Return to Norway - 1967

We were waiting with family outside the depot of the Great Northern Railroad in Williston, North Dakota, the town where Karen Lund and I were married the day before. The January temperature had dropped to ten degrees below zero during the night, and icy clouds billowed from our lungs with each breath as we shivered in the cold, gray dawn.

My parents, in the company of my brother and his wife, had traveled by train from Washington State, bringing my grandfather with them. Now it was time for them to board the Empire Builder for the long trip back. Just days away from John Nickoli’s eighty-seventh birthday, the old fishsherman-turned-farmer was about to ride the same rails that had carried him to the Pacific Northwest when he emigrated from Norway in 1901.

Later in the afternoon, Karen and I would board an eastbound train to Minneapolis where we would catch a flight to Montego Bay for our honeymoon. From Jamaica, we would fly to England for my next assignment as a Flight Surgeon at a USAF hospital in South Ruislip on the outskirts of London.

Amidst a flurry of hugs and farewells, a conductor sounded his last “all aboard.” As my grandfather prepared to climb the stairs to the Pullman car, I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Karen and I plan to visit Norway this summer. If you can get to England, we will take you with us.” It was more of a gesture than a promise, and he seemed to understand. For a moment, there was no visible response, just thoughtful silence. We both knew the obstacles. After a long pause, he said, “Yes, that would sure be nice.”

A few months later, we received a letter from my father saying they had purchased a ticket. My grandfather would fly from Seattle to London in June to join us on a trip to the island where he was born, in the land of the midnight sun.