From his Facebook:
Seeing visuals of how the Trump Administration is treating children being “ processed” at our southern border, takes me back to 1947 when my parents decided to return to Sweden. They decided to send me to live with my grandmother and uncle who lived on the island of Gotland located well out into the Baltic Sea. This would give my parents time to find jobs and housing.
They put me on a train from Goteborg to Kalmar on the opposite coast. They gave me some money and notes with the appropriate Swedish words. The plan was for me to get off the train in Kalmar and then follow the signs directing passengers to the ship to Gotland.
When the train arrived in Kalmar, I got off and started looking for the signs with Gotland on them. But, I could not find them. Clearly, I was in trouble.
Within minutes, a young lady approached and asked me where I was going. Fortunately, she understood English and informed me that the ship to Gotland was not in service. The season for summer travel had just concluded.
The young lady identified herself as a member of the Police Department and that she would help me.
The only ships to Gotland were in service in Stockholm and that was some distance up the coast and the next ship left the following afternoon. The Police Community Officer put me up in a hotel room and brought in a huge smorgasbord. This was all paid for by the public.
I tried to be as helpful as I could in supplying the names of my relatives. However, I did not have their phone numbers nor even knew if they had phones. My mother’s maiden name was Magnuson and trying to track down my relatives with this popular name was a challenge. Before I went to sleep, that wonderful Officer said they had located my uncle and all was well.
The next morning, I was escorted to the train to Stockholm, greeted by the conductor and led to my seat. When we arrived in Stockholm, the conductor led me off the train and into the service of a Stockholm Police officer. He had a wonderful sense of humor which I so much appreciated as we went to the ship.
Once there, a ship’s officer greeted me and escorted me to my small cabin and helped me prepare for the overnight journey.
Early the next morning, the ship put into the port of Visby and there I could see my wonderful brother, Lars, waving and pointing to my relatives whom I had never met.
What an absolutely joyous occasion.
Here I am some 70 years later with such pleasant and warm memories all due to marvelous public servants who knew the power of love and kindness.
Why can we not treat the children on our southern border with more compassion After all, they only seek a better life.
Is that not what the American Dream is about?