, how the night’s stillness and darkness spreads itself deeper, the farmer’s tasks are finished, the lights begin to shine here and there in the surrounding homes, where the evening descends, and one gets ready to rest after again a day’s toils and troubles. For such a picture I miss my pen and writing. The only thing I can do is to listen while the stars’ quietness wander over their shining path, and I think I hear the home rise in whisper from the children’s evening prayer:

“Gud some hafver barnen kar,

Se till mig some liten ar.”

“God who loves the children dear,

Care for me who little is.”

While over other prayers in slow rustling tones of our old even psalm one hears:

“Sa gar en dag an fran var tid

Och kommer icke mer,

Och an en natt med Herrens frid”

“So a day goes from our time,

And doesn’t come again

And now a night with God’s peace

Until the world sinks down.”

I would go a long way to hear this song sung once again, sung as our boys once sang that song in Austin, or as it would be sung by a well balanced and practiced choir. There is nothing like that Swedish song.

Arriving at the church we find Sunday school soon beginning, and there as in other places one finds classes for all ages. About the sermon there is not a great deal to say, other than it is now over, and then we went to the family John Hansons where we were invited for dinner. Later we bid farewell to West Sweden, its church and folk, and uncertain that we will ever come there again.

Suddenly I woke up and heard as out of a fog “Congratulations on your birthday - Happy Birthday” and when I had rubbed the sleep from my eyes I saw that it was morning, and beside my bed stood mother and daughter with the decorated coffee tray. Yes, so my own mother used to come and congratulate me while I was yet a little boy. Now it was my own daughter who carried the coffee tray and woke me in the way my old mother used to do long, long back in time with “coffee in bed”. So they had not in Brady forgotten the day, my near and dear ones, and the children were not content until they even here with their mother could bring their little birthday presents and their “happy birthday”, whereby a little later the rest of the folks joined in. It is only in childhood and youth that one delights in approaching birthdays, and the older one becomes the less we like the day, and the faster it returns. Now it has caught up with me though I am up in Brady nearly 200 miles from home, and so I became again and year older, but when the birthday breaks as pleasantly as this, then one only wishes to congratulate oneself.

Yes, the years gather

And folks become older,

Even though they live up in Brady,

How time can fly

And the years, though long,

Disappear very quickly in Brady,

For ho and for hey

So it happened to me,

That I became a year older in Brady.

Finally I and my family wish to express the heartiest thanks to kinsfolk and friends who there in Brady did so much for our pleasure during our visit. Also, we wish to express our thanks to Dr. an Mrs. Olander who invited us on such a splendid and free ride in their comfortable Studebaker, nor will we forget Texas Posten’s manager who made it possible to leave the newspaper work, also the “office boy” who gave personal help during our absence. That it was a pleasant vacation one must understand if not other than it has taken me three months to write my travels. I began on August 10, and on November 9 they will be finished.

And with this will I lastly express my thanks to Posten’s readers for their untiring patience.

Now, dear friends,

And all those I know

No more about the trip to Brady

For ho and for hey

A hearty good-bye

When shall we meet again in Brady?