A child vulnerable, innocent and poor, enters a new world, unable to speak the language except in whimpers and signs.  Her name was Elsa, and her story begins here the story of Jim Carlson, longtime resident of Victoria, Minnesota.
"My mother was just a child when she was shipped here from Sweden with a tag around her neck," said Jim.
"She arrived at Ellis Island with an older brother -- I believe he was 18 -- who went off in another direction after they landed.  Elsa was alone and she couldn't speak English.  Her mother was a poor widow who had received a letter asking if Elsa could come to the United States to replace a cousin who had died.  The cousin was 12 years old and so was my mother.  Can you imagine a child being shipped so far away from her home to replace another child who had died?"
It is the first story that rolls out of Jim, a story he's carried with him for 80 years now and is still vivid in the retell-ing.  A mother's story becomes a son's story.  A mother's journey gives identity.
Elsa grew up to be a nurse and came to know Ivar Carlson, a carpenter who had also been born in Sweden.  They married in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and had three children. 
It's a long story made short so that the son's story can be told.  His includes, among other things, being a Marine during World War II, working as a Minneapolis Firefighter for 40 years, and constructing miniature stave churches.
The son's story includes a beautiful wife named Barbara Ekse.  Barbara's chapter includes, among other things, her induction into the Athletic Hall of Fame at Augsburg College, her oil painting for an interior design studio, and her joyful anticipation of another family gathering for Christmas, 2004.
The son's story reveals how Elsa's life was blessed in America as she became the matriarch of a close knit family.  When she died at the age of 93, she had lived to see and know her children's children.

Jim Carlson, son of Elsa and Ivar, was born in Minneapolis on August 9th, 1924.  His childhood was that of a normal youngster growing up during the Depression along with everybody else.
He attended Roosevelt High School, graduated in 1942, and then joined the United States Marine Corps.  The exact date is on the tip of his tongue.  It was January 27th, 1943. 
"At that time it was the culture to enter the service," he explained.  "My friend and I went down to the federal court house and the first guy that pulled us in was a Navy guy.  Then down the hall I saw a guy in a nicer uniform so we signed up for the Marines.  I got shipped by train that evening to boot camp in San Diego, California.  My friend got shipped out the next day and we didn't see each other for the next three years."
Was Marine boot camp tough?  "It was, but when you're young you're pretty resilient and can do what you're told."
Jim attended radio school at Jackson-ville, Florida, and served in the front lines of the Second Marine Division, "a ground Marine, not airborne."  He was a forward observer for direct air support.  Working with his colonel on the front lines, he directed aircraft to a specific target for bombing and strafing.  Jim explained
that aircraft was used when the fighting required more than grenades and rifle fire.
Pressed for more details about serv-ing as a Marine, Jim said he was forced to abandon ship twice during the war.  "The first was while we were training for the invasion on Saipan in the Marianna Islands, and also on Tinian, from where the Enola Gay took off.  These islands gave us access to Japan," he said.
While on Saipan, Jim was awarded the Bronze Star for heroic action.
"On Easter Sunday, 1945, on the way to Okinawa, our ship got hit by a kamikaze and we had to go overboard.  I floated around for hours with 20 to 25 men in a landing craft, which is a sort of life boat, until we were picked up ... and so we never landed on Okinawa."
"Prior to this we were making prac-tice landings in Hawaii when a major explosion occurred on our LST," said Jim, who replied that LST stands for Landing Ship Tank. 
"Our unit was decimated and 162 men died.  I was burned and spent five days in the hospital.  I still had bandages on my back when we headed for Saipan.  When back on Saipan waiting for the invasion of Japan, a lieutenant came to us and read us a report -- it was August of 1945 -- about a bomb being dropped on Hiroshima.  It led to the end of the war."
Click here to continue "A Son's Story."