Abstract
The aspirations to reach what was at least in earlier times regarded as the pinnacle of scholarship and prestige in the learned world, that is, to become a professor, seemed to have emerged early in my life. There were few academics in my family. My father was a farm boy who had completed barely some five hundred days of primary schooling in the 1880s. My mother's father had completed the university matriculation examination in 1875 and his two sons, my mother's halfbrothers, attained doctoral degrees, the older in 1927 at the University of Stockholm at the same time and in the same faculty as Gunnar Myrdal. My mother attended the solemn ceremonies in City Hall, when the degrees were conferred. The story she told, painted by her vivid imagination and reading about the occasion in the newspaper, made a deep impression
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