Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my family and friends.
How do you like my dog?
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my family and friends.
How do you like my dog?
“O, no, I can't eat that all,” I moaned after I was put on a chair right behind a giant turkey. At thanksgiving I was invited by my daughter for dinner and when Janice makes food she means business. I swear the super large beast didn't like me, as it silently observed me like a cat watches a trapped mouse.
One of the nine great-grand-boys running in and out, in and out, in and out - of the house (do kids not walk anymore, or close doors?) sided up to me to say that the turkey was dead. (which comforted me.) I love them all to pieces, though I have a hard time distinguishing between them as they so gloriously look the same. They eat as if there is no tomorrow, even roaming the table after the meal was finished, but then, the food, made by my grand-daughter and in-law-grand-daughters was delicious.
It was so nice to see my son in law, together with his sons, and in-law son, peacefully watch a hockey game, while their women joyfully cleaned up. Thanks Janice, hope to do it all over again, and o, yes, the Canucks won - in a shoot-out.
September seven was the fifth annual Grandparents day at Menno Place, when children and grand-children honoured their forebears by visiting, having fun, and sharing food. The courtyard featured bouncy castles, bubble stations, a dunk tank, a high striker among many other things to keep the kids busy, a photo boot was for lack of room located in the chapel.
Then there were kids, there were kids everywhere having the time of their life! Fun followed them wherever they landed, their fun only interrupted when a single (I asked her), lady towered by on stilts, or they stopped a moment by a centenarian entertaining them with his personalized comical sketches, and then there was this lady with a children's baby carriage that instead of a baby held a beautiful rabbit. Petting was encouraged. O, there were pony rides as well.
Whenever there is a Menno party there is food, good food and plenty of it - ice cream bars offered by young women, for free, and so were the delicious Menno hot dogs of which we had our fill as well. I was accompanied by my daughter Debbi and her husband Allan from Tuscan Arizona, their daughter Megan and husband Justin, and their five year old Georgia.
The courtyard was for a few hours filled with happy people, the happy hours enjoying my family and the friendly crowd around us quickly spend, but for a short while the woes of the world was forgotten. How refreshing.
My wife and I were anxiously waiting in the reception room of the hospital while our daughter was doing her uttermost to give birth to her firstborn. She was having a very hard time, and so was the doctor, who finally consulted a colleague in the hallway and we overheard him saying, “I do not want to loose this one”. They decided to deliver our first grandson Mark by way of Cesarean-section. The post delivery examination showed a defect on the baby's heart, which the doctor decided to rectify in the future.
Forty-one years later that looming undertaking took place, when Mark, who went to the hospital with a broken arm, was told by the physicians there that he needed an operation to replace a defect heart-valve with a mechanical valve and that postponement was out of the question. Henceforth he was transported to a hospital in Vancouver, where the operation was performed. The mechanical valve works like clockwork. I know, because when I put my ear on Mark's chest I heard a ticking like a grandfather clock. Mark told his little son that he is a cyborg now (part human, part machine) but his mother thinks different.
That is what she said - “So, the son with the kind and generous heart, actually had a failing heart. Anyone who knows Mark knows that his heart is not part mechanical and is not arteries from other parts of his chest,but is and always will be – pure gold.” We as a family are extremely thankful. White Mark's mother added “please pray for a complete recovery.”
“Dear Sonia,
I was a shocked hearing it was you for who the bells tolled, Sonia, and not the ones we were concerned about, it is hard to accept that we will not see you here any longer, that your great smile is merely a memory. Not you Sonia, who walked without a cane or walker, and regularly traveled to the city as you loved shopping.
It will be a memory that I stopped at your table every lunch time to chitchat, and everyone there knew it was for you I paused, and when you smiled it was as if you smiled for me.
I remember everyone singing 'happy birthday' to us as we celebrated our birthdays on the same day.
I found you sitting by yourself at the gazebo, where we talked about things that mattered to you, about the hard times you had when you were rejected as a child, about the man who loved you, but too early passed away, about the difficulties you had camping with MS, how embarrassed you felt by taking food to your mouth holding a spoon with both shaking hands.
You helped your friend, who had endured a serious foot operation, by taking the walker to her and helping her her to her room. She will miss you, as our Pavilion family will miss you.
Sonia we will remember you with love. God be with you until we all meet again,
your friend Lex.”
Teaching the old new tricks (by lex)
Old men dozing behind geraniums, once common, has long passed at Menno Place, where young staff women lure the old outside to play boccie, putting, or a walk with her to the lake. One of the enticers is the pleasant Rebecca, a tall beauty who keeps us not only fit with exercising, but tries hard to keep our mind fit as well with a variety of things, like java music club, where every participant is urged to talk about given subjects, sign language, ceramic- painting, to name some, man's and woman's breakfast, ladies tea, where the ladies use dainty cup and saucers, and drink tea with their pinkies up. They really do! The last time pizza and dessert was ordered in, Rebecca surprised us with a nice cloth on the table and had someone pray for a blessing.
She made us remember that 50 years ago the first men set a foot on the moon, and copied that first human imprint on the moon, pasting some on the floor to imitate a moon walk. She always goes the extra mile for us. Rebecca is well traveled and shares her experiences about many countries of the world eagerly with us and we love it. When she recently turned 30, and entered the dining room to make announcements, every one spontaneously applauded her entrance and sang 'happy birthday.'
We are fortunate to have her, lets face it – we are all crazy about her.
We were lying on the freshly cut lawn of the neighbor, watching the sky for the yearly show of the Perseid meteors, like the one that can be seen tonight. This was about 45 years ago and we were a lot younger than I am now. The neighbor was meticulous about his backyard where the rhubarb in his small garden was sweeter than the sweetest apple on his self cultivated four-fruit apple tree. He also brew cider.
We were waiting for the first of the shooting star to flash by on the dark sky, but no star was to be seen, and just when we were getting a bit restless of just lying there, the neighbor showed up with his brew, which we gratefully accepted. We complimented him about the taste which was nearing the sweetness of his rhubarb.
Then one of the neighbors instead of gazing unto the firmament saw himself staring at a woman not his wife, and liking the stars in her eyes tried a neighborly kiss on her, but she, noticing her husband watching, started to scream. Her husband, who stuttered badly, but stronger than any of us, gave the perpetrator a sermon that our dogmatic preacher couldn't have bettered, in spite of his stutter was well understood, and so ended our neighbor star-watching, but we stayed good neighbors.
The second part of Martin's story
“When my wife passed away the funeral home people about asked what clothes they should use for her burial. I knew she had this red dress she really liked and told my granddaughter, who was a great help to me with the arrangements and all that, to take that dress over to the funeral home, which she did. The viewing was held in the church and just before the service I went to see her too,” he swallowed before he continued “for the last time.”
“When I looked at my wife I got the shock of my life. I was horrified to see that they had not dressed in her beautiful red dress, but in a red working dress, my granddaughter had taken the wrong dress to the funeral home. I felt so bad about it, I didn't hear a word of the sermon, all I saw was my wife laying there in her work clothes.”
“So, now we're standing all around the grave site, all the family, the pastor, and everyone in unison saying the articles of faith, except me, as I was still seeing her in her working outfit and thought I heard her scold me. I never in my life felt so bad. I cried, I really did.
My grandson was standing beside me, and you may not believe this either, but he said
“Grandpa, don't cry, I saw Oma in heaven, she was standing like an angel, and she was dressed in a beautiful white dress.”
I hear the strangest stories sometimes.
I hear strange stories from time to time.
Martin used to work on a sawmill in Mission and grew dahlias on his five acres, but lived, like myself, at the Menno Pavilion where we lunched on the same lunch table. The other day he asked me a strange question - “Do you know how old people are in heaven?”
I answered that I didn't have the slightest idea, preparing myself for a more logical reply.
“Thirty four,” he said calmly, bewildering me, and realizing he was deadly earnest I asked him
“Where did you read that?” I thought things had gone far enough but he wasn't finished yet.
“I didn't read about it, and I had a feeling that you wouldn't believe me, but I talked with one who was there,” he said with a hint of hurt in his voice. Martin was a very serious churchgoing
person which threw me off completely.
“Martin,” I said, “stop fooling me, you're talking about heaven, where god abides. Did you talk to that young boy who died and came back to life again, you know the one whose father wrote a book about about all that?”
“No, my grandson told me,” he said quietly. “Whether you believe it or not has nothing to do with it, my grandson told me that he was in heaven and that people there were thirty four years old, and I believe him.”
Strange story, the second part next week.
One of the two chapels on campus.
I decided to attend the campus chapel of Menno Place after an elderly lady assured me of a blessing if I did go, and since I was in need of something positive, because I had I lost a fight with the computer, had painful diabetic foot-soles, and – had lost my key-chain.
To my amazement the blessing started even before I had set a foot in the church, when I slipped in my new black pants which I had worn once only to my daughter's house. I found the lost keys in its pocket.
Sitting in the back row of the chapel I rolled into second blessing as a shapely young staff lady took the seat next to mine. We sang an entire hymn together out of her song book before she ran off to attend an oldster who was dangerously close to falling out of her wheelchair as she had fallen asleep. After the service 'the second blessing' asked if she could introduce me to a recently widowed woman, and of course I said most certainly. This was more than I expected, as the blessings kept rolling in.
She was pleasant-looking, I liked the woman immediately, and when we introduced ourselves discovered that we had met 60 years ago as young people at the BC coast; enthusiastically we shared memories of people and events, until she had to leave – leaving me sort-of interested, sort-of curious, blessed maybe? The next Sunday I went again, this time I had put a tie on - but she never showed up.
Only prairie-mornings can be like this – you know its going to be warm, hot even, but it isn't hot yet, and remnants of cool night-air sneak through the clothing onto your skin.
We walked hand in hand, fantasying about half-naked braves, covered with feathers roaming this fast expanse on swift running horses.
Everything was new to us – our new country Canada was, the prairie was, our walk together as man and wife was, for we were only a few weeks married. I had eyes only for Anne, who wore her white skirt with green polka-dots and loosely over it a green bolero with white polka dots. Then we found this beautiful flower, red and gold in color.
“Don't,” Anne said, “maybe its the only flower living here,” as I was about to pick it for her. I left it and when recently I found a single tiger-lily at my home of Menno Place, I remembered.
Most everything has changed, we left the prairies long ago, and Anne, whose young hand I held in mine lives on in my dreams now, but the lily I found here is as beautiful as the one we found in the prairie – the one we found together.
...we danced the Polonaise 30,000 feet high up, all the way from the north pole to...
I did not have a clue who Alice was when after the service of Second CRC she asked us over for coffee, but her wry smile convinced me to accept her invitation. My wife Anne and I were recent arrivals in Abbotsford then, and were carefully checking out churches before deciding which one to join, however, after 'over for coffee;' which included a lunch of dutch chicken
soup (with mini meatballs) and buns, my mind was made up – we joined Alice's church and from that time on we became friends of Alice and her husband Pete.
Second Church featured two services every Sunday. The second service was held at seven in the evening, which left plenty of time between the services 'to do something,' said Alice, and to do something meant for her to get a get a few couples of friends or relatives together for a drive into the mountains, a park, beach or any other place to climb, walk, sun, explore, or just enjoy each others company, exchange news and have fun together singing while she played her accordion.
She would drag us to a secret hill which literally and figuratively took our breath away as we were stunned by the majesty of a stand of centuries old Douglas firs, or we landed after a steep climb at a plateau somewhere, from where she showed us seven mountains, miles apart from each other. The reason why this was special enough to make the considerable effort to get up there was to show us the slight difference in coloring of these mountains.
'You would think the one farthest away to be the darkest,” she said, “but look,” the mountain closest by had definitely the most pronounced greens of the different trees and vegetation that grew on it, while the one farthest away, way in the distance was so light in color one could barely see its outline. The mountains in between varied slightly in color from the darkest nearby to the lightest way in the distance.
It was not only those extra ordinary wonders she would take us to, she always had something new and interesting to share and her bubbling enthusiasm made you feel that you had to participate in whatever she came up with, but one time she scared the pants off me, when she got me, who has a phobia about flying, as part of a group of some fifty people in an airplane for a trip to the Netherlands.
It was almost the end of nineteen hundreds, the end of the second millennium, and greatly educated people were scared that the year 2000 was going to be catastrophic, computers would seize up, records would be lost, the whole world would be in a chaos. Some had even a problem what the number of the looming year we now call the year 2000 would be. Just before all this brooding the home Frisians invited through an organization called Frisian 2000 the Frisians abroad to come home for a giant reunion.
That set the mind of Alice, who worked for a travel agency at the time, in overdrive and when her brother started his own travel business and asked her to co-partner with him her vision knew no borders. A great many of her friends originated from Fryslân and were still very much emotionally attracted to it, as was Alice herself, being born there and who all of a sudden knew how to speak Frisian (somewhat) whereby she definitely won the hearts of the contacts she made in Fryslân.
To make make friends in the old country was not Alice's only vision, she and her brother were smart enough to understand that good business could be achieved by working with Fryslân 2000, and they worked hard to get as many interested people as possible for a trip to Fryslân. They were able to form a fantastic amount of close to one hundred and fifty people 'ready to fly.'
They managed to sign on the cruise ship Jan Nieveen capable at holding their entire group for the length of the tour, nicely solving the problem of lodging and feeding the large group for the entire tour and to keep them together. The ship sailed from Amsterdam over the Ijsselmeer to Fryslân, after which it would sail through the Fatherland from north to south with several stops to enjoy a variety of entertainment and excursions.
Our group of about fifty participants originated from Abbotsford and was led by Alice, while a larger Ontario group took off from Toronto, led by Alice's brother and co-partner Jake.
Alice definitely put her imprint on our flight. She decorated the aircraft with hundreds of Frisian flags which made the majority of the non-Frisian passengers wonder what was going on, but their wondering changed to bewildering when she started playing Frisian songs on her accordion and the Frisian passengers, used to loud singing, lustily sang whatever songs she fed them. How she managed to get her accordion into the passenger area, I have no idea, but for her there was not such a thing as being impossible.
Alice was no Alice to leave it by singing only, still playing the accordion she rose from her seat and started dancing down the isle toward the cockpit, and like the pied Piper of Hamelin lured the more than willing Frisians to follow her, dancing and singing as they marched behind her to the cockpit, passed by the idle pilots who were by now flying on the automatic pilot, and hossed all the way back to the tail of the airplane. Hossing, which some call the Polonaise, is a dance which was tolerated even by the stern Calvinists (only at weddings) in which the participants, alternating boy and girl, held each other at the waist to form a single line, all the while swaying from one foot to the other in a fast forward motion, and were having a great time.
The hossing in the plane caused tripping and bumping into the seats of baffled passengers and so we danced the Polonaise 30,000 high up, as close to the stratosphere as nature allowed the plane to fly, all the way from the north pole to Ireland, when the plane slowly descended the lofty highs on the way down to earth, where I felt much more comfortable. My father on one of his trips to Canada once said “As soon as we are above the clouds, I feel so good, to be that close to God,” however, I did not share that love with him.
I had loved to participate in dancing the Polonaise, had it taken place 30,000 feet lower, but as I have a healthy fear of flying and was petrified with fear that the plane was going to crash, I sat with my head between the legs, holding onto the seat in a faint attempt to steady the airplane which flew unconcerned on the automatic pilot while Alice and her crowd were having the time of their life. Flying with Alice was never dull. Nothing was ever dull when Alice was in charge, which most often she was.
I have known Alice for more than thirty years, from the time I purchased the first building lot from her on one of the finest spot of south Sumas mountain where Anne and I built our retirement home, we shared the same view of the picturesque Sumas valley with the majestic Mount Baker in the background with Alice and Pete, and later with Alice and Herman Bandstra.
I had breakfast with Alice every Saturday for about twenty years according to her calculations, and over bacon and eggs (special) we talked about things that mattered. I learned there also that leading people and speaking in public was often very hard on her, it kept her awake many nights, although she made it look easy the next day. Alice always appeared to be in control, she possessed a unique and creative business personality, but could be tough with people second guessing her motives, she was generous sharing her wry smile, instead of being a volunteer in church she just did it. Alice showed a strong faith in God, and had a generous and loving heart.
Recently Alice took her last trip to a destination where all us one time will gather with her, in the presence of God the Life Giver, but until I join her there, I will miss her here.
I am missing her dearly.
Not our dog Hobo, but a Husky
… and forgive us our sins as we forgive who sinned against us … - the Lord's prayer
Lately I have been saying goodbye to a lot of stuff that once was worthy to be saved, because sooner or later someone not emotionally attached to it, will dump it in the garbage.
I found some elementary school papers of my children, and among it an English note book of the third grade belonging to my son Len. He had obviously been struggling with the correct spelling of some words, which did not surprise me since he was diagnosed with dyslexia, (a condition affecting reading and writing) but other than being diagnosed with the condition there was no remedy or help for him, simply because very little was known about dyslexia forty years ago.
I read my son's work over from cover to cover and found some interesting things about him and of myself as well. From an early age on Len had thrilled us with his artistic ability, especially drawing. On this particular page he drew a family of cats – Father and Mother cat and five kittens, all according to size, the father being the tallest, the mother (in contrast with our own family) being the heaviest.
That he liked animals I knew – the animals we wound up with as pets 'just followed me' was Len's explanation usually. Strange dogs seemed to trust him, like they did Anne's father, horses not only seemed to like him, they obeyed him, and he was able to rough-house with the wildest dogs, as he did one time when our family went for a car-ride past the Whistler ski area and stopped at a roadside fast-food wagon for ice cream.
Len jumped out of the car and stood face to face with a larger than average Husky watchdog held back by an iron chain. He ran to the dog and started to wrestle him, which the watch-dog seemed to enjoy. The vendor looked at with amazement. “That dog is supposed to watch over my business,” he said dryly, “but your son could take him away in a heartbeat if he wanted.”
But this time he had drawn cats which he had given names, – he named the Father cat Tim, after his friend Tim perhaps, but mother cat did not get a human name and neither did the kittens as he named the mother cat Thinker, I wonder why. Did he think of his teacher as a woman he perceived of doing a good deal of thinking, or was at least one with great knowledge? The kitten imitating Mother's pose got the name Angel cat, while baby Blue Eyes was laying against Mother. Stub was playing with Mother's tail. Odd Cat stood in front of Father with head down and rear up, and Tip was playing with a ball of yarn. They all looked straight at you, an effect which is hard to achieve, even for professionals, I'm told.
Len adorned most all his work with drawings. A next page features storm clouds, a tree bend over by the wind, and a boy watching it all from underneath a haystack. A poem explains it all.
On story days
when the wind is high tall trees are brooms sweeping the sky
they swish their branches in (a) buck(et) of rain and swash and sweep it blue again.
His sisters think that he copied the poem, and likely he did, but still it inspired him to interpret the verse-form into this drawing-form. He did not get a star for his effort; Len received very few stars, that is why he drew his own stars sometimes. I still hope that it was his poem, a person leaves so little behind in life. The next page shows a man. On top of it he wrote 'daddy Smid.' My hair is longer there than it is now, my beard is too, and full. I had a paunch then as well.
Coming to the last pages his printing becomes sloppy and the spelling mistakes more frequent - 'Janet was skaired because she thoot the calf was the bol.'
He had changed teachers.
This teacher made him read an essay, of which he had answered the questions only with 'yes' and 'no,' and 'see page 163,' before the class. While Len struggled with it, the class and the teacher were snickering, humiliating him deeply.
I only heard that story from his friends after Len had died, also that he had gotten the strap from that teacher for throwing his notebook into the teacher's face. We did not know this because our son did not tell us, and neither did the teacher inform us. Did Len keep quiet because my wife and I were friends with that teacher and his wife? We'll never know.
When I had finished that notebook from cover to cover, all sorts of feelings wrestled within me – feelings of hurt and pain, of resentment, and of love, yes, a fast amount of love and compassion for our son. Feelings of long ago - almost, but never quite, forgotten.
I have always been and still am immensely proud of our son Len, who was so like his grandfather - a great marksman and horseman, a friend of dogs, horses, and people, and Len was, in common with his sisters, a lover of art, which he received from his mother.
Still, 40 years later, I still struggle with that last part of the Lord's prayer – as we forgive...
“O, my son Absalom! My son. My son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you – O Absalom, my son, my son!” 2 Sam. 18:33
Time for bed - Debbi, Len and Janice
When Anne gave our first and only son the names Leonard Hendrik, the nurses of Grace hospital in Vancouver enthusiastically approved, as they had called him a little lion right at birth. Len, as he was called for short was a lady-killer before he could open his eyes.
He proved to be an easy baby as he just did not cry, which we lauded at first, but scared us later thinking that perhaps something might be wrong with him, but the doctor reassured Anne that nothing was wrong about him and eventually he would cry as well.
“Be happy that you have one like like that, millions of mothers envy you.” The doctor was right Len would cry after a while but he cried only tears and no sounds. We were uncomfortable with that too, but when he did make sounds and talked he used long words and words that we never used.
The first word I heard of him when our family, then living in Richmond across the Fraser river from Vancouver. When we drove over the old Fraser bridge, he looked down and said very clear – 'Water.'
From then on he talked but often words like the Latin name of a monkey tree like tree, whose name I can not recall, but the did not have pain so it seemed at least he did not cry out.
On Fridays I took him often with me to a bank I Vancouver to cash my pay check. Next to the bank was a small Italian restaurant where we ordered coffee for me and chocolate milk for Len. And of course a delicious piece of apple pie. The mama running the place liked Len and took him to her secret place where she made all her goodies, she made Len carry the pie to our table, praising him in Italian-English for his diligence, and for 'his good lookse,' which one day was going some girl very happy.
I built a platform in a tree at every house we lived in, so Len could safely built his tree-house, -fort, or what structure his imagination came up with, as his creative mind knew no borders. By building in a tree I kept him from hammering nails in floors of structures I was building, like the floor of a house we were constructing next door. His greatest joy was when a concrete-truck driver, who apparently remembered his own yearnings when he was a pre-schooler, asked Len to come along in the truck, set him on his knee and let him chauffeur that monster machine for a little way. His face radianced the same as when he scored his first soccer goal.
He made a friend of our doctor's son of the same age and together they explored the the decreasing green acres of the area which was doomed to lose its virgin state, but where they still found pails full of frogs of all sizes which they, after showing them off, and thereby terrorizing mothers and sisters, dutifully took back where they had found them, but not before they walked with their pails of plunder underneath the horse which happened to graze in their path. Len and his friend had a great life in the still mainly rural area.
When winter snow made a wonderland by coloring everything from mainly green to white, Len's sisters were involved in a snowball fight with some neighbor boys, which they were losing. Len's mind sought ways to rectify this. He loaded his Christmas gift, a little four wheel wagon, full with self made snowballs and supplied his sisters with them, who by this action made the boys surrender.
He used that wagon for another, embarrassing, purpose as well, embarrassing at least for me, being his father, although I was amazed at his resourcefulness. He was allowed to take some empty soft drink bottles to the local corner store a block away from our house and spend the few pennies they reimbursed him at the same store for some candies, but I saw him come back with his wagon loaded with more bottles than he had sold and decided to follow his actions. He returned with his wagon load to the same store, made his transaction, and went straight for the rear of the store where the 'empties' were stored and loaded his little wagon again obviously getting ready for the next transaction. He thus made it his enterprise to sell the storekeeper his own ware.
Not far from the same was a barber located where I had my hair cut and waiting my turn was reading a magazine to pass the time when came into the shop looked at the magazine in my hands then looked at me and loud enough for all to hear informed me “That is Playboy, dad.”
He said it not in a disapproving way but in fact he caught me reading a girly magazine and I wondered where he, not able to read since he didn't go to school yet, got the knowledge to check my literature and by stating it to my face certainly did not make me feel good.
Why I tell these stories about my son who died a violent dead in a car accident forty years ago? I think it is because the pain of 'losing' him has lasted its forty years, a pain somewhat described by king David in the bible, who lost his son Absolom in a violent and cruel manner as he cries 'O, my son Absolom, my son! If only I had died instead of you.”
O Len, my son...
I had an opportunity to sing a traditional dutch song with a Menno Place old men's Christmas choir past advent in five different locations at the Menno Place campus, thereby covering the entire 700 residents. I was made a tenor by the choir director but knew I was not much help to the choir as I don't read notes. I asked if I could sing something in the Dutch language, since many people from the Netherlands live at Menno Place.
I suggested a solo of a song which is sung in most dutch protestants churches and which I have been singing since childhood at Christmas and they graciously allowed me. Several people taped the event and a dear friend taped the entire song and shared it with me on face book. The song is called, in the English language, Glory to God and is literally taken from the angels as they song of the coming of the son of god on earth. In the old Dutch bibles it is recorded as Ere zij god.
The last time we as a choir performed was in the Menno hospital chapel which was filled. I saw a former church friend, who now lives in the residential care facility of Menno place was in attendance together with his wife and when the director gave me sign to come to the front I dedicated the song to them.
As I always hold on to my walker I had put a cap I received from a dear lady in the Netherlands on my walker, my thoughts were with several people I dearly loved – my brother John who I took with me when he was barely eighteen years old, and who recently died, my dear wife, my only son, my only sister, among the many friends and relatives who passed away, but also on the many people still alive, the beautiful young women who like sisters are tending to me, the many friends I made of the residents and staff of Menno place, especially the lady who shone the light of her camera in my eyes as she stood filming my entire song, the lady from Fryslân who sent me the Frisian cap and kept me younger than I am, well, anyways somewhat younger, the ladies keeping me in shape by exercising my old bones, the coffee shop ladies, funny that they are all ladies.
Some people know that I for years struggled with praying to god. Well, when I stood there glorifying god in front of all those people, those I loved and who love me, I just about lost it and got emotional. I finally did talk to god. And cried. I was unable to sing the last Amen, I sang the first syllable A, but our pianist Esther, played the last ...men.
Anne sent me this letter -
GLORY TO GOD!
Henk has been a resident at Menno Hospital, a residential care facility, for nine months now. This is the first Christmas season that we are living apart. It feels strange but considering Henk's deteriorating health we have accepted that this is the best option. We would be lying if we did not say that it has been a huge transition for both of us. It has been challenging!
It is difficult to have a meaningful conversation with Henk but we know that the Lord is with us, leading and guiding also in this situation. His grace is sufficient!
Recently we were blessed by a gentleman, Lex Smid, who is also a member of our church. Lex lives in one of the apartments at Menno Place and together with 12 other gentlemen residing in the apartments they formed a Christmas Men's Choir directed by one of the chaplains of Menno Place. On December 19 they performed for the residents and guests of Menno Hospital.
Prior to the performance, there was a buzz in the air that one of the choir members was going to sing a Dutch song. Unknown to us Lex sang a solo: “Ere zij God!” which translated to to English is: “Glory to God!” When Lex introduced the song, he surprised us by saying that he was singing it for Henk and I. As Lex started to sing Henk mouthed the the words to the first line! This was very touching as it is often hard to know how aware Henk is of his surroundings. I continued to softly sing the words of the song in Dutch to Henk as Lex continued to sing. Not wanting to alienate those who do not the Dutch language, I sing this song in English but is was very special for Henk to it in the language of his youth.
Thank you Lex, for sharing this majestic song with us and the other residents of Menno Hospital.
Thank you to our church family who continue to walk beside us on this journey of living with the effects of Parkinson's and Dementia.
“Glory to God in the highest!....Peace on earth to the people whom God delights in.”
Anne and Henk Oenema
Baker Arie was a bear-sized man with hands like shovels, when he shook hands with you on Sunday-morning before the church-service, which he used to do with a wicked smile on his face, the poor recipient would feel it for a week. Women, known to be smarter than men, didn't come near him fearing his bone-crushing brotherly hugs.
Baker Arie was not a mean man, on the contrary, he was a very nice man, the only thing was, he was so inconceivable strong in his hands, which was likely because of the dough-kneading he did all his life. By hand, of course. No kneading by machine for baker Arie, such as were used in bread-factories of America, where they likely never had seen wholesome bread, by golly, he'd take a loaf of that white factory bread in his large hand and easily squeeze it back into where it was made of - a ball of substandard dough.
Arie stood out as a big and strong teenager already in the Netherlands, where he was born,but even more because of his full tenor voice, no one had trouble hearing him as the congregation sang the psalms of David, slow, but uplift. And loud. Sometimes, when he was in the mood, and the congregation sang a particular uplifting psalm, he sang the boven-stem above the singing of the congregation.*note – check boven-stem on Google.
He loved to sing in church but even more when he peddled a bakfiets (tree-wheeler) loaded with loaves of bread through the fields in the country, vending his father's wholewheat bread to the working families, and milk-bread to the farmers. He sang his heart out going from farm to farm, mostly religious but also more folksy songs, people hearing from way far away over the flat meadow country enjoyed his singing and songs, he sometimes sang so lusty that he forgot to bike and just stood still in the middle of the road.
It was tradition in our churches to sing the 'angel song' every Christmas morning at the end of the Christmas-morning church-service, I remember after the dominee dismissed the congregation with the usual blessing, the congregation as one stood on their feet, making a clattering noise when some fifty pairs of wooden clogs hit the floor, like a prelude to the long awaited song. The organist hit the tone height, held it for two long seconds, (at which time he threw open all the registers) and then the congregation broke forth singing the old angel-song, held back for a year, for this was the only time that the congregation instead of singing the the usual psalms of David sang the song of the angels at the birth of the Son of God. The congregation then joyfully shouted
'Ere zij God, Glory to God,
In de hoge, In the highest!
Vrede op aarde, Peace on the earth
In the mensen, In the people
Een welbehagen. A great pleasure
Amen. Amen
'Ere zij God' is taken from Lucas 2:14, when a multitude of angels praise God with the words of this song after one of the angels had announced the birth of the Jesus to the shepherds.
When Arie as a newlywed emigrated to Canada in the early 1950's he continued singing in church of his new congregation and was loved there because of his baking and equally because of his singing. The tradition of singing Ere zij God at Christmas had come along with him when he landed in Canada, however after a few generations his offspring wanted to quit the tradition, not because of the song but of the language it was written in - Dutch. Some preachers, without roots in the old country were not so secretly supporting that idea and sometimes tried helping it along by 'forgetting to mention' it on the bulletin.
A former minister of our church who 'forgot' about the tradition after delivering his Christmas sermon tramped, as was his tradition, straight for the outside entrance to shake hands with his flock as they filed past him, except that not a soul moved. After a few anxious moments one brave woman started to sing the first chant of the disputed song 'Ere zij God.'
The organ joined the brave woman immediately, the congregation relieved, followed. The pastor halfhearted at first joined in as well, according to some of the congregationists who had been warming the last bench in the church. 'And yes, he had sang it even in the Dutch language even though he did not master that language.
The writing was on the wall, the tradition was saved but hung by a thread, and more changes invaded the church - the introduction of a piano, a worldly instrument, and if that was not enough all of a sudden a electric shrill sounding mini organ was squeezed in on the platform around the pulpit. An overhead screen was installed on which the to singing psalms were written, making the new expensive songbooks that had come with a new pastor as very necessary, unnecessary, and were demoted to decoration, and songs not having anything to do with David's compositions were introduced.
Still several things too Dutch for some to have a place in the now Canadian church, were put on non activity, one being church-organ. That grand musical instrument had to make place for a piano, which after some time got replaced by a fellow playing a guitar. The psalms of David were replaced by chants on an overhead screen. A worship committee sprung up (not voted on by the congregation,) deeming it necessary to get a small version of a house organ to accompany the piano.
Our baker, retired now, had finally become an elder, and during a consistory-meeting told the preacher in no uncertain words to get rid of the last acquired instrument 'because I hate it.' The baker with the powerful hands was the last hope for people, who were not comfortable with all the changes to be a bulwark against the tsunami of shift racing against their church. The old baker now being called conservative, tried to stop the 'mad slide' of the church as he called it, but even he proved powerless.
“It's not an organ, it's not an piano,” he protested, “all it is, is some sort of a tingle-tangle, only fit for the scrapheap,” still strong he had the pastor in an arm-lock, while coming down the stairs of the old consistory room complaining about 'the piece of junk' but - the tingle-tangle stayed.
Then one sunny, hot, summer day the old baker passed away.
“Even the strong ones fall,” the liberal preacher said in his funeral sermon. The church was packed, heating the church building considerable. The fans were whirling at top speed while doors and windows were opened wide, still the heat was scarcely bearable, however, according to some conservative members the message of the liberal preacher had been kind to the departed, which was at least something positive on this hot day, one of them remarked.
When after the service the baker was carried to the open front door by members of his large family, a peculiar sound drifted over the congregation, who had fallen in step behind the family on the way out, but thus far no one had paid heed to the unfamiliar sound, as every one was anxious for some cool air, but when the sound sank in they realized that it was the sound of someone playing - the tingle-tangle? Without the support of the piano? And they were stunned when they recognized what was being played on the little tingle-tangle. Ere zij God? On a funeral? And in the middle of a hot summer?
The entire congregation, after some bewildering moments, caught on fast, singing their hearts out, being led by a granddaughter of our deceased baker doing the playing. After the last Amen of the Christmas angel song they were united in their thought how appropriate it was to honor their departed baker by singing Ere zij God.
Had the baker himself been able to hear his granddaughter play that day, I think, he might've said
"Well, I'll be darned, Ere zij God on the tingle-tangle? That granddaughter of mine has guts to play in this heat, she is going places yet. Yes sir, I always knew."
He was that way.
I live in an old-age home where I meet people from all over the world telling me of the meaningful customs they enjoyed in their former homelands, and feel envious, because the only custom we observed was the singing of the angel song after the worship service on Christmas-day.
At that time it was enough.
Two weeks ago I joined a Mennonite male Christmas choir made up of seniors like me in their 80ies and 90ies, who sing surprisingly well, they sing bass, melody, and tenor. I was assigned a place as tenor. My voice is OK, but I cannot read notes, so, as I was useless to help the choir in that position, I asked to sing a solo. We will be singing Christmas songs five times on the Menno Home campus. We sang in the Pavilion where I live and the Primrose gardens, next week at the Terrace, a week after that in the Menno Home chapel with a Christmas pageant, and the Wednesday after at the Menno Hospital chapel, thus covering all 700 Menno Place residents.
500 years ago Reformed people killed Mennonites! now we sing together, my granddaughter married one. Good things happen.
Merry Christmas to all of you and a happy new year from Menno Place, my home.
O, my solo? Ere zij God - in Dutch.
Len
I believe that the life in everyone is from God. God provides life to newborn babies and when that baby eventual dies, that life returns to God. In that way, though a person dies, his life lives forever. This applies to all life in everything that is living. It took me a lifetime to understand this.
Anne, my wife was trained by the government in the Netherlands to help distressed and tired women, who advised her after they heard Anne was going to get married and move to Canada, to refrain from having children for a few years because she was so young yet. Since we believed they had the best in mind for her, we decided not to be parents for a while after we were married, but still wanted sex.
We sincerely tried and for a while used what was then called the 'catholic system of having sex' - to have intercourse only on days when Anne was infertile, which had to be calculated by using the calendar and since Anne was very regular, that worked – for quite a while, though too long for the family in the Netherlands, because we received a letter from an uncle in Holland asking when that baby was going to show up, or, if we needed uncle to come over to give Lex some instructions.
Uncle Johannes was not needed, Janice was born about two years after our wedding, and two years later appeared our second daughter, Deborah. Those two lovely girl were enough for us, especially since we had a boarder in our house as long as we were married, but our knowledge about sex had not much increased, so we tried that frustrating way of desiring sexual activity without pregnancy again.
One night Anne was not sure if the time was right for our activity and checked the calendar in the kitchen, from where she shortly after happily returned with the OK-sign. The next morning she was shocked to find the wrong month showing on the calendar. Though we were hoping for negative results, Anne was sure that the thing 'not hoped for' at that time, was going to be, as 'in our family one only has to look at us and we are pregnant,' and she was right – number three was on the way. Anne had consulted the wrong page (with wrong month) on the calendar. It appeared that our sweet oldest daughter had ripped a page off the calendar, showing that actions taken by us not always resulted in the desired results.
The nurses tending Anne ooh-ed and aah-ed about the newborn – 'he looks like a young lion,'
and when we named him Leonard, Len, as we called him, they wholeheartedly approved.
“He even looks like a little lion,” one remarked.
Len, as a baby, never cried, which did concern us after awhile, isn't a baby supposed to cry?
Anne consulted the doctor about this, who laughed and congratulating her, said 'Anne, you hold the perfect baby boy in your arms.'
What concerned us even more was that he did not make any sounds, not even when he was at the age he should start talking, but then one time, when we went out for a drive on #5 road in Richmond and passed over the the old Fraser river bridge, long since gone, he looked down and surprised me by clearly saying 'water,' and from that day on he talked, not much but to our utter surprise he not only talked but said difficult words we not normally used, for instance I took him often with me in the truck to the city where we passed some front-yards growing monkey trees, having of course a Latin name as well, which I forgot. Len's eyes hooked onto them calling out the Latin name, once he heard something he did not forget it.
One time when I came home from work, without looking up from what he was doing, he welcomed me by calling out 'Hi dad,' for the first time. What a happy welcome.
At every house we lived in I started a tree-house, which Len then altered, added a story onto it, demolished all or part of it and enjoyed himself working out his own creation, he was never bored. Once a month I took him with me to the bank and after the two of us party-ed at an Italian coffee- house where the proprietress, a voluptuous grandmother took him with her in the kitchen helping her carry out our orders – a giant piece of apple pie for each of us, coffee for me and chocolate milk for Len.
We had no problem getting him to school, where he met his buddies, which he missed in our own household, as we received only one boy with our three daughters, but Len with his great memory had problems keeping up with his classmates, and for the first time in his busy life was bored. To fill time he sharpened his pencil, he sharpened and sharpened until the pencil was gone. And then he sharpened another one. And another. He came home with a note asking for for one of us to see his teacher. Anne went and was told that her son had destroyed school property. The teacher, very punctual, had already made up a sales slip – so many pencils at so much a pencil.
Anne never told me where he could stick that slip, but took Len to our up-to-date doctor who was as skillful as he was wise, and referred her to the only specialist at that time in Vancouver seeing children with dyslexia.
“Your child is a typical dyslexic,” was the specialists diagnosis, “very intellectual but his brain refuses to act the way the majority of his classmates does, and there is, so far, little to cure that condition.”
He went on to say that many people with dyslexia had overcome the handicap to raise far above doctors and specialist, like Einstein one of the greatest scientist, which didn't impress Len much, but when he heard the name Leonardo da Vinci added to the list, he said 'that's my name' and I knew that he would never forget da Vinci.
We had kept the tradition of bible reading after the evening meal in our family and afterwards we discussed about what had been was read, and I was surprised that Len remembered so much, one time I ask him if he heard a certain part right and looked it up – he was right.
I took it very hard when my mother died only two weeks into her vacation in Canada. I returned with my father back to Holland to take mom's body home. Anne was going to follow with our four children, and two weeks later when when they were ready to leave for the airport they couldn't find Len, he had taken off with a friend. I don't know how they finally found him, but he made the plane in time.
Once in Holland, he had a great time with Anne's brother Henk, who took him to the field and let him drive a tractor. Forgotten was the school with reading and writing, which Len was not able to muster, the fresh Dutch weather combined with the care of his uncle Henk gave him the the time of his life.
My father wanted to show Len the heather-fields in which he had grown up in so I drove him and Len over to his familiar heather fields. It was hot and after a fair walk father was tired. He wanted to to take a nap, right there, in the heather-fields, as they used to do during lunch time in the olden days when they were clearing the heather from the land to make it suitable for farm land.
Laying himself comfortably on his back on the warm sand of an old rabbit pathway through the heather, he soon slumbered away, my son and I were sitting nearby the softly snoring old man (who at that time was not even 65, come to think of.) Len, being bored busied around, too loud and irritating for my father, who, half asleep told Len to 'go catch a rabbit for goodness sake,' Len took off and the quiet of the heather-field returned, but not for long, as we heard Len cry “I got one!
We were astounded to see Len turn up holding a rabbit against his chest as if it was a pet dog and my father, huffy to miss his nap, shook his head and crawled onto his feet
“My grandfather used to shoot rabbits with a gun,” he said, “and my father as a teenager snared them and landed in jail for it, but my grandson beats them both, as he catches them by hand.”
Len, looking for a rabbit
What happened after the fire.
One of the houses we built in our sub-division was for a banker who was recently transferred to another town and when he put his house up for sale, I bought it from back from him.
Debbi, Len and I moved into it. It did have a sauna, as well, but of course no furniture. We had no furniture, no clothes, no food, no beds, we had nothing whatever any normal household has. How we got all the stuff we lacked I do not know anymore. All I know that Deb and I bought pots with flower plants, lots of them, so at least we had something to look at.
Against the advice of the pastor to call Anne, who was in the Netherlands with my two other daughters visiting both of our families I did not call to tell her that our house had burned down because I did not want to spoil her holidays. We now had a place to stay until the time we were able to rebuild another house on top of the old foundation, but how we purchased beds and furniture I forgot. Our architect however, was working on a design of another house to be put on top of the old foundation.
Of course some of these plans were not foolproof –
Because the news of our house-burning was widely published in the newspapers she would not be able to keep quiet about it, therefore I decided to tell Anne. Whinny, a friend of daughter Janice got it in her mind to go to Europe and start by meeting Janice in the Netherlands. That was all fine if only she wasn't such a tattler, then I called Anne in Holland.
Anne answered.
“So, what's new in Canada?”
“Well, we had a bit of trouble here.”
“Did the house burn down.” ?? Her answer shocked me but was not entirely a surprise as Anne has dumbfounded me before that way as if she had a special awareness.
“Yes, it did.”
“Debbi?” her voice wavered. Why not Len, I thought but Anne saw Len, like her father, as survivors. She told me once what her thoughts were about Len when we spoke of his disadvantages, being aware of his difficulties of learning because he was found dyslectic.
“Believe me,” she said, “if we ever should get a war, or a famine in this country, Len would see to it that we would have food. In that he is like you.” That was quite a compliment, but I did my best during the hungry thirties and even long afterwards things for my parents which I never saw done by my friends or siblings. Anne loved Len because he was a doer like her father and his forebears, who where Len's forebears as well of course.
“We are all OK.” I didn't know what else to say.
”I had a feeling about this, we had it too good. I will be coming home right away.”
“Don't hurry, I only told you because Whinny is coming to see Janice and she knows.”
“Is everything gone?”
“Everything.” I couldn't believe that we talked so calmly about our destroyed house for goodness sake!!
“You know Lex, we have said so many times that we don't care of earthly goods, I think that this may be a test.” We were quiet again and I thought 'here we go again paying good money to the telephone company for not talking.'
When Anne started again, I heard by her trembling voice that she was getting emotional. “There is one thing that I will miss.”
“What is that.”
“Opoe's potje.”
On one of her trips to the Netherlands Anne got an old Cologne (Keulen) pot which her grandmother used for brown sugar. As a toddler Anne got a tea spoon, which was less than half the size of a Canadian one, of brown sugar from grandma when she visited her.
“I guess, I will miss my mother's antique Delft blue plate,” I said. Anne did not answer, I knew that the old sugar pot meant much to her as it reminded her of her infant years and also of her opoe, who adored her and she her grandmother. I missed my mother's plate too, but not nearly as much as Anne missed the old earthen sugar pot she called 'Opoe's potje'.
I don't know if Anne was thinking about anything else but I know for sure that even if she didn't think of anything else, the finest house we ever had, with the most unique furnishings we would ever possess again, was lost and would never be replaced. Our old piano with the finest sound, made in 1898, was eventually replaced by a Japanese combination organ-piano, but in value and sound did not nearly equal the destroyed one.
Anne had a series of prints on one wall of the old village where we lived, produced by a local artist, from who Anne received her first drawing lessons. A knitting machine we purchased during a holiday in Europe, including a wall of wool, as Anne was going into business making knitted products, but instead became pregnant with our only son Len, who was a lot of work.
A corner TV, first of its kind. A music player, all first class. Am I beginning to brag? I will stop then, but not before saying that we were on top of the world financially, health-wise, and we lived most luxuriously in that great house with so many wonderful new idea's imbued.
Janice and Erwin, happy grandparents
The Froese's place was a friendly looking farmhouse about half a mile down the slough from my house, smaller than ours but comparison was not possible anymore as my house was totally destroyed by now. I was greeted by a wide smiling women not quite my age who cheerfully welcomed me in inside, where a delicious odor filled the large kitchen.
“I am cooking up a mesh of pork-chops,” she said as if the aroma needed to be explained,
“I hear your children are eating with us, or you must have other plans,” there was definitely no need to twist my arm to stay for supper.
“You better go in the tub first though,” she said, while tending to the rest of the meal.
“Throw your dirty clothes through the door so I can wash them.” What a woman, I thought.
Their bathroom was like we drooled about when we arrived in Canada, a five feet long tub at the end of the 'room,' next to it on one wall a toilet and next to that a sink. The room was exactly 5'X8'.
I undressed, opened the door a crack and dropped – all my clothes outside. Here I stood, naked as a newborn baby in a stranger's house, alone with the wife of a man I hardly knew.
A very attractive woman who seemed to like me.
A myriad of thoughts whirled through my mind, thoughts about loss, what to do, where to sleep, about the nice woman Lee, about my children, about what to tell my wife or not to tell her, and again about Lee, anything. When the tub had enough water to my liking I let myself glide into it. I took a long bath, which I had not taken for ages, since I normally showered in our double shower in which Anne and I sometimes showered together.
I really felt refreshed when I stepped out of the tub and timidly asked Lee through a crack of the door “What am I going to do now?”
“Try Hugo's bathrobe, I have a nice drink waiting for you.” So his name was Hugo, I thought, but Hugo was much slimmer than I and his garment not nearly covered me.
“Turn it back to front, your clothes are not dry yet.”
I followed Lee's advice hoping all men looked somewhat the same from the rear.
The drink Lee had made for us was my favorite - Scotch with water. It went down as smooth as a salted herring into a Dutchman. I felt more and more comfortable sitting in Hugo's chair. Were we celebrating the burning of my house? Of course not, it was a reaction of a day full of emotions for me and a compassionate gesture of Lee to a neighbor who was from then on a friend. And then her husband Hugo came through the door.
I have no idea what Lee's husband was thinking to see me in his chair, his robe somewhat covering me, having a drink with his wife, since he did not know me either. In any case Lee invited the rest to the table and then I finally discovered how great a cook Lee was by tasting it. The meal was delicious and I forgot to call the insurance company. At the end of the meal the pastor of our church knocked on the door and Lee with a restraint smile directed me to the door.
The pastor seeing me in Hugo's attire was wise to excuse himself 'I have my wife with me in the car,' and he was going to come back some other time. He advised me to immediately call my my wife in Holland about the terrible news, which I forthright rejected because I did not want half of my family in Holland have their holidays spoiled. Later Debbie and Len slept at the Froese' place while I slept in the basement of a former neighbor.
A builder of houses I was a homeless person.
The following morning after a sleepless night I finally called our insurance agent.
“Bert, I like to know how much insurance we have on own place in Ladner.”
“OK, Lex, give me a minute,” it took long before Bert came back with the answer, I got antsy. The five minutes waiting seemed like an hour, but then someone picked up the phone.
“Still there Lex?” Where do you think I am for goodness sake. This is life and death for me.
“Just let me check this file Lex,” by this time I am so scared, I can hardly breath.
“I got it right here mm mm, ya, it's under Anne's name, do you know that?” Tell me how much.
“The house, under Anne's name, is insured for $165.000, and half of that amount is for the contents, is that all I can do for you?”
“Start counting Bert, there is no house anymore.”
A few years earlier I found a 200 meter deep lot in Ladner which was listed by an out of town real estate agent, which was important, because these non local agents were not always knowledgeable about the value of the property they had for sale. The property was 66 feet or about 20 meter wide, thus a very large lot, compared to a normal 20 x 30 feet lot, which was worth about $8,000 then. This lot large lot was priced at $10,000, I offered $ 8,000, and got it for that price. As I decided not to build on it right away I put the lot in Anne's name.
Only four weeks later a salesman offered me $14,000. for the lot, which would make a handy profit for me of $6,000 for not doing anything and I told the salesman to write up a sales-contract, and happily told Anne of that fortunate deal. Anne asked, now that her name was on the property if she was the one to sign the sales documents for the resale and when I said that she of course was the one to sign these documents, she said that she liked the property very much and did not want to part with it.
She made it perfectly clear that she was not going to sign the documents
“We always said that we did not care about making money as our goal in life. I like this piece of land, and now that I own it I want to keep it, I hope you understand.” There went my easy profit. Little did I know then that one day soon she would repeat that statement.
The house was build and burned in 1977 and I was able to build a house on the existing foundation for the insurance money at that time, but a house like the one that burned we never got back.
The entrance of the burnt house. Lex, Anne, Hobo and Jackie
It was as unreal an experience, as it was terrifying, to see our house burn. My mind was too slow to catch up, my actions robotic and inside a fog.
Debbi, my 16 year old daughter just before the fire with the coverall in which she escaped
Saturday-morning.
An ordinary Saturday morning without a wife, when you have to do everything yourself. My wife Anne and our youngest daughter Jacki had joined our first-born daughter Janice who was holidaying in Europe, after her high-school graduation. Daughter Debbi persuaded me the night before to clean our own house instead of helping us moving, as was the plan, my brother Sidney and his household who were moving to Langley. I didn't see the need for cleaning our new house but figured that she had her reasons and in truth she had, because she had harnessed loads of green beans out of our garden and with some help, from who I forgot, but it wasn't me, had cooked them, put them in plastic bags and deposit them in our freezer.
My son Len and I drove the short trip silently to my brother's house leaving Deb home, in bed. We immediately ran into difficulties. Sid was wrestling with a refrigerator too large to fit through the door opening in the basement. 'How did you get that thing in here.' I asked. He explained that he had taken the lid off the fridge and moving it in sideways it fit just through the door. Let's take the lid off then, I suggested and that's where the problem appeared to be because Sid had taken his tools to the other house already, which made me wanting to say 'how come you can be so dumb...' but I myself had taken my own tools out of the truck as well and so was forced to go home to get a screwdriver, a lousy screwdriver. I was far from happy.
The second story of our house was connected to a free standing large garage by two heavy 4x14 inch beams carrying a platform from which an six feet wide stairway from the entrance traveled down to the ground walkway. The first floor of the house contained a double bedroom for Janice and Debbi on one side and my office, washroom and Len's bedroom on the other side. The upstairs held the kitchen, dining, and living room, the master bathroom and Jacki's bedroom. Besides a great view over the farmer fields, it showed two main roads, one leading from the Pacific ocean going north, the other from east to west where it disappeared in the tunnel under the the Fraser and via Richmond led to Vancouver.
I got what I wanted out of the garage, but before going back to the truck noticed a little cloud of steam clinging to one of the beams, which I thought was odd, but kept going toward the truck, opened the door, yet something called in me to check things out again. I retraced my steps, walked to the rear entrance under the platform to have a closer look at why that steam was emerging from the beam.
I opened the door and ran into the blackest cloud of smoke hanging from the ceiling unto about two feet from the floor, it was very dense and very black, and it was just hanging there.
Two thoughts simultaneously raced through my head – Debbi in bed, and - get a water-hose! I yelled 'Debbi get out of bed,' ran for for the water-hose, ripped open the tap, no water, ran inside, no Debbi, on top of my lungs now, get out of bed Debbi the house is burning! Still no water, Debbi quick! I can't hold the fire! Finally a drivel of water no more than old man peeing comes out of the hose. 'Call the fire department Debbi,' but that was already too late, as the telephone wires were burned through already.
And then thank God, through the smoke, on bare feet, jeans over her nighty, Debbi appeared but she was there, alive.
“Run to the neighbor, tell them to call the fire department, quick, quick.” Debbi ran while I got finally a bit of water out of the hose which was of no help anymore. Debbi said later that by the time she got at the neighbors and looked back, the fire had busted the upstairs windows, shooting flames to the outside with the force of a flame flame thrower. I still saw a chance to move a tent trailer out of the garage and then heard a firetruck siren in the distance, and another one and still another one from different locations, rapidly becoming louder and closer.
Then Debbi cried “My kitties, my kitties.” With the fire going full blast I ran around the house, busted a window, crawled through it to the bedroom of Debbi and Janice to rescue a box with half a dozen kittens which Debbie had in her room. The mother cat was nowhere to be seen for three days. But then I noticed something that made my heart stop. Her room had a sliding-door to the outside which was open only enough for a cat to crawl through but nothing else, they had stopped the door from opening wider with clothes-hanger wire in a way so complicated that no one was able to quickly undo it. If Debbi had not come out of her room when she did, she would not have had a chance, she would have been trapped inside.
The Delta firemen were quickly on the job with several trucks but at noon the house was no more except for a part of the kitchen wall and a few parts of the second story floor, and the wooden stairway to the second floor. One of the firemen asked me if I had a fire insurance. Another shock. Did I? I was not at all sure if we had put a fire insurance on our own house. My head made a noise like a fly in an empty jam pot.
We were building quite consistently about eight houses a year, sometimes more,and as soon an foundation was put in we automatically asked for insurance, but this was our own house and I was not sure at all if we did. And, my telephone was burned up with the house.
In the afternoon, when the firetrucks were gone, and the sightseeing crowd found no excitement to watch a smoldering ruin, my children had disappeared to a friends home, and I kicked into the rubbish expecting to find something that had escaped the hellfire, I eyed our king sized water bed. The blankets were gone and the top of the plastic water-bag had burned away right up to the waterline.
An elderly lady appeared on the end of our driveway walking toward me. She was originally from eastern Europa, and all of a sudden I felt a little emotional, everyone had left, my children were gone, my wife, the oldest daughter and the youngest were in the Netherlands, but here came at least somebody for me. She carried a salad-bowl with greens, I would've rather liked a pizza, but still my heart melted and my stomach growled as I walked toward her with outstretched arms to receive her gift.
Not missing a step she brushed past me “Not for you, for rabbit,” she said, leaving me with empty hands and - an empty stomach. That is when I thought of joining my children at the Froese's who lived half a mile down the slough on which our house was built. I barely knew them but our kids were friends with theirs and I had seen them in church. Mrs Froese was a great cook, I heard from my children and who knows maybe she would have compassion on an homeless man to let me enjoy her cooking and perhaps she let me have the use of her telephone to call our insurance agent about how much my house was insured.
If it was at all insured.
Sorry Mrs Meindersma, next week more.