Writings
Memoir Stories

My connection with my mom started when I was almost 3 years old. I came home from living with my grandparents (my mom’s parents) since I was 6 weeks old. To explain what actually happened I have to go to the past experiences of my mother according to the birth of her first child. It was 1943 when my mother became pregnant with her first child when she was 18 years old. My parents married when she was in her fourth month of pregnancy, and it was World War II. They have got 1 bedroom and a living room on the first floor of my aunt’s and uncle’s home. The pregnancy progressed and she would deliver the baby at home. But when the time of birth came there were some complications, and my mother finished up in the hospital. Her baby survived only a few hours, and my mother never got to see her little baby girl. After 2 years she got another baby girl and after another 2 years her first son. Then the twins came 4 years later, a boy and a girl. Three years later I was up to come to Earth. I was discovered during gallbladder surgery. My mom was already 4 months pregnant, and they right away stopped the surgery. Because of my mom’s complications with her first baby that died the doctors were afraid for my mother’s and my life. She was not allowed to go home and went from the hospital to a kind of rehab for the rest of her pregnancy till delivery. She had to lay on her back and was not allowed to move much. My siblings went to the family but all apart as only the twins stayed together with relatives in Amsterdam. It was a stressful time for everyone involved. My mother was very afraid to lose a baby again and missed her children who couldn’t visit her. My father had to work and could only visit his wife on the weekend. I also heard stories from my parents that sometimes in the week when he had an early shift he biked to the place. This was a 15 mile ride and he stood then at the end of the yard at a fence waving to his wife for 5 minutes. The nurses helped my mother to stand up for just 5 minutes. What a deep love and care my father had for my mother. I was born on August 29 1953 after an easy delivery in the hospital. I was healthy, had a good weight and didn’t have any problem with breastfeeding. After 10 days my mom and I came home. Family and friends had gathered clothing, diapers and a crib because the doctor's advice was not to have anything because they were not sure if I would make it alive. I surprised everyone. Coming home with her baby was one improvement but when a little while later all of her other 4 children came back home it was too overwhelming. Suddenly she was in a position of 5 months totally resting, back to a busy family life and now of 5 children. She also suffered from post-natal depression which caused her not being able to take care of me properly. I was malnourished and my grandmother saw that her daughter needed serious help, and she made the decision to take me home. Wrapped in sheets she picked me up off the crib and held me in her arms sitting on the back of my grandfather's bicycle. This is longer than 70 years ago, and it was a totally different time where you were able to solve this problem by relatives without the intervention of childcare. My grandmother became my mother during my first three years and taught me to sit, to crawl, to walk and to talk. There was a time when I was 2 ½ years old that my grandmother was in the hospital for 3 months because of complications after hip surgeries. My youngest brother was born 18 months after me. He had health issues with his lungs and was hospitalized several times, which was a big concern for my parents. To prevent my mother from having a breakdown she decided with the best intentions not to bring me back yet. She asked her sister who was living in Amsterdam with her 5 or 6 children to care for me till she was able to care for me again. My mother told me that when I was a baby of 15 months old, she came to see me for the first time and I rejected her by screaming at the top of my lungs. I was very afraid of her and held onto my grandmother. My mother shared with me that she was deeply shocked and hurt. There was never a strong connection developed with my mom and I for the rest of my life and we walked a rocky road. I fully understand that it was very difficult for her to find the right coping skills with all what happened in her life. I love my mom and she will always have a warm spot in my heart.

I was 14 years old and the fifth of my siblings of 6. I had 2 older sisters, 2 older brothers and 1 younger brother. I always wanted to catch up with my 2 older sisters. I was the baby girl but wanted to be held as a grown-up teenager. I was not a child anymore and wanted to have this recognition so what to do about it? It all depended on that age how your appearance was. I even wanted a new bra while nobody could see the design or brand but it was just all about your inner feeling of confidence with yourself. I do remember I chose a pink bra covered with little cute flowers - understand this was in the flower power time. For the first time I would have nylons but at that time at least in the Netherlands a pantyhose didn’t exist so it was the old fashioned nylon holders which I never liked. Of course, I wanted a short skirt because this was in 1967 but my father didn’t agree and my mother decided that I could have one – corduroy material – gold colored – just above my knee and I was in Heaven. My sister gave me a tight top of hers but then my father didn’t agree but my mother bought a black semi leather vest. With that my father could agree and I looked a little bit decent but still sexy, which is what I wanted of course. I also got my first shoes with a little heel and felt very good about it. From my allowance I bought some make-up and of course I overdid it and my father didn’t agree because he said I looked like a hooker and my mother said I looked like a walking painting. They both said that I didn’t need make-up because I was a natural beauty and of course I didn’t agree with them because I saw another face in the mirror. To please my parents, I took it off and just put lipstick on my lips and decided when I would go to my friend’s house that I would put make-up on how I wanted it. What about my hair? It was long blond hair in waves and I looked like an angel but I was not satisfied and overnight I made braids so my waves became stronger. Also, from my allowance I bought some cheap jewelry but made sure that I had big earrings in. At that time a necklace made from velvet was fashionable so I bought black velvet and sewed it to fit my neck and hang an earring in because I lost one. Then I had some similar earrings with it and I made a black velvet bracelet too. I sneaked some perfume of my mother’s which she hid beneath the mirror table in her room. Now I was ready to go for my first dance and I felt like a beautiful little lady. 2 My parents were in shock when I showed up how I wanted to look and my father right away ordered my oldest sister to supervise me and she was not at all happy with this. It was her evening out too and she didn’t want to be a baby sitter. She actually had a date, but my parents didn’t know about it because she was afraid they wouldn’t approve. I had very good examples with my sisters who knew exactly how to look to get male turners. Because that is what I wanted too of course to impress the opposite sex. It was a job to get this all together and for a moment I did realize that it was not as easy as I thought it would be. I was so excited and didn’t know what to expect but first I went to my friend’s house for make-up and her parents were more open to it so it was not any problem. I took a lot of tissues with me to use for cleaning my face when I had to return home that night. My oldest sister warned me that she didn’t want to be responsible for me if dad would find out somehow about my make-up. Once when I entered the ballroom, I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t know how to behave. My 2 sisters, my friend and I were assigned to a table and there were some kids dancing already. I loved the music and soon a cute boy came to me and asked me for a dance and God Thanks it was a dance like disco dancing where you were on your own and not touching. I had a good time and loved it but then suddenly the music changed and became ready for slow dancing. Now I was in trouble because I felt shy and insecure. But the cute guy was not planning to stop and took me in his arms and guided me in dancing. It was like I felt in Heaven and never had this feeling before. The light was dimmed and there was a kind of ball on the ceiling with all little mirrors which caused little lights everywhere. I learned to dance at parties at home but that was with family and this was totally different. The guy I was with was 17 years old and he was shocked when he found out I was only 14 years old and dumped me in a second. I did such a good job to be a lady but was not accepted for my young age. There went my feeling of proudness out of the window. This happened at the very end of this first dancing night but I still felt good about the guy and the dancing one after the other song. I had a good time that I will never forget. My father never found out about putting make-up on my face at my friend’s house. Many times, I enjoyed dancing evenings at this young age with very good memories.

I remember being with my grandparents who lived across the street. My grandfather was a tall man and well respected by many because he had set up a football club together with a good friend. His 3 sons grew up in a coal miner's neighborhood and their middle son was my father and his name was Benjamin. My grandmother was a very little woman and a little bit heavy set. He was a Dutch man from Amsterdam and my grandmother came from a little town in Germany. They had many differences but they loved each other and made their marriage work. My grandfather was an educated man and grew up in a middle-class environment in the big city. My grandmother didn’t have any education, came from a family of 17 children and her mother died in childbirth of the 17th. Her father was a hard-working coal miner but couldn’t take care of all these children by himself. So, most of the youngest ones, like my grandmother she was 11 years old was given to a wealthy family to become a housemaid and in return she received a bed to sleep and she was fed. No education involved and that is how she grew up to survive. My grandfather came from a family of 3 sons and 1 sister. So far, I know what was told to me he was the youngest and spoiled. He became very rebellious growing up and also liked alcohol too much. He was cast out by his family and did not have any rights anymore of inheritance. So, he moved from Amsterdam to the far South of the Netherlands. Worked as a coal miner but somehow, he didn’t fit in that environment. He read always 2 newspapers, one local and the other one nationally with also world news on a daily basis. My grandmother, she did what she was used to since she was young - taking care of the household and now of my grandfather. I do remember she cooked on a coal stove most of the year and it smelled always so good when you came in. There was always something she was cooking or canning food for the winter. In summertime she cooked only on 2 gas burners but most they ate cold food. She had chickens in her backyard, grew vegetables and had 3 fruit trees, apples, pears and cherries where a part of it was always canned for the winter. When she had her harvest by example of string beans then we grandkids were also invited to help her to pick it from the land and to clean. She always had great fresh lemonade and cookies for us. We went for it and enjoyed listening to the stories the adults were telling. Mostly it was about the good old times of course and the concerns about the future and my grandfathers’ stories were mostly about politics. He was a socialist and didn’t believe in a church because he said they are always after your money and has nothing to do with God. My grandfather was a devoted man grow up protestant and prayed a lot because he said you can pray anywhere and talk to God. Anyone could knock on the door for help and if he could help them, he never refused and reached out. Very interesting is that he was married to a woman who grew up Catholic and she was very devoted going to the church every single day except Saturday. Often in my childhood, I went with her to the first service early in the morning at 7AM. It was mostly dark when I went over to pick her up. I loved being together with her and my other siblings were not interested but all of us went to a Catholic school. My grandmother always gave me little peppermints in the church and some money for the donation collection. When we came home, she always made breakfast for the four of us and I set the table. My youngest brother Benjamin lived with them till he was 10 years old before he came back to the family of six children. I enjoyed having the focus so much on me and my little brother. At home my mother was sickly and not really able to take care of all of us. I had 2 older brothers – and 2 older sisters above me and were more major than I was. My lovely grandparents showed me a lot of how to overcome differences and live with each other with respect. They were loving and caring for us and we felt loved and cared for. Because of my grandparents I had a chance to grow up with my little brother although I lived – slept across the street with my parents and other siblings. Because of my mother's sickness, she had a brain tumor - no possibility to remove - and that paralyzed her for periods so my grandparents and family stepped in often to help. We had a family physician visiting my mother two times a week and one or the other day a nurse came to take care of my mother. The house cleaning and grocery shopping was done by all of us. One of the neighbors took care of our laundry and got paid of course. My father was a very hardworking coal miner and the only provider that needed to pay all of the bills. We always had family, friends and neighbors coming to our house to visit my sick mother. That means that one of us was directed to make coffee to at least offer a cup for their interest to visit my mother. My grandparents came over every night except Saturday to be with us and watch TV. I have only sweet memories about these lovely grandparents who were a big part of my life growing up. I am grateful for those life experiences.

We lived in a small row home of only 3 bedrooms with a small front yard and a larger back yard. My fathers hobby was holding pigeons for flying long distances in a race with other pigeon lovers. So part of the back yard had a pigeon run and another part we had a vegetable garden. I was about 8 years old and had 2 older sisters and brothers. My mother had a brain tumor behind her left eye that couldn’t be removed. She always wore dark glasses in winter or summer time to ease the pain. What I didn’t know at that time is that she had a hysterectomy and had menopausal symptoms like hot flashes and mood swings. Our house was built of bricks and gave some coolness in the summer and held on to the heat in the winter time. But when we had a heat wave in the summer and with no air conditioning it could be very uncomfortable. We had small windows and when there was no breeze it was unbearable for my mother. Since she couldn’t be that much outside because of the bright sunlight she felt often trapped in her own house and space. Especially in summertime when we had school vacation and were at home all the time. We had no patio in the back but my father got the idea to do something for my mothers condition. He painted the outside walls in a white color of the house in the back. Then he put some old sheets together and connected them from wall to the wall that separated the yard from our neighbors. We had no money for extra expenses like patio furniture so because the kitchen door was our exit to the back, he carried the kitchen table and chairs outside. Now it was safe for my mother to sit outside all day long and enjoy the outside. She became in a better mood and it felt good for all of us. We loved to eat outside and not in the kitchen. It just was different and I always thought it tasted better outside. Only when the weather looked bad then my older brothers took the kitchen furniture inside and took the sheets off but that was not so often. I do remember having great summers. We had no money for vacation but my mother purchased a family summer public swimming pool membership. Almost every day we went to the pool that was a 40 minute walk early in the morning till almost closing time. Packed with sandwiches of peanut butter or apple butter and bottles of cold tea as well as a piece of fruit. Sometimes we also got some money like a dime for buying some candy. Mostly we did errands for my mother like getting books for her from the library or returning empty bottles to receive a deposit. We were tired but satisfied at night and often after a late dinner went to bed. We didn't have much money either because my mother was often sick and my father was the only provider for 5 kids but I never felt that we were short of our happiness in summer time. My parents made it work and we enjoyed every day of eating outside in the back of our house or being at the public swimming pool. My memories give me a smile on my face and feel a sweetness toward my family.

My earliest memories are going back to when I was three years old and lived with my grandmother on my moms side. We lived in the South of the Netherlands and most of her sisters and brothers lived in the North. Her favorite sister named Aunt Bep lived in Amsterdam and often we took a train trip to visit her. The train trips took a long time (2.5 hours) and I always liked the delicious sandwiches and lemonade. The scenery passed by very fast and half the time I was just sleeping because sometimes we arrived by night and it was dark. I do remember in Amsterdam the trolley and the canals with the boats and we also fed the beautiful colored duckies with leftover bread. Mostly we stayed for several days and I also remember the small grocery store at the corner where I always received rock candy white or brown. Later on when my grandmother landed in the hospital for hip surgery she took me over to stay with Aunt Bep and her family for weeks. I couldn’t go back to my parents because my mother was still too sick to care for her 6 children and went in and out of hospitals all over the country. My mother was dealing with a brain tumor that affected her walking because she was paralyzed from the waist down. When I was 3.5 years old I came back to the family as well as my other siblings too because my mother could stay home and received home care by the Catholic church. My grandmother of my fathers side came over often to help out with us kids. Years later when I was 8 years old my mother was cured because of brain surgery and that is when we started to make day trips in summertime as a family but one trip a year. Mostly they were organized bus trips and one of those bus trips took us to Belgium province Wallonia where they have the biggest waterfall of 15 meter tall. The language was French which was difficult for us since no one of us spoke French. The tour guide helped us out with everything. Also you could go in little boats into grottos and see the beautiful art of stalactite formed by nature. It made such an impression on me and I loved it!!! Another time we went to the Ardenne in Belgium which is a very magical forest and spectacular landscapes. We looked at it from a train trip that went through it to Luxembourg. Here they speak 3 languages because Luxembourg is divided in a French part - a German part and a Dutch part. In this city we enjoyed the little cute houses with their red colored roofs and their terraces where we could enjoy our drinks with the speciality of the Luxembourg pastry “Apple Klatzen” and “Appel Kuch. (Apple Tart & Dainty Apple Cake). There was also a castle open to the public and I always loved castles - I grew up between 2 small castles. Of course we visited this beautiful old big castle named: “Grand Ducal Palace” from 1572. Everything inside was still authentic and you could smell the ages it lived through. Most castles have hidden rooms and I thought that was so interesting to hide from the enemy and their way of surviving. What I do remember too is the arsenal of iron weapons they had and also knight’s armor. On the walls they had beautiful hand woven carpets as well as on the rock floors too but that was fenced off to save it from damage. Another year we went to Germany by a bus trip to “Keulen” a big city in Germany where they had a huge church called “The Dom van Keulen '' or in English: “Cologne Cathedral”. You could spend a day just walking around and looking at this old church artwork from the year 1248. Of course my parents paid for an organized round tour that explained every artwork with name and history behind it. I always loved everything like this and it was so much fun to do this as a family what we missed for years but we caught up to it. Cologne was also famous for their open air Christmas market all year long. It was a pleasure to look at the specialized handmade glazed and painted ornaments. I was in awe and wonder like I was walking in a candy store. It was easy for us to understand and speak the German language because my father was half German and we grew up bilingual. We also visited cities in the Netherlands like Maastricht, the oldest city of the Netherlands with still buildings from the year 400 and cobblestones. I do remember a stand outside that made home cut french fries with specialized sour/sweet meat over it and with homemade mayonnaise. If I go back to the Netherlands I will still go to Maastricht to this place that has been a family business for over 70 years and they have a secret recipe. It is not healthy actually but soooo good - I just love it!! My parents saved money during the year for this kind of enjoyment as well as for Christmas. Because my father was the only provider and my mother couldn’t work because of her weak condition. She was already happy to do what she could and taking care of her own kids. My father worked in the coal mine and made extra hours so he could give this to his family. God Bless my father and mother who did a wonderful job as much as possible. We were definitely loved by them. I am grateful for my sweet childhood vacation memories.

When my father left for work in the mine by 7am he made sure that all of us were awake getting ready for school. Our morning classes started from 8:30 -12:15 and the afternoon from 1:00-3:30pm. Our breakfast of sandwiches were ready between 2 plates. My sick mother prepared them the evening before and would get up later in the morning. My oldest sister Marietje had to watch us getting up and dressed and finishing our breakfast with a glass of milk. Then we left walking to school which took us mostly 20 minutes so by 8am we left. The oldest ones had cleaned up everything and our beds were made up too. I was seven years old. We had to leave through the backyard and a fence door which brought us on a sand path. You walked down and made the first left turn which another sand path took us to the front of our street. Then we made a left turn again and at the corner were our first neighbors an elderly couple who lived most inside of their home. The street was named Treebeek Street number 75 in Treebeek. This was a very small coal miners’ town with all the same townhouses for the coal miner families and the more advanced houses with big yards were in another part where the supervisors and managers lived. That was not our street. Our street had small townhouses with big families. Mostly like our family of 6 kids and both parents of a total of 8 persons. Most of us had 3 bedrooms and the big families of 11 children received 5 bedroom housing. It was still too small for most of us. My father made a room on the attic next to the run for his pigeons for my oldest sister when she became a teenager. My other but older sister shared the bed with me in a small back room - the boys had the biggest room that actually was meant for my parents but there were three of them so there were 3 small beds. My parents had a smaller room too in the front of our house and there was hardly any space to walk around. They had a nice cabin with a mirror at least. In the other rooms my father just made shelves with a curtain in front to have our clothing stored up and of course a part where you could hang your clothing. Now walking down the street to school we passed our townhouse with a small yard in front surrounded with small stone brick walls. In the middle we had a small tree surrounded with some grass but below our front window there were pebbles. This is where visitors left their bicycle if they came to visit my sick mother. Next to us lived also an elderly couple and our front doors were close to each other so we saw them sometimes. Of course we were taught to always be polite and ask if we could do something for them. It must be hard for the elderly couples on each side of us because we were six children in small housing and very noisy with the very thin walls. We could hear them when they were talking some loud because of hearing issues so you can imagine what they had to hear from us. Then the next door lived a family with 5 children and a baby on the way. Unfortunately their father was in prison because while he was working extra evening hours in a metal workplace of the coal mine he had stolen goods. We were young and didn’t understand how hard it must be for this family because at that time you didn’t get welfare or any financial support. The mother did all kinds of work she could have her hands on to support her family. For example she took care of our laundry since my mother was too sick and made a little bit of money in this way. Later in life it was explained to me that she was pregnant with the sixth child because once a month he was allowed to come home for the weekend. My parents made sure that we never judged any of them because it was not her or the children’s fault that they were in this situation. Also we needed to stay polite and talk with respect. The kids were poorly dressed but the neighborhood gave them clothing that they could wear and that was not much because everyone had the same low income. I do remember that she was a lovely woman with a heart of gold and showed her gratitude to the neighborhood when the ice cream man came around then if possible she gave each of us the cheapest ice cream. She was also a very dedicated Salvation Army member and at sport events or holidays she was always collecting money for them. Sometimes they were singing at a corner of the street together with more members. The rest of the street were families like us but all had their own religion and I learned at this young age how interesting each religion was. We grew up Catholic but there was a mix of Protestants - Baptists - reformed - Salvation Army and I don’t know anymore about other religions. We Catholics were the only ones that played in the street on Sunday because all of the other religions had strict rules for the Sunday. The rest of the week we played all together in the street - there was a lot of street life in my generation. Everyone went along because parents would punish us if we wouldn’t because nobody wanted to have conflicts with each other. It was a close living neighborhood that helped each other if needed and possible. I have very warm memories about this part of my childhood and it gives me a smile on my face when I think back on it.

It was the year 1969 in April. My older sister of 19 years old worked as a volunteer in a kind of youth clubhouse. In the Netherlands you were allowed to drink alcohol at 16 years old but couldn’t drive a car till you were 21 years old. Since I became 16 years old my parents allowed me to help my sister in the clubhouse by washing the glasses in the bar and they felt better knowing where I was hanging out. There was also good music from the sixties and dancing. I was somewhat shy and enjoyed the music while helping my sister. I was not looking for a boyfriend but there was a guy sitting at the bar who looked bored. He had half long blond hair, a beard with a mustache and beautiful blue eyes with a twinkle in them when he looked at me. He reminded me about a knight tv show called Sir Lancelot and one of the actors named Simeon. OV as a knight. We got to talk about his interest in long distance walks. He signed up for the Kennedy Mars of 80 km (50 miles) within 20 hours in one day and got my attention. He was so passionate about this famous big walk and I enjoyed looking and listening to him. He was a highschool senior also 16 years old and I was at a High School business evening school three nights a week. Because of my mother’s illness I did all the household work in the morning and went in the afternoon to work at the office of the school director. His name was Jack and my name at that time was Anneke. He impressed me with his stories of those walks and somehow he saw my true interest that he invited me to go together on this 80 km walk. Oh wow I loved that gesture but told him that my parents had to approve this and invited him to visit me the next day at home because it was the weekend, so my parents could get a look at him and more likely I would get permission to do this long distance walk. He had a “puch” model moped white colored with a very large steering wheel like they had in the movie “Easy Rider”’ but then on motorcycles. It looked very cool and I felt I had a crush on him. He was the oldest sibling of three in his family and I was the youngest girl of six siblings. He was charming and my parents liked him from the beginning so we got our way and he would pick me up at 4:00AM the following Saturday with his cool moped. At 4:30 AM we could sign in and pay for this walk so by 5:00AM the “Kennedy Mars” would start and Jack was a person that liked the early start. I didn’t have any experience with long distance walking and believe it or not I bought new shoes and used them for the first time and of course my feet protested with blisters. The payment covered the route and 5 stops where there is care of your blisters, free food and hot drinks because mostly this walk is in April and sometimes snowy and cold but it was not be cancelled for any weather conditions. The route went half in the Netherlands and half over hilly Belgium. The night before Jack would pick me up but I hardly slept from the excitement. So I was half sleepy when he picked me up and it was a half hour from our house to the city named Sittard - it was bitter cold that day. Especially that early in the morning but my crush on him overcame all of the discomfort of that day. It was my first time and believe it or not but I walked the whole route with Jack on my side who supported me of course to finish this with him. It rained that day but also the sunshine came out in the afternoon - the hilly part was hard but I did it and when it was not for being with Jack I wouldn’t accomplish it. I had an interesting relationship with Jack for 18 months till he decided to immigrate to Australia with me and we followed some information meetings about what to expect. My parents didn't approve because I was 17 and a half years old and needed their authorization. Shortly after that Jack ended our relationship and left for Australia. He loved to explore the world and so did I. That accomplishment of the long distance walk made me sign up for more Kennedy Marshes and other 4 day evening walks in our area. I went three times to a big 4 day walk called “Nijmegen Four Day Walk” of 40 km a day (25 miles) with bed and breakfast overnights. I loved being together with thousands of people.

When I came to America I never enjoyed a campfire as only I knew what it looked like from tv shows. So when we bought our house in Bethlehem August 29 - 1999 - 25 years ago it was a big surprise for me that there was a small fire pit. Our house is built on top of one the surrounding hills of Bethlehem. A family with 3 children lived before in our house so the fire pit was surrounded by fallen tree stumps where the little ones sat around the fire. It looked so cute to see the little kids with a look of excitement in their eyes. This was what I saw when we had our first appointment to see the house. I immediately fell in love with this feature of having campfires in your own yard. Wow what a freedom I felt, knowing my husband and I came from a small apartment in the oldest City of the Netherlands where we lived before our immigration. The house is the last one in a row on top of the hill and the end of a dead end. So much privacy I was not used to but it felt very good somehow. Once we were settled in our house and the fall came down with the empty trees and the colder temperatures making ready for our fires. We had a wooded area alongside our house and there was enough wood to burn from the fallen trees. With our beginning fires we put potatoes in aluminum foil alongside the fire and my husband liked to cook burgers or hotdogs over the fire with a special metal cooking tool. As dessert we had marshmallows of course - it tasted all so good and much different than to cook on the stove inside your home. We both worked so mostly we used the weekends if the weather was permitted to enjoy this cookout together and with a drink of course. I felt like I was in Heaven to have this luxury so close to home and so private because we don’t bother the neighbors. They actually sometimes came over to enjoy the fire too and took their own drinks and chairs with them. That is how we connected with neighbors and friends we made. When my family came over from the Netherlands to visit us they loved our campfires too and it became a party. I will not say that there are no campfires in the Netherlands but it is rare because the population is very dense and so is the housing. The Netherlands is one third of Pennsylvania but the same amount of population. I do remember friends with little kids came over and my husband let them help to find little sticks that they were allowed to throw in the fire and especially the little boys became out of their minds. They loved some of our trees too for climbing and had lots of fun. Those were very good times to look back and give me a really big smile on my face and a warm feeling in my heart. Nowadays 25 years later we are retired but still enjoy our campfires but in a totally different way. It is only us because the neighborhood changed and everyone is more for themselves and occupied with working their jobs. We have no parties anymore - no food, no drinks as only a bottle of water. The fire pit grew over the years with big stones found in the woods - a size for a big bonfire. In wintertime we have a nice view over the Lehigh Valley and we sit in our chairs covered with a nice cushion on the seat and on our back. We hear all different sounds of animals like foxes, deer, owls, and very strange birds we don’t know about. Nature gives us a feeling of peace and harmony. On cool summer nights we listen to the crickets and katydids and see lightning bugs in late spring. My husband makes the best fires I even never saw on TV in the Netherlands before I came over!!!! The smell and smoke I just fell in love with. I am still happy with our present fires as well as the past ones!!!

It all started when I met my husband on my first vacation trip to the USA in December 1993. We met through friends and at parties we were not so much connected till the night before I had to go back to the Netherlands. It happened to be that we were seated at the table next to each other – we suspected that one of our friends had set this up but never found out. We got engaged in a very interesting discussion about World politics and before we knew it the party was over and I had to leave. We quickly exchanged phone numbers and addresses and promised we would keep in touch with each other. It took a while before we started to write but it felt like we were old friends. After a few months of writing, we felt comfortable enough to make a start with phone calls. A few months later he visited me in the Netherlands and that year in 1994 we visited each other back and forth till we found out that we really loved each other. Somebody had to make a decision to leave their country and that was my husband. At the beginning of 1995 he came over to stay for 3 months because he was not allowed to stay longer by the Holland Dutch law according to the VISA. He was back to the USA for Spring and Summer and now it became serious. September 15, he came back to stay with me for good. We put a request in for marriage so he could stay with me and December 14, 1995 we got married in Maastricht in the ballroom from the time of Napoleon Bonaparte. City hall at that time was in scaffolds and construction so temporarily all the marriages took place in the classic ballroom. That made it a very special experience and never to forget. After 2 years living in Maastricht, the oldest city of the Netherlands with cobblestones and still buildings from the year 400 A.C. We decided to make our move to the USA although I mean for me it was an immigration and for him going back home. My husband had trouble at that time to get an interesting job in the Netherlands because there was high unemployment and mostly the jobs went to the Dutch people. I had an interesting job as a homecare manager and loved my job. I had to think twice if I really wanted to leave my family and my job but from the other side I was interested in a change in my life. Since I was a child, I always wanted to immigrate to Australia – why? I am not even sure but I guess I liked the challenge and the adventure. 2 Now America is not Australia but it is another continent across the ocean and a change of culture. My husband went back to America September 1997 and after 14 days he could give me the call that he got his old job back and they were happy actually having him back. Now I could tell my boss to quit but I had at least to work another month so I worked till the end of October. And the second week of November my husband got back to the Netherlands for 1 week to clean out our apartment and say goodbye to my family. That first week of November I was very busy with packing and giving away stuff to family and friends. I also organized goodbye parties for family and friends in the evening and had a good time although I was very busy of course – no dull moments. Once when my husband arrived, we were really busy getting rid of the big stuff and we needed to do some repair work before we could leave the rental apartment. March 1997 my husband and I were on our way to the American Embassy in Amsterdam when we made a wrong turn in the city. We were lost for a moment and tried to find our way back that would bring us to the embassy. Suddenly I could not believe this but there was standing my first husband, the father of my son and grandfather of my granddaughter. We didn’t see each other for 20 years and I had to look twice to make sure because of course he aged. He was selling newspapers for homeless people and it looked like he was homeless himself. I stopped walking and said to my husband: do you see that man over there? Does he remind you about somebody? My husband could not figure it out so I said look at him and think about my son. He looked at me and said: is this your sons’ father? And I said yes, doesn’t my son look like his father? There was a big line in front of him and I said to my husband I will buy a newspaper and see if he recognizes me so I was standing in the line. When it was my turn, he gave me the newspaper without looking at me but I was not right away giving him the money to force him to give me a look. He looked at me and I said: hi Koos how are you doing? Ankie, he said you look much older and I said well that is what 20 years does to us. I introduced my husband to him and told Koos that we were on our way to the American embassy for the immigration application process to America. Our plan was to leave somewhere in Fall that year. We could not talk that long since there were people behind us in line waiting to buy his newspaper. 3 I found out that he was homeless and said when we would come back from the embassy, we could meet him at a warehouse eating place and talk some more. I never saw him again till 10 years later on his death bed in a nursing home. He didn’t die as a homeless person but as a director of a big house for homeless people in the big city Utrecht. This is another interesting story. Friday, November 14 1997 came and some of my family came along the train trip to the airport in Amsterdam. My son, his girlfriend and our 2-year- old granddaughter– my oldest brother and his wife – my 2 older sisters – my youngest brother. We were packed and we also had our cat Jasper with us in a special sky carrier. The train trip took 2 ½ hours and when we finally arrived, we first had to take care of the cat to check in. When we were all set to go, I suddenly started to sob and felt so depressed for saying goodbye to my family and especially to my little dear granddaughter Mirthe who I knew I would miss her like crazy. I heard my sister-in-law saying to me – why are you crying now? You did so good all the time. It didn’t help me to stop crying and that is how I left the gate to exit the Netherlands. When we arrived in New York Kennedy Airport I was guided to the immigration office where they took all of my fingerprints and I had to sign some papers. Then I received my temporary permanent residence card (Green Card) which would be valid for 1 year. Now it was time to pick up our cat and when that was done, we could leave the airport. Bob, Mike’s friend, was waiting outside with his truck and he would bring us to my husband’s parents’ house in Pennsylvania. The weather was very bad, freezing rain made the roads slippery and for the first time in my life I was involved in a car accident. A woman slammed her car into the side of our truck on the highway. It took hours before everything was set with the police and in the meantime, we were sitting in the car because it was too cold being outside. The rest of our drive went well and closer to my in-laws my husband took over the driving. When we were going down hill my husband said that often down the hill deer were crossing. And yes, unbelievably down the hill close to the road there stood a big buck with beautiful antlers and what was really very special is that steam came out of his nose because it was so cold. 4 My gosh, what an experience and I felt sorry I didn’t have the time to take a photo – that would be so special. We all stayed overnight at my in-laws and the cat was so stressed out but so happy to get out of the carrier and rolled in his litterbox. The next day after breakfast we all left to go to our new place in Vera Cruz. The drive from my in-law’s house to Vera Cruz took 45 minutes and was an experience never to forget. When we came on the backroads, we saw a beautiful scenery of trees and landscape with a thick layer of ice on everything so far, as you could see. The sunshine made it even look like a fairy tale because that made the crystallization so beautiful and I do remember I felt like that was my welcome to America. We all enjoyed this beauty of nature. One of Mike’s friends David had a room in an old farmhouse of 180 years old and there were two rooms available. When we arrived, a friendly young guy named Ray opened the door and greeted us. There was a major power outage because of the bad weather but he had fresh coffee for us on his wood stove. I do remember Ray (has a room and a bedroom) as a guy who loved campfires and burned almost down the smoke kitchen mantel but I loved his big bonfires with a drink along. That first night I met Robin, David’s girlfriend at that time and she took a shoo fly pie along as a welcome for us. This was my first kind of pie and I loved it. We became friends forever still to this day. My 25 years here in America became the happiest years in my life. Monday, November 14, 2022 my husband took a vacation day and we went for the day of this special occasion to Shady Maple in Lancaster and had a good time. We passed the old farmhouse on our way up and back home and looked at it with a smile because that was our very first place together in America 25 years ago!! Now we continue with love and happiness to enjoy our further future here in America!!

Last year in October 2023 my son and I went for the first time on an eight day bus trip to Spain. This was a reward from me for him because he did go over the summer to rehab working on his behavior of substance abuse disorder in Rekken, the Netherlands. We had a great time with such unforgettable memories that still give me a smile on my face. I had a bad cold the day we would have an excursion to the Salvador Dali museum I was longing so badly to see. I was too sick to travel and decided it would be better to stay in my hotel room and told my son to enjoy this trip with the bus group and the tour guide. He didn’t like my suggestion and stayed in the hotel caring for me. He went right away to a pharmacy and explained my symptoms where the pharmacist gave him a cough syrup for me. It was expensive and bitter tasting but it helped miraculously and the next day I felt good enough for an excursion to the “ Dark Madonna” in the hills.I enjoyed my son's care for me which was very unfamiliar since it was always the other way because of his drug addiction. Because of the success of this event for us we decided to book another bustrip for 2024. I asked my son where he would like to go and his answer was: ‘ just choose a warm country mom”. That is how I came to choose for a 10 day bus trip to Italy with almost every day an excursion but my interest was to go to Rome. This was booked in February 2024 but we couldn’t go together because my son relapsed badly in May and I had to cancel him. I looked forward to going to Rome and decided I would go by myself. The bus trip was an organized excursion trip including tour guides and I felt safe with a group of Dutch people. My husband was not so happy about it and somehow concerned about going by myself but I could convince him that I would be safe. My husband is not a traveler and was not interested in going with me. I would first go to the Netherlands for a few days to meet my family which were my highlights of this trip. Then the day came that I was sitting in the bus to Italy and the driver had put the single travelers together and so I came in touch with a very nice woman. She was a few years younger than I was and also retired but as a school teacher. Soon we hit it off and we had many interfaces on a personal level. She lived and worked for the last 40 years in Amsterdam which is in the Northern part of the Netherlands and I come actually from Maastricht the oldest city in the Netherlands and from the far South. There are some differences between the North and the South like in any other country. People in the North are a little bit more straightforward while the people from the South are somewhat shy and introverted. There is a real difference in accents too like the Northern part talks with a grrrrr in the back of their throats and the Southern parts with a very soft gggggg.I had always the feeling that we in the South were behind in any development from medical to educational issues and we were the most Catholic part of the Netherlands. The Northern part was mostly reformed like protestants. Just to mention a few things. But it didn’t bother us in our communication and if we had lived close by I could see that there was a possibility of a nice friendship. The busdriver guided us in the hotels where we stayed for our table seats and that meant that we were not at the same table. It gave us a chance to connect with other people in the group too. I was placed at a table of 6 persons where there were 2 couples, an older single man of 80 years old and I. It was a nice mix I thought and everyone was nice and polite to each other especially in the beginning. We left on a Monday and drove for 2 days in a row with one overnight in the South of Germany. Then we reached the place in Italy called the Toscane area where we would stay all the 7 days. It was a beautiful scenery of hills and valleys, small streets with big curves and all the time when the bus was going from the right to the left and very narrow space I held my breath. These kinds of bus drivers are maniacs or profoundly skilled. Let's stay with the last opinion. On Friday, I felt so sick with a sore throat, coughing a lot, headaches, nose blowing and a fever. Do understand that weeks before my departure I went for a flu shot and covid vaccine but it didn;t help and the days before I was already not feeling well and felt exhausted. It was the day of the excursion to Rome and I couldn’t go and stayed behind in the hotel. Strangely, somehow our whole table didn’t go. My hotel room was above the entrance with a huge balcony and I was fortunate. Of course I saw people going in and out but suddenly an ambulance with high sirens came and parked in front of the entrance. Ran with the brancard inside and maybe 10 minutes later they came out and I saw that the one man of a couple at our table was lying on it and I saw his wife crying and walking behind. They left with high sirens uphill on their way to a hospital 55 miles away. That made a difference on our table and connection for the days to come. One of the excursions I signed up for was a visit to the basilica of St. Francis of Assisi. The first photo is from a crowd of people on the bottom of the baselica. The second photo is taken inside the basilica where I am standing in line to see the shrine of St. Francis of Assisi. From Online: The Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi (Italian: Basilica di San Francesco d'Assisi; Latin: Basilica Sancti Francisci Assisiensis) is the mother church of the Roman Catholic Order of Friars Minor Conventual in Assisi, a town in the Umbria region in central Italy, where Saint Francis was born and died. It is a papal minor basilica and one of the most important places of Christian pilgrimage in Italy. With its accompanying friary, Sacro Convento, the basilica is a distinctive landmark to those approaching Assisi. It has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 2000.The basilica, which was begun in 1228, is built into the side of a hill and comprises two churches (known as the Upper Church and the Lower Church) and a crypt, where the remains of the saint are interred. On 16 July 1228, Francis was canonized by Pope Gregory IX in Assisi, and he laid the foundation stone of the new church the following day, although construction may already have begun. The construction having been begun at his order, the Pope declared the church to be the property of the papacy. The church was designed by Maestro Jacopo Tedesco, who was in those days the most famous architect.[3] The construction was supervised by Brother Elias of Cortona, one of the first followers of Saint Francis and the former Vicar General of the Order under Saint Francis. The Lower Basilica was finished in 1230. On Pentecost 25 May 1230, the remains of Saint Francis were brought in a solemn procession to the Lower Basilica from its temporary burial place in the church of San Giorgio (St. George), now the Basilica of Saint Clare of Assisi. The burial place was concealed for fear that St Francis' remains might be stolen and dispersed. The construction of the Upper Basilica was begun after 1239 and was completed in 1253. Both churches were consecrated by Pope Innocent IV in 1253. Assisi is a pretty unique town as it perfectly combines art, nature, history and religious traditions. It is in fact mostly known to be a pilgrimage destination, due to the plenty of Catholic people, nuns and friars coming from all over the world to visit the birthplace of the founder of the Franciscans. What is Saint Francis of Assisi most famous for? Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone ( c. 1181 – 3 October 1226), known as Francis of Assisi, was an Italian mystic, poet, and Catholic friar who founded the religious order of the Franciscans. Inspired to lead a Christian life of poverty, he became a beggar and itinerant preacher. I didn’t feel any sensation of the shrine or basilica like I did in the Padre Pio Center in Bath, PA USA or the famous Virgin Mary statue located in the Pilgrimage Church in Csíksomlyó, Roemenia in Europe. This is where I felt the presence of these Spirits.

Pat and I have been friends since 1998. We met at Unity of Lehigh Valley church in Emmaus. There was a situation with one of the members that got me in tears and I cried which is very unusual for me. Pat was the only one who came over comforting me and this became the beginning of a long term friendship. Pat was one year older than I and lived with her parents because of her serious health issues. I didn’t have a car available during the week because my husband needed the car for his job. At least I could use the car on the weekend going to church. Pat didn’t have a job and I worked only a few days a week as a receptionist in a local hospital. Pat picked me up with her car on the days I was not working. We liked to walk or go for breakfast or lunch, we enjoyed book studies at the church. Pat got me into jewelry making with seed beads and we followed classes with Gloria at Northampton Community College. She was a great teacher. I made bracelets, earrings and even necklaces with a medicine pouch. They were great gifts and at one time the giftshop of the hospital gave me a chance to sell them. Pat also got me into the first writers class at Northampton Community College with Jerry Waxler. This became the beginning of an interest, to write a book which was actually a dream I had since I was 11 years old. I liked the way Pat described her adventures of her hitchhiking trip to the West with a friend and this was in her teenage years. Her aunt (mother’s sister) lived in California. Pat had a degree from Kutztown University for teaching second graders. She worked for different schools till her physical condition weakened her too much unfortunately. There came a time when she was looking for a place to live on her own. She found this in Historic Bethlehem at the Moraivian housing for people with disabilities of all kinds. I loved her apartment on the first floor which had 2 rooms, a living room with a kitchenette and a bedroom. This building was built in 1745 and most of the wood was from the ship where the Moravians came over to America and Bethlehem. There were very wide wooden stairs like from a ship. You could smell the ages and I loved it because it takes you back in time. All the people who lived in this building were very nice. Everything was close by like the Moravian bookstore, restaurants, the library, and Musikfest in the summer. The Celtic Music Fest in September was Pat’s (actually Patricia) most favorite because her ancestors were Irish. Often we walked to “Donegal Irish restaurant” around the corner on Main Street. Here is where we celebrated our Birthdays and Christmas with the special Irish menu. What we really loved was the Irish bread they baked and was a recipe from the Middle Ages made without yeast. At one time the restaurant offered a baking class for making this bread. Pat was very enthusiastic about it and signed up. I was very interested too but I had to work that evening so Pat promised to teach me this at my house. Weeks later she took all the special ingredients with her and together we made 4 loaves of Irish Bread. It was a success and I am happy till the day of today that she gave me the original receipe. Pat died from cancer on September 28 2022 after years of struggling to survive in a nursing home. We stayed friends till her end and the thought was that I would be with her at her final moments but that didn’t happen. The day that I left to visit my family in the Netherlands after the pandemic she passed away unexpectedly. The hardest part is that I couldn't say goodbye to her because I was in the Netherlands. When I came back home I called the staff and they shared with me that she passed and the room was cleaned out - there was nothing left of her anymore as only my memories. Every year when I make this special Irish bread on st. Patrick’s Day I think of her and feel blessed she was a part of my life.