The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1968, Blaðsíða 40

38
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Spring 1968
The editor, Mrs. Baldur Lindal, was
born in Boston, Massachusetts, and,
while a student at Boston University
specializing in journalism, she met
Baldur Lindal from Iceland who was
doing postgraduate work in chemical
engineering. A courtship started at the
International Students Club in Cam-
bridge and they were married in 1949
and have lived in Reykjavik ever since.
They have four boys, Rikki, Jakie,
Eirikur and Tryggvi.
The front page cover of the 35 page
first number of the magazine .shows two
maps of Iceland; one is right side up on
which a page from an original Ice-
landic Saga has been superimposed;
the other is upside down on which
words in English are irregularly scatter-
ed, such as transition, techniques, lit-
erature, fishing, etc.
The annual subscription abroad of
65° is $4.00, American currency.
W. J. L.
by BOGI BJARNASON
We met that first time in a mirror
facing a snack-bar on Hastings St.,
Vancouver, B.C.—the old saloon-days
type of mirror, wide and clear.
Shoulder to shoulder on stools, we
had not spoken, but his reflected
glance was a friendly “Hi’ Pal’’, which
I reciprocated. We then fell to con-
versing, with the result that he insisted
on paying for both snacks, in the
process displaying a roll of bills “fit
to choke a cow”. I was impressed.
In days and weeks following we met
frequently, he on his rounds as a sales-
man of sorts (I was not to learn till
much later what it was he peddled).
Like myself a bachelor we met often at
nearby restaurants, and in time took
to looking in at each others’ digs, af-
fably and unceremoniously. Having
much in common we ‘hit it off in the
friendliest fashion. It appeared to me
that he supplied something I much
needed, the intimacy of a fellow-
human, for at times I was lonesome.
When he leaned an elbow on my
shoulder and spoke into my ear, al-
most conspiratorially, I felt the ‘lift’ of
belonging. He was like that.
Yet he puzzled me; I couldn’t quite
make him out. Well-off and carefree,
dressing expensively and in style, if
not always in the best taste, he was an
agreeable companion. That my girl
Mary did not approve of him, even
to the extent of “either he or I”, was
not enough to break my bond with
him. His apartment was usually in a
mess of disorder, the bed unmade, his
clothes strewn about on the floor.
That was just his way, and he made
no excuses for it. Take it or leave it.
Who cares!
★ ★ ★
I had a desk-job with a finance con-
cern that paid well, work that I liked,
and my savings account grew at a satis-
factory rate. Young and healthy and
with no dependents I could look for-
ward to a career of security and com-
fort. In spare time I worked diligent-
ly at a mail-order course leading to a
degree in economics and a better
position. All very well.
Then one day my pal, by now quite
intimate, told me about an “order”