This is not The Viking but he loves this painting. He saw it in my apartment in New Jersey 1984. It's a cover up painting. There are about four other paintings underneath. I told him he can have it. He left it with me. He asked me to bring it with me to Texas when I moved. I had no idea why he thought I would move. Two years later I moved to Texas.
I love my husband. I call him The Viking. He is of Norwegian, English and German decent. The photos on the left were taken around the time we met in the Philippines. He was a Peace Corps Volunteer and I was taking post graduate nursing studies in Manila. I have loved him since that evening I saw him from across the room at a Christmas party in 1979. Our glances met. He was wearing white polo shirt with thin horizontal stripes and blue jeans. He looked so handsome yet so gentle. He looked like a very kind man. All my impressions of him were true. I was so jolted and shaken, suddenly I felt my chest cavity tighten, I had to catch my breath. I whispered to myself "Oh my God! I just met my husband." It took another two hours of exchanging glances before I got so fed up that he was so shy, he did not approach me. I came with a friend and she was impatient. She wanted to leave. She told me that her chauffeur was waiting downstairs and was getting hungry. I told her to let the chauffeur come up and eat. She had none of it. I told her I was waiting for the American to approach me. She warned me about American men then she left me at the party. I approached The Viking, I was so nervous yet excited. He was so handsome with blond hair and mustache. We were both young. I said: "Hi, I saw you looking at me from across the room." He replied "You were looking at me too." I retorted "You looked first." He responded "Yes, please sit down next to me."I was wearing white rolled up long sleeved collared shirt tucked in my blue jeans. I sat down next to him. He said "I like your shoes." I was wearing custom made brown oxford shoes.
He complains about my shoes. He says I have so many shoes. He thinks I must have a hundred. I correct him. "One hundred and one, at least!" He exhales. I love my husband.