Yvonne asked me to write down some of my stories, which would be lost eventually if I don't!
The Great Depression hit everybody those days. The year was 1936 and I was a cute 4 year old. My dad had lost his job, lost his house and he had moved in with moms parents, Grandma and grandpa Van den Brink. We lived all together in a small village called Lunteren.
Those days the milkman, the baker and others did businesses were doing their trade pushing a cart down the street. One merchant came down the street selling kerosine, another selling flowers, followed by the colletor of vegetable waste that was turned into pigfood. Not to forget the guy who collected old clothing and rags. And there was a cart sharpening knives and scissors, if you needed that. And at the end of the street you could listen to the news when the town crier rattled his rattle and began to bring you up to date with what is going on in the world.
One day I saw the baker coming down the street, and I ran in to tell mama. She came out with her wallet and bought a fresh loaf of bread. I did not know much about money those days. To me all coins were alike, I called them all pennies. Now get this: Mama got her loaf of bread, gave the baker one penny, and the baker opened his large wallet and gave mama seven pennies back. I know a good deal when I see one! I danced back into the house. Later, knowledge of our financial systems tempered my joy.
But there was more bad news in the air, the town crier was talking about a looming war.
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3 comments:
oh Dad....this is amazing! First...your writing is flawless!! If this was a book, I'd be hurrying to turn the page. I'd never heard this story before...I"ll bet there is tonnes you haven't told us yet! This is so exciting!!!
Okay...I have more to say.
I've often been sad that Parkinson's has stolen your ability to draw and paint. This era your life is when you finally have the time to take joy in your artistic ability...and you can't.
But after reading this entry...I realized that Parkinson's hasn't taken anything...because you are a talented writer too! You have the ability to paint a picture with words, in a way that even your art couldn't.
Dad, I am so proud of you! This is amazing! I hope you continue...
Hi Ted, I am enjoying your stories very much and hope you keep them coming. Though I did not grow up in Holland, I remember here in Peterborough we had a 'rag man', the knife sharpener, and the milk man, though he had a horse to pull his wagon and also an 'ice man' who brought the big blocks of ice for the ice box. Hey ! We're not old....times and technology have just overtaken us.
Keep the stories coming Ted...You are a living witness of an amazing and terrible time in Holland . God bless you.
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