Today, my friend Nick sent me a few photos of our trip to Norway in 1975. The summer right after I graduated from college, we worked on a farm there for six weeks for room and board.

Here are the photos:

This is a photo of Nils, who was in his 70s, and me at age 22.

Nils was one of the healthiest people I have ever met. He scampered up and down the mountain paths near his home, scythed wheat in the middle of the night if he couldn’t sleep, and had a peace about him that suggested true contentment. He laughed easily, teased a lot, and seemed to truly enjoy having two American kids on his small farm to do some of the work while the rest of his family was on holiday. A truly lovely person.

Here I am dressed to tackle the worst job in the world: cleaning out a large, very stinky, claustrophobic chicken house that hadn’t seen a shovel in years.

Nils gave us this job with a small smile on his face. He clearly understood the less-than-ideal conditions we faced in that ammonia-filled chicken house. I can’t help but imagine he thought it would be character-building for two American kids trying a new adventure in Europe.

Here I am at the top of the mountain above Nils’s house on a Sunday, which was our day off.

Nils took us on this hike, racing ahead and then doubling back to check on us. He’d been traversing those mountain paths all of his life. We followed behind, breathless and with legs aching. But we made it to the top, and the view was well worth the effort.

Thanks, Nick, for sending these photos. We were young, full of life, and drinking in the atmosphere of that remote village in Norway. What a summer!

Nick and me later that year in Northern Italy

Nick and I are still good friends almost fifty years later, though we’ve been happily married to other people for many years.

Here’s to lasting friendship.