There's always been this big mystery in my life and it's bugged the heck out of me for I don't know how long.

My father's father was an immigrant from Sweden. The story in the family was that when he got to Ellis Island and was asked his name he said, "I am Carl Daniel Y______. I left everything in Sweden including my name. I will be known from now on by an American name."

Well, that's the story. From what I know about what happened on Ellis Island, it's just as likely he said his name in broken Swedish and the clerk changed it to Y_______.

But, what was his name before? That's what I wanted to know. My dad didn't know. It was a family secret. I didn't even know where in Sweden Grandfather came from. Plus, I couldn't ask him as he died three years before I was born.

This weekend I was going through some of the papers my mother saved throughout her life. (Do you know, she saved every letter I wrote to her and my aunt and uncle when I was in the service? I tossed those suckers, quick!) I came across a death certificate for my grandfather's sister, whose last name was also changed to Y______. Seems her father's last name was Petersen and she was from Leksand, Sweden.

I also learned my great grandfathers name was Daniel, which is nice since my "real" name is also Daniel.

Oh, and the 3:33?

Well, strange as it may seem, I've been waking up at 3:33 every morning for the past three days. One of those wide awake, look at the clock and it's 3:33. Maybe it was because I was at home. Maybe it was because I was suddenly busy with the new story, which I don't want to start, but seem to be forcing myself to start.