When you were a child, did you ever believe that you were related to somebody famous? I confess that I did. I thought my grandfather was Hans Christian Andersen, an author whose stories enchanted me. I can’t pick a favorite. The Princess and the Pea, The Ugly Duckling, Thumbelina, The Little Mermaid, The Emperor’s New Clothes, The Wild Swans, The Nightingale, The Snow Queen, The Red Shoes, and The Little Match Girl are just a few I've loved.
I don’t know when I first began believing that Grandpa was the famous storyteller, but my child’s logic put all the clues together and came to that conclusion.
- They were both Danish.
- They were both named Hans.
- Although my grandpa’s name was Hans Nielsen, I thought maybe he was using an alias to hide from his fans. We had lots of relatives named Andersen (my grandmother’s maiden name) and my uncle’s name was Christiansen. It all added up!
- My grandpa told me stories. I knew he’d traveled alone on his long journey to the U.S. from Denmark as a young man, and my mother once told me what a great swimmer he was. So when he showed me on our globe the route he took when he swam from Copenhagen to New York, even pointing out where the pirates tried to capture him and where the shark attacked, I believed his tale of adventure. Who wouldn’t?
I don’t know exactly when I realized that he wasn’t the famous Hans. Honestly, even though Grandpa Hans looked nothing like the drawings and statues of Hans Christian Andersen, I believe they shared a dedication to telling stories deep within their souls. I hope I have a little of it stashed within my soul as well.
Here is a picture of my grandfather with his sister Marie.
