So I packed two kids, almost four and eight, and eight trunks and a cat and a pressure cooker and hauled it down to Brooklyn onto a freighter on April 10, 1969. Why? I thought the kids would have a better chance growing up in Norway than in the Big Apple.

 

We ran into the only storm in the Atlantic. It took almost a month to cross to Oslo, but we got there in time for Norwegian Independence Day. Did I wonder if we would find a place to live? No. But we did. I had a job, but the guy was wanted by Interpol, so I found another one with mutual funds out of the States, Pierre Salinger being one of the directors.

 

They didn't like mutual funds in Norway, so I got a job with the Norwegian Shipowners' Association, which was hosting INTERTANKO (International Association of Independent Tanker Owners) out of London. I was hired as a secretary, but various duties got taken over by men who made a heck of a lot more money than I did. I was not pleased.

 

The best part of the job was the travel to shipowners' meetings in places like Athens. However, once you've seen one Hilton, you've seen them all, so it was a delight to sneak off when possible and see the sights. I got to do a lot more travel to France and Germany during this period, but I regret I never went to Estonia to see my relatives.

 

One day I read about a teletypist job with Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines. I applied and explained to the HR person that I didn't want that job, but just wanted to introduce myself. A week later the secretary to the president quit because she was pregnant.

 

The HR director called me. He explained that the president was leaving for Miami, but he did want me to interview with him. I suggested 10 minutes later because that's how far it was from the Norwegian Shipowners' Association.

 

Got the job. Gave my two weeks' notice. Started the job with nothing in the world to do, so I revised the filing system. Found therein an advertisement for a marketing job (for a guy) that had never been filled. Since I'd already bugged the marketing director for work to do, he thought (and thought) that it might be a good idea for me to take the job.

 

Six weeks later I told my new boss that I was applying for the job. He took it to the Board of Directors and came back to tell me I had it -- in addition to my job as his secretary. Well, when I asked for two salaries, he laughed and went back to the Board of Directors. We hired a Norwegian and an English secretary, and I got the office three doors down.

 

It was a fabulous job. The president and I never had to have long conversations. For onlookers, it was like watching a tennis match because we read each other's thoughts. I had to do arduous tasks like go to Miami to get on cruises, but I got through it. Whenever he sent me to London, he made sure the car stopped at Harrod's on the way back to the airport so that I could buy cosmetics.

 

It had been such fun in New York to meet people from many countries, and we didn't stop in Oslo. My Estonian uncle Harry lived with us for a while, and when he died, his quarters went to "foreigners" from Hong Kong and Morocco. However, we didn't limit ourselves, so we even had Stein Erik, a writer, staying with us as a commuter between Oslo and the States.

 

Since our little house was situated sort of under Holmenkollen, where they do the Olympic ski jumping, I would come home from the office to discover that the kids were jumping, too.  They started out from the roof of the house and graduated fast to the hill and then to Holmenkollen itself. Luckily, I could never translate from meters to feet. We also had the advantage of Socialized Medicine, so there were never any bruises of consequence.