Actually I did meet the Wibergs long before I knew
they had any connection to my family
A sweet little introduction to the Frieda story
As told by Sven Wickberg.
In this rather unconventional way I entered the first Sunday night Salvation Meeting in my life!
Everything was new: the whole "ritual" with testimonies, address, "prayer meeting"... We watched everything keenly with big bright young eyes.
I had been told (by my parents) to be back home at the latest 9.30 p.m. Since the meeting had not finished at that time the three of us -- a little noisily perhaps -- went down from the platform in the middle of the sermon and left.
From this time on, playing in the Band was our priority. And so I found myself an acting SA bandsman.
But it did not take long until it dawned upon me that sitting on the platform brought with it certain obligations. There was this custom of calling on "anyone" for a testimony. I was scared stiff by the thought that some (idiot) might call on me...
And one Sunday our Corps Officer announced:
Next Sunday we will have the pleasure of listening to Sven Wickberg....
(MY HEART STOPPED!!) -- but no, I soon realized that it wasn't me. He had spoken of some Colonel Sven Wiberg..., and s l o w l y my heart began to beat again. So I must have met this Sven Wiberg once or twice after this, leading a Sunday night meeting at the Stockholm 1,"Templet" as they call it nowadays. If I remember correctly he had a very piercing look under his big eyebrows. When he entered the platform and gave his troops an inspecting glance, I always felt quite sure his glance said: That little one on the cornet over there must give his testimony to-night... |
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So much for Sven Wiberg.
This was in 1945. Many years later, in the middle 1960's, I had a phone call from an American Salvation Army officer by the name of Hugo Wiberg. He was on holiday in Stockholm for a couple of days. I did not know that he was a son of this Sven, and he didn't tell me. He only he told me that he had known my mother, Frieda. We talked for a while and then hung up. I was a bit puzzled, since I did not quite understand what he really wanted. (I found that out later, and that is part of the Frieda story.)
In 1998 I was contacted by Mary Long, Hugo's daughter. She sent me
letters from Frieda to Hugo, and in fact inspired me to make these pages.