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I will never forget the tenth summer of childhood with my grandfather in western Norway at the mountain farm where my mother was born. As a boy, I always thought people simply bought whatever they need. Whether Grandfather know this, I don't know. One day he said, "Come, I have something for you."
I followed him to a workroom. "You should have a toy boat. You can sail it at Storvassdal." He said. Great, I thought, looking around for the boat. But there was none.
Grandfather pointed to a block of wood. "The boat is in there," he said. Then he handed me some tools and showed me how to use them properly. "It'll be a fine boat, and you'll make it with your own hands," he said," No one can give you what you do for yourself." The words rang in my head as I worked. Finished the boat. It wasn't much to look at, but I was pound. Then I sailed it at Storvassdal.
We had to return to America. "You cannot bring that boat home with you," my mother said. We already had too much baggage. Feeling sad, I hid my boat under a big rock at Storvassdal.
I said good-bye to Grandfather, not knowing I would never see him again.
In 1964, I went to Storvassdal with my parents and my wife and children. To my surprise, for 34 years my treasure stayed here, waiting for my return. I felt we three were together again although my grandfather had died 22 years before.
I carved"1930"and"1964" on its side and put it back.
I returned to the lake in 1968, 1971, 1977 and 1988. Each time I had the boat and carved the year, my grandfather seemed near.
My last trip to Storvassdal was in 1991. I brought my granddaughters: Catherine, 13; Claire,12. I hoped they would understand the importance of the little boat and its simple message. At Storvassdal, Claire said softly,"Grandpa, someday I'll come back." She added," And I'll bring my children."
