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FOREFATHERS


The Swedish
The name "Fogelberg" is Swedish - it's derived from the original "Vogelberg", meaning "Mountain Bird".
Dan's paternal great-grandfather, Peter Fogelberg, was a carpenter in Sweden. He and his wife Hannah had four children: Otto, Axel, Vanus, and Jennie. Otto and his wife Minnie had one son, here in America: Lawrence Peter Fogelberg.

The Irish
Dan's maternal great-grandfather on his grandfather's side, Daniel Irvine and his wife (name unknown) had two children, Margaret Young and Daniel.

The Scottish (Clan MacGregor)
Dan's maternal great-grandfather on his grandmother's side, Adam Leckie and his wife Mary Soeden had seven children: Mary, Adam, Tom, Alex, Agnes Meekle, Josephine, and George.

Dan's grandparents, Daniel Irvine and Agnes Meekle Leckie, had three children: Daniela (died at nine months), Adam Daniel, and Margaret Young. They came to America when Margaret was two years old.

Lawrence Peter Fogelberg and Margaret Young Irvine had three fine sons: Marc Lawrence, Peter Kent, and Daniel Grayling. Daniel was married three times: to Maggie, Anastasia, and finally, Jean. Peter is married, and Marc and his wife have four children. Names are omitted here to respect their privacy.



A young Peter Fogelberg
Sweden



An older Peter Fogelberg in his shop, working on carriages.
Sweden



The Leckies
Scotland


"Forefathers" by Dan Fogelberg

They came from Scandinavia, the land of midnight sun
And crossed the North Atlantic when this century was young
They'd heard that in America every man was free
To live the way he chose to live and be who he could be

Some of them were farmers there and tilled the frozen soil
But all they got was poverty for all their earnest toil
They say one was a sailor who sailed the wide world round
Made home port, got drunk one night, walked off the pier and drowned

My mother was of Scottish blood, it's there that she was born
They brought her to America in 1924
They left behind the highlands and the heather-covered hills
And came to find America with broad expectant dreams and iron wills

My granddad worked the steel mills of central Illinois
His daughter was his jewel, his son was just his boy
For thirty years he worked the mills and stoked the coke-fed fires
And looked toward the day when he'd at last turn 65 and could retire

And the sons become the fathers and their daughters will be wives
As the torch is passed from hand to hand
And we struggle through our lives
Though the generations wander, the lineage survives
And all of us, from dust to dust, we all become forefathers by and by




The woman and the man were wed just after the war
And they settled in this river town and three fine sons she bore
One became a lawyer and one fine pictures drew
And one became this lonely soul who sits here now
And sings this song to you

And the sons become the fathers and their daughters will be wives
As the torch is passed from hand to hand
And we struggle through our lives
Though the generations wander, the lineage survives
And all of us, from dust to dust, we all become forefathers by and by
By and by, by and by.....
"Leader Of The Band" by Dan Fogelberg

An only child alone and wild, a cabinet maker's son
His hands were meant for different work
And his heart was known to none
He left his home and went his lone and solitary way
And he gave to me a gift I know I never can repay



A quiet man of music denied a simpler fate
He tried to be a soldier once, but his music wouldn't wait
He earned his love through discipline-- a thundering, velvet hand
His gentle means of sculpting souls took me years to understand

The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band

My brothers' lives were different for they heard another call
One went to Chicago and the other to St Paul
And I'm in Colorado when I'm not in some hotel
Living out this life I've chose and have come to know so well



I thank you for the music and your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom when it came my time to go
I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don't think I said "I love you" near enough

The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man
I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band

I am a living legacy to the leader of the band.