Swede Hollow: a Novel by Ola Larsmo

Author:Ola Larsmo [Larsmo, Ola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC019000 Fiction / Literary, FIC014000 Fiction / Historical, FIC051000 Fiction / Cultural Heritage
Publisher: University of Minnesota Press
Published: 2019-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

From the beginning Inga had made it clear that the wedding was not to be anything out of the ordinary, thereby making it sound as if the couple could have celebrated in grand style if they’d chosen to do so. The ceremony itself would take place in the Swedish Lutheran Church at Eighth Street and Maria Avenue immediately following the regular Sunday service. That seemed most suitable since no one had to go to work on Sunday, and there wouldn’t be any additional expenses. Inga had already spoken to Pastor Sandstrom, who had agreed to marry them. Then the couple would host a reception with coffee and cake at their home. And that would be that.

Most people who lived in the Hollow were not big churchgoers. Carpenter Nilsson’s family and a few others attended the First Swedish Baptist Church; an equal number of the Swedish families went to the Swedish Lutheran Church, although not every Sunday. The Italian families were more faithful about attending church, going to St. John’s Catholic Church on Fifth Street. At first some of the Irish also went to St. John’s, but later they preferred to walk all the way to Assumption Church on Seventh Street, where the congregation was predominantly Irish and the priest also spoke Irish.

Otherwise there was little sign of any church activities within the Hollow, except when members of the Scandinavian Salvation Army on Minnehaha Street would come to visit. Then people would gather to listen to the music. A group of little Irish boys, led by the younger Flaherty brother, would often show up to shout “Soupers!” at the Salvation Army representatives. The boys would throw stones and try to puncture the big bass drum that one of the male soldiers carried in front of his sizable stomach. Finally Leonard and some of the older boys would chase them away.

On this particular morning folks emerged from their houses well before the service was to begin at ten o’clock. The bells were ringing at the Swedish Lutheran Church, the sound clearly audible through the branches of the deciduous trees, bare of leaves now that autumn had arrived. In the summertime the groves of trees on the steep slope hid the view of the Hollow from the street above. Most of the people now headed in long lines for the stairs up to Seventh Street were wearing the best clothes they owned. Gone were the gray or dark-blue work jackets, gone were the faded aprons that made up their everyday attire. Today many of the men wore dark jackets and waistcoats. Those who didn’t have any Sunday clothes had at least made the effort to put on a white shirt. Most of the women wore dark dresses and shawls. Walking with her family at the very back of the line, Ellen couldn’t help thinking that it looked more like they were on their way to a funeral rather than a wedding. She tried over and over to erase this thought from her mind, the way she might swat at a pesky fly, but it kept coming back.

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