"During the eleven years I taught English at the Oil Companies School in Tripoli, Libya, I wrote letters once a week, sometimes more, to my mother and father, Torger and Gladys Froiland, in Clear Lake, Iowa. They saved every letter I wrote. When I returned to the States, I stored the letters in a box in the attic of my home in Maine. Decades later, they called to me. I knew that along with memories that would warm my heart, I was sure to open wounds that had been a long time healing. First among these is the death of the man with whom I shared these adventures. My husband, Peter Mott Nowell, died in a diving accident in Brazil on November 29, 1983, at the age of 44. We were teaching at Escola Pan Americana in Salvador Bahia, and in addition to the sadness and terror of losing a loving husband in a foreign country, I felt regret for the loss of a teacher rarely encountered. Peter loved life, teaching, and telling stories. He would have loved to tell this one. In the end, as in life, memories of good times and hopes for discovery tipped the scale. I opened the box of letters as one with a newfound treasure"-- Provided by publisher.
This resource is supported by the Institute of Museum and Library Services under the provisions of the Library Services and Technology Act as administered by State Library of Iowa.