FLY AWAY

HOME

Maggie Myklebust

First published Great Britain 2012 by Summertime Publishing

© Copyright Maggie Myklebust

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN 978-1-904881-73-5

Cover image by Morten AakreDesign by Lemonberry

Disclaimer

This is a true story and in recreating events and conversations from my memories, I have changed some names, dates and details to protect the identity of those involved.

DEDICATIONI dedicate this book to my hero.

Some things are just meant to be.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to give thanks toMormor and Oldemor, for never giving up.Noney and Gaumie, for all their love and generosity.Mom and Dad, I know you love me and I love you too.Mary Lou, us girls have to stick together.My children (all six) and their children, now you know your parents and grandparents are only human.The Jersey Girls, Ellen, Donna and Annie for always being there.My Norwegian Girls, Laila, Ingred and Marita I couldn’t have made it in Norway without you.Anja, for giving me the nudge I needed.Donna, my Canadian neighbor in the Netherlands.Norunn, for my picture.Jo Parfitt, Jane Dean and Lisa Hall, for your knowledge and inspiration. Last but not least, to my faithful companion Mia.

CONTENTS

DedicationAcknowledgementsChapter 1 Eigerøy 1895-1955 1Chapter 2 Jersey Girl 9Chapter 3 My Maiden Voyage 21Chapter 4 Summer In Lawrenceville 27Chapter 5 Girl Meets Boys 37Chapter 6 Girl Meets Fate 55Chapter 7 My Hero 67Chapter 8 Off And Running 73Chapter 9 Learning To Fall 87Chapter 10 Michele 97Chapter 11 Jersey Mamma 109Chapter 12 Rolling With The Punches 121Chapter 13 Starting Over 135Chapter 14 The Great Escape 151Chapter 15 No Going Back 169Chapter 16 Fly Away Home 185Chapter 17 Mixed Blessings 201Chapter 18 Under A Stone 213Chapter 19 Life Goes On 225Chapter 20 A Window Opens 237Chapter 21 Don’t Mess With Texas 249Chapter 22 Going Dutch 263Chapter 23 Our Return To Eigerøy 285About The Author 291

The North Sea

Egersund

Eigerøy bridge

Migaren (The Lake)

Home

MyklebustSkadberg

Midbrød

Eigerøy

Jakobine & Ludvig Skadberg (Married 1918)

Gerd & Trygve Skadberg (Married 1938)

Gerd & Arthur Myklebust (Married 1949)

Ludvig & Mary Myklebust (Married 1957)

Margaret & Tony (Married 1976)

Margaret & Harry Myklebust (Married 1989)

Michele & Mark (Married 2003)

Michael & Lisa (Married 2010)

Melissa & Leif (Married 2005)

Alexander Brian

Jan Christian & Norunn (Married 2008)

Family Tree

Jakobine and Ludvig Skadberg 1918

Ludvig Skadberg 1924

Gerd, Trygve and their son Ludvig 1940Gerd, Trygve and their son Ludvig 1940

Gerd and Arthur 1949

1

CHApTEr 1

EIGErøY 1895-1955

It’s always been acceptable for people all over the world to sell their belongings, pack up their children and leave their homeland for America. After all, America is the land of

opportunity and, as I was told, the greatest country in the world. It was certainly the goal of my family and after years of struggle became a reality. What they didn’t know was years later I would sell my belongings, pack up my children and head back to where my family came from. Where I’d strive to find the peace and happiness that eluded me in the Promised Land. To understand how I ended up here, it’s best I start at the beginning. I decided to embark on my journey through the past by contacting my oldest living relative, my fraternal grandmother Gerd. She delighted in reminiscing and was pleased with my interest in the past.

“Hang on a minute while I get the Bible…that’s where I have all my important dates written down. I’m much too old to remember them anymore,” she said, after I finished explaining I wanted to write about how our family came to America.

Fly Away Home

2

We got started on our two-hour, transatlantic conversation. These were all stories I’d heard before, but needed to hear again and felt lucky she was still here to tell them. By the end of our phone call I could picture her sitting in her chair, small and frail, with a Bible on her lap and her knitting lying close beside her, as it always did. I wanted to give her a hug but couldn’t because of the cruel distance between us. She on one side of the world, me on the other, the opposite of where each of us had started.

My Oldemor, which means great-grandmother in Norwegian, was Jakobine Skadberg. She was born in 1895, on the island of Eigerøy, located off the southwest coast of Norway. At sixteen she went to New York to work as a mother’s helper for a wealthy Norwegian family, returning to Norway two years later with many stories to tell. Soon after her return she married Ludvig Skadberg and although they shared the same last name, they were not related. It was quite common at that time for people to take the name of the place they were born. My great grandparents were both born at Skadberg, an area located on the north side of Eigerøy and where most of its inhabitants were farmers or fishermen.

In 1919 they welcomed a daughter, named her Gerd, and raised her on her mother’s tales of America. These stories, which may have been slightly embellished over the years, were like fairytales and captured the little girl’s imagination. Life in America was something Jakobine and her daughter not only dreamed of but were determined to have. In 1924, times were tough and many people were leaving Norway to start new lives in America. Money was a problem for the young couple, but they worked hard and scraped together enough for Ludvig to go ahead on his own. Once in America, he would find a job fishing and save enough money for the family to follow him. They waited anxiously to hear of his safe arrival but when news finally came, their dreams

3

became a nightmare. Ludvig became ill on the crossing and a few weeks after his arrival in New York died of diabetic complications. The pain of knowing he died trying to fulfill their dream was almost unbearable and hopes of ever leaving Norway toppled down around them.

Gerd was so young when Ludvig died she only has slight, passing, memories of him. Jakobine locked up her memories and never talked much about him. She lived the rest of her long life alone, as if hoping that one day he would send for her, as he promised. I have in my possession a picture of Ludvig taken just before he left for America. He wore a black suit, white shirt and black tie, as they usually did when being photographed in those days. It’s black and white and was taken at a studio in Egersund. Throughout my life, I can always remember it hanging on a wall in Oldemor’s bedroom. Her last years were spent in a nursing home in Egersund, and that’s where it was hanging when she died. Afterwards, I took it back to Eigerøy and hung it in my house. He looks young, much too young to have died. His face is somber, without a hint of a smile. It makes me wonder what he was thinking and whether he worried about leaving his family and going to America without them.

After Ludvig died, Jacobine and Gerd scraped by selling the sweaters they knitted and bread they baked. Following Norwegian tradition, Gerd was confirmed when she was fourteen. For most people confirmation marked the end of school days and the beginning of working life and Gerd was no exception. She was confirmed on a Sunday and started working the very next day. In those days it was not unusual for women to stay in bed for two weeks after giving birth. It was Gerd’s job to go around and help these families with the cooking, cleaning and child minding. After six months of hard work she was paid a single payment of fifteen Norwegian kroner, about $2.50 today.

Fly Away Home

4

In 1938 Gerd turned nineteen and like her mother she married a neighbor with the same last name. Her husband was Trygve Skadberg and together they bought a small farm at Myklebust, not far from Skadberg. They moved to Myklebust and on a cold December night Gerd gave birth to her first baby, a boy. He was born two months early and weighed only four mark, the old method for weighing newborns in Norway and equivalent to about one kilogram. He was born at home with the help of a midwife. He was so small they wrapped him in sheep wool, laid him in a cigar box and kept him warm on top of the oven. She called the boy Ludvig after her late father and, regardless of his fragile start, he would grow up to be big and strong.

Eigerøy was surrounded by the North Sea, except where the fjord separated it from the mainland. It wasn’t really a fjord, because a fjord has no outlet and as this was an island there were outlets on both ends, leading to the North Sea. The locals call it Norda Sundet, but I grew up always calling it a fjord and will continue to do so throughout this story. The island was close enough to the mainland you could see across to it, and the closest town on the mainland was Egersund. There was no bridge and it was only accessible by boat. An old diesel-run fishing boat was used to carry goods and passengers back and forth, between Eigerøy and Egersund. The boat was coincidentally named Skadberg. On 9 April 1940, Egersund, having one of the best natural ports in Norway, was occupied by the Germans during World War II. It was at this time Gerd’s second son, Torstein, was born and then died of pneumonia only six months later. There are no words to describe the terrible pain a mother is left with after a child dies. They cry until they’re numb and then, very slowly, as the earth turns, they start to feel again, but never in the same way as before.

Gerd’s third child was a girl, born in 1942 and named Bjørg,

5

later nicknamed Betty. Two years after her birth the unthinkable happened, Trygve got sick and died from a ruptured appendix. Wracked with sorrow Gerd buried her young husband and three weeks later gave birth to her fourth, and last, child. She named the boy Trygve after his father, the father he would never know. It was 1944, the island was heavily occupied with German soldiers and Gerd was a twenty-five year old widow with three small children to raise and a farm to run. The future seemed bleak, but the only choice she had was to gather up her strength and press on.

Gerd and Jakobine, having suffered the same cruel fate, joined forces. The small run-down farm they owned at Myklebust was called Strandveien, ‘the way to the shore’. The island is quite narrow at Myklebust, making it possible to see the ocean on one side and the fjord on the other. The farm sits on the side closest to the fjord and its fields sweep all the way down to the water’s edge. They lived in a small timber house, without electricity or inside plumbing, and behind the house was a large barn where they kept the animals. They had four cows, three pigs, forty chickens and half a horse - they shared the horse with another farm. They grew potatoes, turnips and oats, which they mostly ate themselves. Sometimes they were lucky and the men from neighboring farms would take pity and help out. Still, there was more than enough work for the two women to do. Ludvig was only six and already gathering eggs and milking cows. They sold what they could but still struggled. There were many times, with only dry bread for breakfast and potatoes for dinner, that they went to bed hungry.

The war ended in 1945, but the poverty didn’t. They were forced to give up the animals after the war and Gerd took a job working on the docks, salting herring. Everyday she’d walk a mile to the dock, work all day with her hands in ice-cold water, then walk the long mile back home. Jakobine would watch the children, knit, bake and hold together what was left of the little farm.

Fly Away Home

6

I asked Gerd to tell me what her days were like.“Oh, it was hard, cold, wet and dirty. The children were

hungry so I just kept going. Always dreaming of America and wondering how I could get there.”

I wanted more, so I pressed on. “Can you please tell me a story about my father when he was young?”

I waited, as she quietly rummaged through her memories, and could feel the years slipping away as she did. She started talking and it was like a veil lifting, I saw beyond her ninety years and could imagine the young and beautiful woman she once was.

She explained how the island was not far from the mainland, but it was a trip they hardly ever made. They did, however, always go to Egersund for syttende mai, seventeenth of May, Norway’s National Constitution Day. On 17 May 1814, Norway became a free and independent nation and all over Norway it is still celebrated. Norwegians are very patriotic and believe it is a day for children, as they are the future of the country. People of all ages line the streets of the small towns, dressed in traditional Norwegian costumes called bunad, or wearing red, white and blue ribbons, the colors of their flag, pinned to their best clothes. They watch as the school children march through the streets waving small flags, singing the national anthem ‘Ja vi elsker dette landet’, ‘Yes, we love this country’. Marching bands follow close behind as people shout “hurra for Norge.” Afterwards there is ice cream and soda for all.

Gerd remembered one syttende mai in particular. It was the day before and the children were at school. She stood outside in the unexpected and much appreciated sunshine hanging clothes. Embraced by a warm and caressing breeze she tried in vain not to be fooled by this simple pleasure. She knew too well that at any moment the cold, northern wind could come charging back. Glancing out past the fields, which seemed greener that day, she

7

noticed a small boat coming in the fjord with a flock of seagulls in stubborn pursuit. Her eyes followed the boat as it chugged through the still water creating a rising swell, which lost all strength as it descended towards the shore. She lost sight of the boat as it passed Kråkefjellet, ‘Crow’s Mountain’.

Hearing the familiar sounds of the Tjeld, Pied Oystercatchers, and the Vipe, Northern Lapwings, announcing their return, confirmed that spring had finally arrived. The Tjeld were large black and white birds with red bills and matching long red legs, with their distinctive looks and loud harsh cries there was no mistaking them. The Vipe were also black and white but could not be confused with the Tjeld, as the lapping sound from its wings and the shrill of its call make it unique. These birds returned every year and would congregate with the crows and the seagulls on Kråkefjellet. The island sat high above the fjord with sloping hills leading down to the shoreline, except for Kråkefjellet where the fjord was a straight drop down. The birds would swoop along the shoreline to grab a mussel shell then fly high up over Kråkefjellet and release it. After smashing on impact, the birds would circle back to eat its contents. The view from Kråkefjellet gave the birds complete command of the fjord and its outlet into the North Sea.

Perhaps it was the warm May sun or maybe the anticipation of the day to come, whatever it was, Gerd felt happy. It was not often she could enjoy a carefree day with her children. Basking in the sunshine, lost in her thoughts, she was startled when one of Ludvig’s classmates appeared.

Out of breath from running, he said the teacher wanted her to come quickly, then turned and started running back to the school. With a frightening feeling deep in her gut, she followed after the boy, all the way to the tiny one room schoolhouse near the beach. There she found her son lying on the ground, his nose bleeding and his eye swollen. The teacher, a tall, stern, no

Fly Away Home

8

nonsense man, explained how he had lined the class up outside so they could practice for the coming day. They had been singing and waving their flags as they marched around the school yard when Ludvig, jokingly, lifted his flag and yelled, “Heil Hitler.” Hearing this, the angry teacher hit him and knocked him to the ground.

Shocked by the scene, Gerd cried out, “He’s only a boy and obviously has no real understanding of the war, or its devastation.”

Knowing this was no excuse, as it had only been a few years since the war had ended, and seeing the sullen look in the teacher’s eyes, she understood there would be no making amends.

“Take him home and I don’t want to see him back here again for the rest of this school year!” The teacher ordered through clenched teeth.

The happiness she had felt earlier in the day was now gone, gobbled up by life.

Disturbed by this story, knowing as a mother how she must have felt and saddened by all the tragedy she’d endured throughout the years, I wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know how. Sensing despair in my silence, it was she who offered me comfort instead.

“Oh Margaret, don’t worry. It was a long time ago and things were much different back then,” she said.

How I admire this woman.In 1949 Gerd remarried a man eleven years her junior,

Arthur Myklebust. He adopted her children and their names were changed from Skadberg to Myklebust. In 1955 they sold the small farm and their American dream was, finally, about to become a reality. Jakobine, Gerd, Arthur and all three children left Norway on a ship bound for New York.

9

CHApTEr 2

JErSEY GIrL

In the spring of 1955, Mary Hibbs was only sixteen years old, when one day her younger brother, John, brought a friend home from school. John introduced the boy to the family

telling them his name was Trygve, but everyone just called him Ted for short. He explained how Ted and his family had just moved over from Norway. After the family fi nished bombarding Ted with questions about Norway, Mary jokingly asked if he had any older brothers. He said he did. His brother’s name was Ludvig,

Me, my sister Mary Lou and my mother 1961