My Stories 2

1938. I was born just after the cut-off day for entrance into grade one. It meant that I had to wait almost a whole year before I was old enough to to go school, that is, according to the rules. Mom and dad , however observed, and correctly so, that I was bright enough and more than ready for education! So, grandpa offered he would teach me grade one, and next year I would start school in grade 2, The plan ran flawlessly, except for the fact that the first day in school I discovered I needed glasses.

The next June there was a letter in the mail addressed to dad, inviting him to come back to his old job, but for half the salary. He accepted, and started work in Haarlem. Now we had to move. We did, we moved from Grandma Van den Brinks house, to grandma DeCock's house in Haarlem. Good move for us, it was in walking distance of dad's job by H&W. Dad worked there the rest of his life.

It was a typical middle-class house, living and dining room on the main floor and sleeping facilities on the second floor. I hesitate to call them bedrooms, some rooms we mere closets, and certainly not built to accommodate 11 people. My parents had 7 children by now. Only later in life I began to appreciate the sacrifice grandma and her caregiver, aunt Co, were making.

In those days there was a deepening of spirituality happening to my parents. Their faith intensified and they became loyal supporters of our small local pentecostal church. On grandma's fancy Philips radio we continued to follow the news and the threat of war. But Holland had declared itself neutral, so we were safe. Or were we?

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