elizabeth enter

Memoirs of Pake and Beppe When money was tight for us in those early years, we had to forgo some of the luxuries others around us were enjoying.  In Canada, it was custom for people to set up a Christmas tree in their house to celebrate the season.  We did not have money for such a thing and were not used to the idea.  The kids knew better than to ask for one.  In all honesty, we barely noticed it when we were snuggled in those winter nights, so gezellig.   Ma knitting in her rocking chair, me, smoking my pipe… Continue reading

Memoirs of Pake and Beppe Things continued on in a regular fashion.  I had steady work at the barber shop and over time our English got better.  I had to be at work for eight in the morning and closed shop at six at night.  I rode my bike to and from work.  Long days.  Our little house was just that, little.  As the winter settled in things got very slippery around the house.  The house stood lower than the road and every time it rained the water pooled in our yard.  Very often the entrance to the house was… Continue reading

Memoirs of Pake and Beppe It was better, they told us, to change our names when we came over.  I guess Canadian tongues couldn’t handle a Dutch name.  Mother’s name became Mary and so did Map.  Tjittie became Sylvia, Adrie now was Audrey, Tjeerd became Terry, and Leni became Linda.  I have to say I had a hard time with that.  One can’t just change a name.  They wanted me to become Rolly.  I refused.  What was so wrong with Roel, I wondered to myself.  I might need to use Rolly every so often, but my name was Roel. We… Continue reading

Memoirs of Pake and Beppe We weren’t there very long at all off the plane when we all began to sweat.  It was much warmer in Canada than it had been when we left Schiphol in the Netherlands.  We were all wearing our warm coats and I had put on an extra pair of pants that didn’t fit in my suitcase.  Mother and the kids took their coats off and felt much better, but the matter of taking my pants off was a little trickier.  I thought I understood English fairly well but boy did the people here talk fast! … Continue reading

Memoirs of Pake and Beppe Things went from bad to worse in quick order.  During our stopover in Iceland, we were treated to a fine meal in the airport restaurant.  The food was tasty, and the portions were hearty.  Mother even licked off her plate after the dessert – no sense letting good food go to waste.  We all ate very well.  Something we would come to regret a little later.   The airplane was refueled, and we were asked to board again.   A few new passengers were added to our number.  One of the passengers was a young boy… Continue reading

From the memoirs of Pake and Beppe Saying goodbye is always a sad thing for me to do.  Even when the places I am going are promising to be great.  It was not that I didn’t love Holland.  The places and ways were familiar and dear to my heart.  I loved the people, the land, the language, the food, our way of life.  Here was where I was born and raised.  Here I met the woman I call wife, here the five children were born to our home.  The thing is life here is hard.  I am the only barber… Continue reading