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| Book by Harold Igo. |
Some years ago I found a packet of 13 letters amongst my Grandmothers papers all tied together with green string, not red ribbon as so many love letters are wrapped in and they were tucked into an old leather suitcase. They were postmarked from 1924 and were all signed by a gentleman named Harold Igo. Every letter closed in the same manner; "I am, Harold". It caught my eye. I almost hesitate to even call them love letters as they are in a way... but at the same time not. An intriguing peek into another time. My Grandmother, Signe Widestrand, was new in the United States having emigrated from Sweden by herself. The letters are an insight into the personality of this man and the spirit of exploration and adventure that this time period so embraced. I'm actually rather surprised that they didn't get together in the end.
"If I may say that I love you, Signe, you may regard it as an extravaganza and I am sensible
enough to know that time alone will tell whether we are meant for each other. But in the meantime
can't you regard me as your lover pro tem, your Lochinvar-in-waiting? It would be pleasant to think of me in that way."
When Grandmother first came to this country she was a governess to a wealthy family in Youngstown, Ohio. I know that Harold was a journalist for a local newspaper there. I was surprised to learn that she had moved to Pittsburgh, PA as of this letter. He says he misses her and will only be able to see her once a week as the newspaper published 3 editions a day and a Sunday paper. He speaks of his dream " to marry a real woman who can be a real companion as well as a mother to his children and have a little home of his own that shall be a little art center in an aesthetic wilderness."
He speaks of good books, paintings and music. He wants to write a book so that he can be financially independent so that he could travel to the four corners of the world "in search of the story that has never been in print. Can you help me share this vision? Is it too much to ask?" He was drawn to her spirit, "A girl who can come clear across the world hungering for a more abundant life is a girl after my own heart."
So you may ask what is synchronistic about this story so far? Well, I recently moved to Ohio in a rather round-about-way, never even considered it really. As this blog attests I love to explore and one day I decided to "google" Youngstown to see where it was located. I remembered the letters and thought of Harold. Imagine my surprise when I searched his name and it came up as the author of a series of Ghost stories that had been published by the Yellow Springs News originally in 1943 and then compiled by the Historical society into a book. The town I had been to recently and it's not too far away. So the next time I was in Yellow Springs I stopped at two local bookstores and no one had heard of the book. So undeterred I stopped at the local library and they had a copy in their reference section! It was now out of print. I copied the introduction and discovered another chapter of his life and a picture. He had lived in Yellow Springs for a few years offering informal acting classes. He was married by this time to a woman named Sarah. He wrote a trilogy of plays called Ohio Doom concerned with the industrial revolution and traveled and wrote in South America. In 1949 they moved to Florida where he was a director of a theater group for many years. I found he passed away in 1974. My Grandmother lived to be 93 years old and I never remember her speaking of Harold or of his letters but on her deathbed she called out "Igo."
So why should I find Harold now? Perhaps his ghost called out to me to "look him up". The details help me to piece together my Grandmothers life. She was always rather close mouthed about it. She was an independent, artistic and educated woman ahead of her time. Coming to a new country, the eldest of 10 children and the only one that came to the United States. She traveled the world by herself in dangerous times, spoke 7 languages, wing walked on bi-planes, shot rattlesnakes from horseback and loved art and books and music. She met and married my Grandfather, another Swede, in New York City in 1926. They were from towns 30 miles apart in Sweden.
Interesting the paths our lives take; where we end up living, what we end up doing, and who we meet along the way. A new friend here surprised me with a copy of Harold's book for my birthday a couple of weeks ago. She took note of my quest and ordered the one copy she found online. Thank you to her and I can't help but say thank you to Harold. Perhaps he helped in getting me a copy of his book. I'm just glad my path has enabled me to meet Harold in a synchronistic way at last.
Happy to make your acquaintance Harold.
I am,
Noel
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