# 9 October 21 in Park Royal

 Terwyl ik het niet in de gaten had nam Nancy Cramer deze foto's. Ze laat zien hoe we een paar groepjes hebben en soms van het ene verhaal tot het andere over gaan.

Dit is de laatste keer dat we beneden zitten want er is een nieuw food court gebouwd op de tweede verdieping en we zullen volgende maand uitvinden hoe dat er uit ziet.

#8 Samenkomst op 19 Augustus 2015

Op 19 Augustus nam Dirk Langezaal zyn camera ter hand en nam fotos van alle kanten gedurende onze koffie samenkomst. Er is vry weinig koffie op de tafels te zien. Het belangrykste is dat dit keer Hans met de fotos ook alle achternamen opstuurde. Er is dus veel meer te onhouden. Dit geeft ons weer een goed overzicht wie we zyn. De namen naast de foto’s zyn van links tot rechts.

 Gerrit Prins, Geri Ray, Hans Oosterom, Jan Jansen

Carla Taylor, Frieda Cremers, Johanna Cumming 

 Do Jost, Ans Kool

Leo van Mourik, Dirk Oostindie, Nellie Oostindie, 

Neil and Willy Heesterman, Carla Taylor

Geri Ray, Hans Oosterom, Jan Jansen, 

Dirk Langezaal,

Dirk and Nellie Oostindie

Leo van Mourik and Carla Taylor                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Neil and Willy Heesterman

 Do Jost and Ans Kool

#7 Fotos van Frieda's tuinfeest

Het doel van deze post is elkaar beter te herkennen. Er zyn ook verhalen over ons en andere Nederlanders en die zyn op post 2 onder B). We hebben nog niet voldoende leden die hun foto en achtergrond hebben ingestuurd maar hier is een andere kans om namen te onthouden

 

Frieda nodigde ons uit voor koffie met gebak in het huis van haar dochter en schoonzoon.

Het is on Peters Road in North Vancouver. Prachtig. Dat was op 10 Juni 2015 en het was alweer een zonnige dag.

Anne had twee vriendinnen uit Vernon meegebracht, Dianna en Ann. Ze hebben daar ook een koffieclub.

Hans en Frieda namen fotos. Op de ene kun je Frieda zien toen ze een foto nam. De andere is dicect van voren genomen. Gerry is haast niet te zien maar Frieda is er by. Van links rond de kring zyn:

Dianna (van Vernon)

Nelly

Frieda

Do

Els

Wim

Neil

Leo

Willy

Gerry

Ann (van Vernon)

Anne

Boudina

Dirk

#6 Achtergrond van Hans Oosterom

Toen Hans zyn verhaal opstuurede waren alle photo's netjes geplaatsd en ik dacht, makkelyk ik hoef daar niets aan te veranderen. Spoedig vond ik uit dat het blogspot programma zyn eigen regels heeft om fotos toe te voegen, Hans heeft de fotos apart gestuurd en nu heb ik die vlak by het onerschrift kunnen plaatsen

Well, I guess it’s time I sat down gave an account of my (and my immediate family’s) arrival and experience here in Canada.

I was a mere stripling when we left the old country.  Born in Utrecht (Dollardstraat 27bis) in 1950, I was just over 4 years of age when we left our native shores and made our way west to find our fortune in the New World.   I have very few memories of my time in the Netherlands: vague memories of Katwijk, Zwaarte Piet, falling down the stairs at home and crashing headfirst into a bicycle parked at the bottom.  I also recall having my tonsils out and being in the hospital for a short while.  Oh, yes, I also vaguely recall giving a 3 year old a haircut: a friend of my mom’s had come over with her son in tow. They were talking about the “kapper” so naturally I took it upon myself to give the lad free trim.   I guess we were too quiet, because they came looking for us. My mom was shocked but also quite proud:  I had taken care enough to lay out some newspaper beforehand and then had my client sit on it thereby facilitating cleanup.  I’ve always disliked disorder.  Maybe I should have been a hairdresser or a janitor.

As did so many others (not just Dutchman) we (my mom, dad, and brother) came over on a ship called the Waterman (see Leo’s entry for a picture of same). I should mention that my brother was 11 years older than I. He was born in ’38 just before the war, and I was born after dad had spent some two years “dienst” in Indonesia, after the war.  Dad would have liked to have been a musician (a violinist) but his own family situation was such that this was just not possible. (In his twenties he did learn to play well enough to be part of a string orchestra.) His own mother passed away when he was 2 and his father when he was about 12 or 13.  He had a very challenging childhood. Overtime he managed to both work and finish school.  He became a machinist (a tool and die maker), a trade he eventually resumed here in Canada where he worked for the  Schlage Lock Company  here on the North Shore for some 20 to 25 years. The company was located on the site of the present Save-on Foods on Marine drive.  Prior to this he worked making rubber stamps, and as a steward on the railway (CN or CP) from Vancouver to Winnipeg.

 

Mom and Dad op de fiets (me on the left)

It must have taken a fair bit of courage for a couple in their mid thirties to sell all they had (which wasn’t much, apparently, or they’d likely have stayed) and set off to explore a strange frontier. I believe they left the sale of some of their belongings to a “friend” who was supposed to forward proceeds from the sale of the goods and, you guessed it, never did. This was very hard on my father, because he was himself a very honest man. Such blatant dishonesty upset him deeply and shook his faith in humanity, especially when it came at the hands of a fellow countryman.

  Dad and his violin. He’s immediately to the left of the woman standing in front. He was 24.

In any case, we arrived at Halifax sometime in late March or early April and rode the rails to Vancouver.  I think I remember seeing mountain sheep on our way through the Rockies, but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t false memory syndrome, and I was recalling a picture I saw later somewhere else. 

Life was very difficult at first. But, being only 4, I thought it was pretty adventurous. I never recall being hungry, cold or bored. You see, once the family got to Vancouver, I believe we spent some weeks at an immigration centre, and then we moved into OUR first home in Canada.  I believe this was the first non-rental place my parents had ever enjoyed. It cost $350.00. (I have no idea whether dad paid cash or bought it in installments). It was situated in what is today very valuable real estate as we lived on the shore of False Creek, almost under the Burrard Street Bridge, about 200 – 300 metres east of the present site of the Vancouver Aquatic Centre.

Our “house” lacked ANY of the modern amenities such as light, heat or plumbing.  Also, it was a pretty dodgy part of town, populated as it was by any number of immigrant families and, as I learned some years later, by local low-life’s including the occasional prostitute.  Houses such as these were fairly common in the Lower Mainland at the time. Many also lined the southern shore of Burrard Inlet between the Second Narrows Bridge and the refinery to the east.  (Malcolm Lowry, an author of some note - He wrote Under the Volcano – later made into a film starring Albert Finney and Jacqueline Bisset, and October Ferry to Gabriola) also lived in one of these seaside shacks in Cates Park, Deep Cove.  One never lacked for stuff to do on the water’s edge.  

Dad worked at whatever he could find, and Mom got a job – late at night – cleaning up at the Johann Strauss, a nightclub which was on Robsonstrasse as Robson Street was the called.  I’m not sure how she felt working in a German club given what the Germans had put them through during the war, but you had to eat.

My brother (sometimes with me in tow) had to row across the inlet to a floating marine gas station near what is now Granville Island to get white gas for cooking and for the lanterns.

We lived there for roughly a year when a series of incidents occurred involving the locals and the police.  One of the officers spoke to my parents and suggested we move as soon as possible as things were getting worse, and it wasn’t a great place to raise kids. I walked to Kindergarten at a school that I think was called Aubrey Elementary. It was situated across the street from the YMCA on Burrard, which was nearly across the street from the B.C. Hydro building.

Mom and Dad took the hint and somehow managed to buy a place in Kerrisdale (for $11,000.) What a move up.  The house was old, but there were kids my age and a bit older everywhere. I had friends. We played Monopoly, baseball, cards, baseball, in the sandbox, baseball, in the nearby ravine, and more baseball.  I remember getting 2 Double Bubble bubblegum for a penny at the store which was about 2 blocks away. I also remember taking the bus downtown (6 cents) on my own to go and see movies. I would have been 6 or 7 at the time and never felt unsafe. (I loved Tarzan and Hercules movies as well as westerns.)  I don’t think kids do that kind of thing today.

About a year after we moved to Kerrisdale, my grandmother Theodora (van de Leur) came to live with us, as her husband (apparently a very nasty, abusive man who drank too much, and whom I don`t remember at all) had passed away the year before.  Shortly after this my mom`s sister (Annie) and her husband Gerard, and my cousins Jan, Thea and Adrian (Adje) came to town.  (Jan and Thea were pre-war kids, and Adje, like me was a post-war child born in 1947, 3 years before me.)  Adje and I generally got along  well until he got a car... and a girlfriend. The Dendaas family stayed with us for a while, eventually settling in Richmond – a lot of Dutchies there at the time.  My uncle and his son Jan were house painters and did quite well.  My aunt – a wonderful person – always worked and eventually, the family became the caretakers at the Steveston hotel.  My aunt helped run the kitchen there. I often stayed overnight in the hotel, and I`ve probably slept in half the rooms at the inn. (In Utrecht, my aunt and uncle lived quite close by, and I often went there to have my bath after my youngest cousin had his. I like to think they changed the water, which had to be heated on the stove first. My aunt used to say ``Adje zit met zijn gatje in het badje. I thought this was hilarious. I still do.  Adrian, who also trained as a house painter / decorator became, I believe, the maintenance supervisor for the Richmond School District. Thea worked for years at Molly’s Reach in Gibson’s Landing.  (The setting for the TV show “The Beachcombers”.)

Mom was always a very hard worker and a good mother and cook.  To make some extra money she worked for Children’s Aid taking in foster babies, and from about 1957 to 1964 -65 we always had an average of 3 - 4 babies of all types and colours in the house. Some of the children were negro, some indigenous, some half and half. Occasionally we got a child who was disadvantaged: retardation, water on the brain (hydrocephalus), etc.  Many, of course, were given up for adoption by addicted and/or teen mothers. Mom  always found it hard to let them go after they’d been with us for some months, and Children’s Aid found it hard to let Mom go when she decided she’d done it long enough – you can’t imagine the number of diapers that woman washed in her lifetime; there were no Huggies in those days. And I must say, I’ve bounced more than a few young’uns on my knees.  I can still remember the smell of the nursery in the morning after the littluns had done their thing in the night.

Sadly the Kerrisdale house was old (it even featured an old sawdust burner) and expensive to maintain, so after about three years there we moved to North Burnaby.  I think the house sold for $14,000 and I believe Dad paid $8, 000 for the “new” place. I’m guessing we were almost mortgage free. I cried a lot because I just loved the Kerrisdale area and had made so many good friends there.

 By this time Dad was working at Schlage Lock in North Vancouver and he took the old second narrows bridge to and from work every day. Meanwhile I managed to make some new friends in the area, and when we weren’t going to school, we played for hours on end in the woods just across the street from our house. These woods led down to the railroad tracks and to the inlet between the 2^nd Narrows and the oil refinery. We had swinging ropes, camp fires, secret hideouts and lots of fun.  Trains in the area often went fairly slowly and we were known to hop one to ride it to the bridge and the wheat pool just to the west of the bridge where we’d fish. We also fished off the old 2^nd Narrows Bridge (I can still recall the centre span going up when a ship had to pass through) and off the little rail bridge in North Vancouver just east of the bridge.  Interestingly, some of the old shore shanties (such as my family had lived in when we immigrated) still lined the inlet in the early to mid-sixties, and occasionally my friends and I would make the acquaintance of one or two of the down-and-outers who were generally pretty nice people, never threatening. 

That’s about it. Life was sure less structured in those days.  There was no political correctness and a kid could be a kid. I hear today that there’s a movement afoot to make kids’ play areas more challenging and LESS safe. There’s a real feeling that children don’t use some of the playground equipment as it’s just TOO safe and not challenging enough. Indeed, I recall my son coming home from school one day telling me that the bat, ball and glove he had brought to school to get some pickup baseball going had been confiscated by staff as it was “too dangerous”.

My aunt and uncle were always fun to be around.Mom and Dad sometimes talked about life in Holland, and lamented the loss of friends and Dutch traditions and foods. They felt they lost touch with their oldest son, my brother Antoon (Tony) because he” Canadianised” pretty quickly.  It was much harder for them to learn the language and new customs. I had no real trouble as little expected of a 4 year old. I picked up the new language easily, and managed to maintain whatever Dutch was spoken around the kitchen.  However, my Dutch, such as it is, is stuck somewhat of a time warp, new vocabulary, concepts, ideas, from the Netherlands  having stopped dead about 1954 

 

My brother on skates – around 1950-51. Mooie broek. Eh?         

                   

Mom and Dad (the couple on the right) in their everyday attire.

#5 North Shore Koffieclub 16 July 2014

By onze samenkomst nam Hans Oosterom een paar foto’s van de hele groep die op deze warme zomerdag weer heel wat nieuws te vertellen had. Harma wist niet eens dat die foto’s gemaakt werden en op beiden kan je helaas haar gezicht niet zien. De anderen maken het makkelyker voor ons om namen te onthouden. Hans heft daar geen moeite mee en zegt meteen van links naar rechts:

Harma, Joyce, Leo, Joanne, Henk, Do, Dirk, Tine, Neil, Nellie, Loes, Willy.

Hartelyk bedankt Hans

Dit is erg handig maar ik hoop dat we meer “posts” met achtergond en een foto kunnen laten zien.

Deze “post” is nummer 5 . Als je www.nskoffieclub.blogspot.ca invult is er soms een keuze tussen de laatste post en de volledige blog.

De vier andere “posts” zijn:

1       Het begin

2       Algemeen commentaar

3       Achtergrond van Neil en Willy Heesterman

4       Achtergond van Leopold van Mourik

#4 Achtergrond van Leopold van Mourik

Leo heeft me gevraagd om de achtergond die hij heeft geschreven  als een "post" te laten zien. Hier komt zijn ineressant verhaal:

Neil Heesteman was kind enough to initiate a blog, where people of Dutch origin can write about their country of origin, and how they came about coming to Canada.

While speaking with other people of Dutch origin, I have discovered that some of us have followed similar paths. Our arrivals here were for perhaps the same or different reasons. I am also proud to say that the people of Dutch origin were very successful in their new country Canada. There was a sense that Dutch people were honest and hard working. Dutch people too were very giving. Many came from times when some endured hunger and having to do without. Many remember famine and flooding.

My name is Leopold van Mourik. I was born in Rotterdam Holland, brought into the world by a midwife on Goudseryweg, We lived in what was referred to as the old centre part of Rotterdam, on the South side of the Maas River. My early memories of Holland are very vague, and I only attended part of grade one, I started all over again in Canada, this time completely in English. Now why did we come here? We had relatives already living in Canada, and as the story goes, the streets in Canada were paved with gold. Both my parents were looking for an opportunity to better themselves.

Our journey started on the ship Waterman, from the Holland American Line. This was all a great adventure for a young child as myself. The journey took ten days, and our crossing was very rough. My sisters and mother were mostly below deck all that time, in bed from sea sickness. I on the other hand roamed around the ship, and was treated kindly by the crew. They pretty well allowed me to go wherever, from the kitchen to the laundry room. The sailing was not smooth and the seas were rough most of the time, with the ship listing from side to side. At the occasional meal sitting, things were so rough that dishes on the table were falling and crashing all over the place.

Upon our arrival in Montreal we went through customs, with each having an individual suitcase, and our total worth of goods at the time that we brought in was $500.  Sadly though we had to leave our little pet in Holland, and that in it self was crushingly sad for all of us.

Our life in Canada was very difficult however, especially so for our parents. We soon learned the truth that it was not true that the streets were paved in gold. The small amount of money that my parents brought in, did not last very long, my father was forced to take on any and all odd jobs.  My mother eventually joined him in the work force.

Our dad was already 44 years of age, which in itself made it so difficult to start all over again. Through hard work however, my parents were eventually able to buy their first home, and our parents lived there till the end of their lives. Once however they were both gone, I moved again, this time to Vancouver, and that is where I am today.

I have been back to Holland several times, and in my heart I am still very traditionally Dutch, but also now a proud Canadian.

#3 Achtergrond van Neil en Willy Heesterman

Anderen willen graag weten wanneer we emigreerden, waar we in Holland woonden en wat we hier gedaan hebben zo hier is onze achtergrond:

Willy is in Amsterdam geboren maar gedurende de depressie was het moeilijk voor haar vader werk te vinden en via Tiel en Amersvoort kwam ze in Hilversum terecht. Ondanks de oorlog heeft ze veel goede herinnering van haar tijd in Hilversum. Haar vader was een onderwijzer aan de ambachtschool en na de oorlog ging de hele familie naar Indonesia om een beter pensioen te verdienen. Ze heeft al heel wat verteld over die tyd. Ze was daar op de MULO school en hoewel ze nog Hollands spraken werd het een echt Indonesisch onderwijs. Ze gaf het op en werkte op het kantoor van de school.  In 1951 kwam de familie terug naar Holland en ze woonde met haar ouders in Den Haag, waar ze een baan vond bij een exporteur van Dexion.

In 1929 ben ik  in Maastricht geboren en heb heel wat herineringen van 1934 tot 1938 toen mijn moeder regelmatig vluchtelingen uit Duitsland smokkelde. Die waren soms maandenlang bij ons in huis totdat ze ergens anders werden ondergebracht. Voor mij waren het ooms en tantes die ook met ons mee kwamen op kampeervacanties. Velen waren Joden maar in 1937  hadden we een  ontvlugte SS officier die vogel vrij was verklaard in huis. Dat werd moeilijk, We hadden af en toe een Duitse spion  voor de deur en die werd dan door de politie  weg gejaagd. Onze vlugteling kon niet buiten komen. Myn vader was een scheikundige Ingenieur en werd in 1938 overgeplaatst naar Suriname. Zodoende ontliep hij verdere attentie van de Duitsers. Ik heb veel goede herinnering uit die Surinaamse tijd. In 1946 kwam ik terug in Holland voor verdere studie. HBS in Haarlem, een onvruchtbaar jaar in Delt, dan  MTS mechanische technologie in Utrecht en daarna militaire dienst.

Ik emigreerde in 1955 en Willy kwam in 1956. Ik werkte  als tekenaar voor een ijzer gieterij in Hamilton. Willy vond een baan in het afdrukken van fotos. In 1957 verhuisden we naar Arvida Quebec waar ik voor Alcan als ontwerp tekenaar was aangenomen. Heel interessant werk, mechanisatie om het gieten,’ zagen, uitwalsen  en kabelfabricatie van aluminium wat goedkoper te maken.. Willy kon geen baan vinden maar had spoedig voldoende werk met kinderen

Wy hebben vier Frans Canadese kinderen maar ze spreken geen Hollands. Willy was nog bezig Engels te leren en ik sprak Engels en Frans of het werk. We spraken Engels thuis en met all dat Frans rond je heen was het te verwarrend om hun Hollands te leren Met vier jonge kinderen hebben we heel wat gezien van die omgeving. Ik was op school nooit erg goed maar  het is me gelukt om met vier kinderen rond ons heen in boeken te neuzen en via 10 examens  mechanical engineer te worden

.

 In 1962 werd ik overgeplaatst naar Guyana waar Alcan een grote bauxiet mijn had en een ‘“Alumina plant” waar de bauxiet tot alumina poeder werd verwerkt. Heel wat nieuws te leren, transportbanden, ertsbrekers zeven, pompen, pijpleidingen en roterende ovens. We leefden daar in weelde vergeleken by hoe wij met onze ouders 25 jaar eerder in het buurland  Suriname woonden. Ze hadden daar een uitstekende lagere school maar oudere kinderen werden op kosten van Alcan naar kostscholen in Canada gestuurd en dat wilden we niet doen. In 1968 gingen we terug naar Canada en ik heb sinds die tijd voor twee ingenieurs bureaus in Vancouver gewerkt. Dat was weer een hele overgang. Krachcentrales, verwerken van goud en zilver erts, papierfabrieken, cement fabrieken en heel wat kleinere projecten. Ik ben nu bijna 20 jaar gepensioneerd en we hebben veel gezeild, heel wat afgereisd in onze caravan maar nu leven we meestal thuis. Willy heft heel wat schilderijen gemaakt en ik ben een pottenbakker. Je kunt dat zien op northvanpotter.ca Ook maak ik propaganda voor koolstof belasting en olie pijpleidingen. Dat kun je zien op neilwilhees.blogspot.ca