Farmer´s daughter
Our father taught us to ride
Ewy tells:
I spent my childhood in the Great Herrestad, a picturesque area in Skåne, where I was born and raised on my parents' large farm. The farm was built in the shape of a square, almost like a fortress. On one side stood the stable and cowshed, with the barn, garage, and store flanking it on either side. Opposite the stable was the main house, a two-story building with a distinctive projecting roof.
The Baltic Sea was just twenty kilometers away, and the fresh coastal wind often howled around us as we played on the farm and in the garden. While I wasn’t particularly spoiled by my parents, I was by my four brothers. Together, we shared a joyful childhood—father, mother, five children, 50 to 60 cows, horses, birds, and all the life that came with farm living. One of my fondest memories is how our father taught us to ride.
Ewy at age 13, on horse along with her eldest brother, Harry, in front of her father's farm in Skåne (photo from Fahrt durch die Hölle, Copress-Verlag München 1963)
We Had a Happy Time Together
When I was seven years old, I started school in our village, and a few years later, I continued at the secondary school in a nearby city. During the war, we had to give up our horses, which saddened me deeply. Noticing this, my father arranged for me to ride young horses instead. For work on the fields, he purchased tractors and modern machinery.
Although the war passed Sweden without much direct impact, its presence was felt. But when peace finally returned to Europe, it brought relief and joy. Even though we hadn’t experienced the worst of the troubled times, our parents’ happiness spread to us children, and life regained its brightness.
Family: Ewy, brothers, mother, and father (Photo from Fahrt durch die Hölle, Copress-Verlag München, 1963)
1949 Education at Blue Star
- After completing my lower school certificate, my father sent me to an agricultural school, where I gained some knowledge about large-scale rational animal husbandry—something that fascinated me greatly. My parents had no objections when I later began working as an assistant to our local veterinarian, Ernst Palsson.
Dr. Palsson's district was vast and included the area around our home. I accompanied him in all kinds of weather, meeting many farmers and becoming involved in their lives. I didn’t just learn about caring for their cattle but also about the challenges and dynamics of their families.
Swedish Blue Star has a societal mission to care for animals during crises, disasters, disease outbreaks, and other situations that may affect their well-being. (Source: Ewy's private archives).
My father bought me a
Mercedes 170 S
In the end, my employer suggested that I study veterinary medicine for two terms and complete a lower assistant exam. With some apprehension, my mother accompanied me to Ystad, where I boarded a train to Stockholm. I was about to stand on my own for an entire year.
Thankfully, my parents had arranged a nice room for me with family friends, giving me a comfortable place to call home.
The two semesters were incredibly interesting, and I successfully passed the exam. With a diploma as a "veterinary assistant" in hand, I proudly returned home.
Veterinarian Palsson welcomed me back with open arms and assigned me a specific area within his district. Since the early 1950s, artificial insemination of cows had become more common, and it was part of Dr. Palsson’s responsibilities to oversee this work. We assistants were tasked with carrying it out in our respective areas. My job was made easier by the fact that I already knew many of the farms I was to visit.
One essential tool for my profession was a reliable car. My father, showing incredible generosity, reached deep into his pocket and bought me a Mercedes 170 S.
Twelve Years as a Veterinary Assistant
Photo from 1962
After obtaining my driver’s license in Stockholm, I proudly drove around in my nice car, mostly on gravel roads, visiting distant homesteads.
Farmers would call veterinary Palsson to request assistance, and we would receive our "day schedule" along with a thermos of semen from carefully selected bulls.The contents had to be kept below 5°C to remain viable, so every morning the thermos containers were carefully prepared, and we had to leave immediately.
My three colleagues and I often traveled between 150 and 200 kilometers daily, almost exclusively on gravel roads or across fields. Over time, I became good friends with many of the farmers, who usually welcomed me as an old acquaintance. I was often offered coffee, dinner, or tea with pastries. Before long, I knew a great deal about the families I visited.
In addition to my work in the barn, I patiently listened to their stories, offered comfort when children were unwell or struggling in school, and shared in their joy when, for example, a second son was born. These interactions were meaningful but time-consuming. I didn’t want to be impolite by leaving too quickly, but I also valued having my evenings free.
Ewy also owned a Kaiser
I had to step on the gas and drive quickly from one farm to the next. After two years, I had become so skilled that, despite all the interruptions at the farms, I usually managed to finish my work two hours faster than my colleagues.
During that time, I drove over 220,000 kilometers on Swedish country roads with my father’s Mercedes. Eventually, he allowed me to sell the car and buy a new one, provided I paid the difference myself. While I couldn’t afford another Mercedes, I had enough money for a Fiat 1100.
I then adopted a new system: I never drove a car for more than 50,000 kilometers. This way, I avoided repairs, could sell the old car at a favorable price, and put the money toward a new one.
The text is literally from Ewy Rosqvist’s book "Fart från början till slut," Berghs Förlag AB, 1963.
Ewy owned a Kaiser Henry J Corsair de Luxe, model year 1952,
a short period during 1953.
The cars followed each other in rapid succession. After the Mercedes 170 S came the Fiat 1100, followed by another Fiat, a Kaiser, two Saabs, a Volkswagen, and finally a Volvo PV—a slightly heavier car. By then, I had started to earn a pretty decent income.
www.ewyrosqvist.com