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Dreaming in Irish

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Note: I would like to thank Tuigim An Croi Ait (@Tuigim) as I am inspired to write the below because of a conversation we have had, as Gaelige. 

 My great-grandmother, Anna Peterson (nee Thorsen) was a Norwegian immigrant to America at the beginning of the 20th century.  When she arrived, she spoke no English.  Becoming fluent in English was no easy task.  Initially taken on as a domestic in genteel Boston, she was let go from her job and sent 'to be with the other heathen Scandinavians in Minnesota' after an incident on a tram (she accidentally stepped on the skirt of the woman in front of her when boarding, causing the skirt to detach and momentarily forgetting the English for 'I'm sorry' waved her hand frantically and said 'never mind, never mind.' Her employers were not impressed.)

But its fortunate she was cast out to Minnesota as that's where she met my great-grandpa, Hans (Aas) Peterson.  They had three boys.  Although Hans wrote poetry in Norwe…