Here comes the story of a small family who, in the early 1970s, chose to travel to the other side of the world. My family consisted of my father and mother, my brother, and me – aged 3 at the time.
My father had been awarded a scholarship to pursue his PhD in analytical chemistry at the University of Lafayette, Indiana. The plan was for him to work there for a year, while my mother stayed at home, my brother went to school, and I attended kindergarten.
That year turned out to mean everything for us as a family. For both my brother and me, it became a year we would refer back to throughout our entire childhood. It was the seed of our very first tender dreams of following our curiosity and exploring the world. All dreams start somewhere – this is where my dreams of traveling began.
When the dream begins with a luxury liner across the Atlantic
It wasn’t because we were wealthy that we crossed the Atlantic on a luxury liner. Quite the opposite. Nor was it because there weren’t any flights that suited us. It was because my mother was terrified of flying and had made it a condition for joining us in the U.S. that we would sail to America.
So the journey began by train to France, where we boarded the famous luxury liner QE2 in Cherbourg to cross the great ocean. The voyage across the Atlantic held no storms or icebergs, and there was a swimming pool, delicious food in the restaurant, and a cabin with a porthole.
After about a week, we got up at 4 a.m. – we had arrived in New York and were sailing into the great city. A thick mist hung over New York’s many bridges, and Manhattan drifted past us, wrapped in dense fog. I often think, when I look at these pictures, what it must have been like for my father and mother to stand there on the ship with two small children, a couple of suitcases, and an unknown future ahead of them. What thoughts and feelings must have passed through them?
And what about all the people who, throughout history, have sailed into New York right here? Fear of the unknown and the new, mixed with the dream of America. Did they dream of new adventures?
The journey across the Atlantic was over. My father and mother had reached their first destination – and they still had both children with them. The fear that we might get lost on the huge ship or fall overboard had weighed on them for an entire week, and now it could finally lift. I can clearly see that relief in this picture, taken as we disembarked from the QE2.
Ahead of us lay a full day in New York before continuing by train to Chicago, where good friends were waiting for us.
When dreams suddenly turn into reality
As with most journeys, the transit into a new country is never easy. You’ve made it part of the way, and although you long to rest before moving on, the next leg of the trip always lingers in the back of your mind – reminding you to stay alert and not forget that soon, you’ll be on your way again.
The day we were to spend in New York must not have been easy. We were surely exhausted, and especially we children could hardly grasp the length of our journey or what still lay ahead. And when you find yourself in one of the world’s largest cities, swirling with people, traffic, and skyscrapers so tall they make you feel tiny, well – then it surely takes even more to be a family on the move.
The train ride took us through Pennsylvania, Ohio, and up through Indiana to Chicago, in a compartment with bunk beds. We stayed awake all night, gazing out through the train window, excited by everything new we saw passing by in the darkness – American towns, landscapes, and beautiful American wooden houses.
When the dream becomes everyday life
After Chicago, we went on to our town, Lafayette, where we were given an apartment to live in. As with all dreams that last over time, everyday life slowly began to take over for us too. We created new routines, and all the strangeness became more and more normal. We did the kinds of things we would also have done back home in Denmark – and yet, there were big differences.
Everything was new. Everything had to be tried for the very first time. We found our daily rhythm in the large supermarkets, the likes of which we had never seen in Denmark at the time. We went to Eisner every day and sometimes took the bus to SEARS and K-Mart. They all carried new and exciting things that hadn’t yet reached Denmark. And K-Mart was beautifully decorated for Christmas – in a way we had never experienced back home.
My father started at the university, Mads started school, and I began kindergarten. My mother was the one who took care of the home and gathered the family, creating a sense of calm in the midst of the chaos.
Kindergarten and school
The days were spent at school and kindergarten. Mads learned to speak English quite quickly. I, on the other hand, became language-confused and almost stopped speaking for several months. But the language eventually came back, and after a bit of babbling, I also began to speak a mix of Danish and English.
When we experience intense episodes in our lives, we remain on alert. Our instincts look out for danger, and we experience events very intensely. That is why I remember quite a lot from my time in kindergarten in the U.S., but very little from my kindergarten days in Denmark after we returned. I can recall strong emotions and particular situations – likely aided by the photos I have from that time. Kindergarten was a difficult period for me, but the teachers cared for me warmly, and I gradually found my way through it.
When the dream brings new friends
We made many new friends during the year we lived in the U.S. My father and mother were both outgoing and were met with the same openness from other expats, including colleagues my father worked with. The friendships were mostly American, but they also made friends from other countries. My parents maintained many of these new friendships for years and also visited each other.
Mads made many good friends at school, and I tagged along at first. We also played a little with the other children in the swimming pool. Later, I became brave enough to seek out some of the girls in our housing area, but otherwise, I mostly spent time with my family.
When the dream unleashes adventures
Our year in the U.S. gave us experiences we would never have had if we had stayed at home in safe Denmark. These were experiences we talked about a lot as a family and still do from time to time. They were grand, exciting adventures – but also adventures that weren’t entirely safe – yet thrilling to recount afterward.
Some of the big adventures included sailing across the Atlantic, seeing the Statue of Liberty, feeling the inland heat and humidity in Lafayette, exploring real ghost towns (abandoned towns), and enduring ice-cold winters where everything was wrapped in ice. We also visited the Indianapolis Motor Speedway – the enormous racetrack – and met Native Americans. There were experiences like riding Greyhound buses, flying for the first time, and seeing trains longer than we had ever imagined… there was so much to discover.
Then there were the quirky little adventures, like the winter day, late in the month and short on money, when we found a $5 bill under the ice and rushed to Donuts, spending all our newfound money on donuts.
But there were also the slightly more frightening adventures, like when Lafayette was hit by tornadoes, and we had to sit under the stairwell of our apartment building until the danger passed. My parents always had a bag packed with our passports, a few toys, and some candy, which we took with us while waiting out the tornadoes. We experienced hailstones as big as golf balls and a sky that turned completely green before a tornado appeared. Once, we witnessed a violent tornado that literally lifted a house off the ground and set it down on the other side of the road – right in the area where Mads’ teacher lived. It became an adventure I would often retell vividly to my friends, even many years later.
Then there was the time I slipped on the ice in front of the SEARS supermarket after an ice storm and got a concussion. Americans weren’t used to people walking on the streets like we Danes did, so they hadn’t cleared the ice. When I started vomiting, SEARS contacted my father’s Finnish friend, Heikihei, who lent us his car so we could drive to the emergency room. On the way, we were stopped by the police (we can’t remember why), but when I began to throw up, they thankfully let us continue. At the emergency room, they wouldn’t treat me until we paid a large sum of money. We didn’t have it, but luckily, we could borrow from Heikihei. Good friends are invaluable when traveling in the world.
When dreams strengthen the family
I remember our time in the U.S. as if we quickly became integrated into American life. We had a daily routine and a life similar to that of many other Americans. Our network worked, and I experienced Lafayette as my hometown while we were there. We didn’t have much money and sometimes had to struggle a little harder than we probably would have back home, since my mother didn’t work.
But because we had traveled away from our life, family, and friends, the four of us stuck together. I believe that our year in the U.S. helped create a strong foundation for our family – a foundation that I think supported us throughout my childhood. A feeling that we stand together, no matter what.
When dreams come at a cost
But dreams don’t come for free. Everything has a price.
When you travel abroad, you leave behind all the familiar, safe surroundings of home. We didn’t have the internet or email, and we couldn’t afford a phone, so all contact with Denmark was through letters and packages. We missed our family.
Even though I was just a little girl, I missed my grandmothers. I missed Mols, my grandmother’s summerhouse, and yes – everything familiar and safe that I had left behind. From time to time, we received letters, and our family also sent us pictures from Denmark, which we spent a lot of time looking at and talking about. We often recorded cassette tapes with talks and songs from our daily life and sent them home to Denmark. Some of those recordings still exist – they’re fun to listen to even today.
When the dream comes to an end
But the longing for our family back in Denmark fortunately brought a natural conclusion. After a year, my father’s university scholarship had expired, and we packed our few belongings into suitcases and began the journey home. It wasn’t an easy trip back – we once again faced uncertainty and the new challenge of readjusting to life in Denmark.
We were originally supposed to sail home again, but in the meantime, the QE2 had caught fire and had not yet been restored, so we had to fly home.
We traveled by Greyhound bus from Chicago to New York, where we flew to Denmark on a jumbo jet. It was then that my dream of becoming a “jumbo mom” (flight attendant) was born, and for many years I was convinced that I would become a flight attendant when I grew up. Along the way, however, I developed other dreams.
By now, we had gained a full year of experience, and returning home to Denmark, we carried a suitcase filled with experiences and adventures. Adventures that sparked our curiosity about the world beyond Denmark and a (sometimes restless) longing to see more of it. Adventures we could only have had because my parents had dreamed of America – and because they found the courage to live out that dream.
And just look here – my proof that, even at 3½ years old, I could already call myself a globetrotter.
25 years later
In 2000, my parents returned to the U.S., this time to settle in Louisville, Kentucky. On my first visit, we rented a car and drove to Lafayette to revisit our old home and neighborhood, where we had lived 25 years earlier.
Here we are in front of our old apartment. Everything looked just the same – the balcony my brother and I had played on, the windows of the stairwell where we hid during the tornado, and the outdoor stairs we hung out on after coming home from the swimming pool. Everything looked as if we had just left yesterday. We revisited the school, the kindergarten, the shopping centers, and the Burger King that saved us during lean weeks with $1 burgers.
The scent was still the same as back then. The humidity felt just the same. Time seemed almost to have stood still. We were like travelers passing through from the future, revisiting the sets of our former lives. Everything was ready, waiting for us to step in and pretend we still lived there. It was moving to see, and I felt a lump in my throat.
Today, I know the area still exists. From time to time, I take a trip on Google Maps. After a little searching, the familiar scenes reappear, and if I drop into Street View, it almost feels like being there all over again.
The dream of America was lived, but it is not fully lived yet. I know I must go back – not just to revisit Lafayette, but also to explore all the other exciting places in the U.S., to see America with fresh eyes, and not least, with 45 years of experience richer. But it is wonderful to look back on. A truly lovely adventure.
Links
Our home in Lafayette, Indiana, USA
Memory Lane
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