Ted Decock

My Story 12.3

2009-08-12T12:52:00.002-05:00

Around 1950 most people made coffee into a thick syrup, pour a little in your cup and add hot milk. Add sugar according to taste and voila, .....Horrible! But Oma van den Brink always had instant coffee, I am sure it was Nescafe. That I liked. Just a little bonus for dropping in.

I was finished with High school and I had decided to figure out my life and thinking apart from the religion I had inherited. What is the real truth? One day I decided to ask Oma a few things. "Oma", I said, I want to ask you something." She was ready counsel to her grandson." What is the purpose of your life?" She looked puzzled. "Give me a minute.......I have never thought about that...." After a minute or so she brightened up and said: "The purpose of my life was, and is, the bringing up of my children." "And what is the purpose of their lives? Because if their lives have no purpose, then you have no purpose either!" "Well", she pondered, "I just never thought about such things, but let me tell you something, I have always been very happy!" I replied, in the words of Voltaire: "Yet that is a happiness I do not desire." (This "happiness" that comes as a result of NOT thinking.)

Other thinkers such as Immanuel Kant observe that they can only know what the senses tell them. Eyes can see the form, but not the essence of an object. Hearing, touch and such are all interpreted by the brain and only reveal part of an object, we cannot touch the thing itself. In other words an unseen world, a spiritual world, is possible. If I had the proper antenna built in I could detect radio waves. They are there all right but I can not detect them, unless I have the proper gadget. Spiritual beings, bacteria, other dimensions, would come to our awareness if we had the proper receiver. There is a lot more around us than we realize, but we do not have the sensors to detect them.

I was into that kind of thinking. Writing this down It sounds a bit too serious, but that is part of my Life as well. And hey, this is My Story . I found that philosophical thinking ultimately leaves you disappointed and confused. Trying to find your WAY to LIVE and finding the real TRUTH, can be so exhausting. Then you take a break and go for a delicious ice cream in a nearby parlour, and suddenly realize, wiping you chin, that this is the happiest you have been all day. When I got back to my notes that evening I summarized that I was looking for the Truth, the Way and the Life. That sounded familiar. Jesus says: "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Nobody gets to the Father except by me." There is no need to figure it out any more, that has already been done. Jesus asks you and me to replace your searching with faith! Simple acceptance brings tremendous peace and joy. That night I decided then that I would be a Christian.

My Story 29

2009-08-06T22:17:00.003-05:00

In 1975 I was still operating my little sign business from the home, or rather, from the basement. I received a call from a lady involved in various charismatic ministries. She told me a famous person was coming to Winnipeg for meetings, and she was looking for somebody to drive this man to his various appointments. Well business was slow and I got to meet a famous person.....I said OK.

That person turned out to be Richard Wurmbrand. His ministry was to draw attention to the suffering of Christian believers who were being persecuted in various parts of the world. He did so forcefully and with great dedication. His sweet wife Sabrina, demonstrated equal dedication in supporting him and cleaning up after him. He had a magazine for which he wrote articles all day, unless he had to go out to preach. Typewritten pages were spread all over the floor. Sabrina would quietly come in and sort them out. Both Richard and Sabrina had suffered for Christ in Romania, in prison, and doing hard labour. There was also torture from time to time under the communist regime.

He had an amazing list of appointments, Radio and Television interviews, meetings with the press, with pastors and with substantial audiences. It was a busy week for me. He treated me abruptly, as if I were in his employ. And who paid for the gas? I did. And I had no income at all that week. I prayed: "Lord, I will do this, but you will have to supply my needs, and that of the family."

The next week I got back to work, and I received a call to quote on a set of signs. Just off Notre Dame Avenue I stepped in the office of Bill B. He stared at me, stuffing his pipe, one eye looking straight at me, the other one looked at an unspecified spot 12 inches beside me. "I saw you at a Wurmbrand meeting, your wife sang....." She did indeed and Sabrina rewarded Trudy with the book she had written, and autographed it. Bill placed an order for signs, continued to do that for a few years, ....until they went bankrupt. I bought a chunk of his business and profited from that a few additional years.

My Story 26.1

2009-08-05T15:28:00.003-05:00

Shortly after we got married Trudy and I started looking for a church where we would feel at home. Our choice was Calvary Temple. We applied for membership, but there was a problem. I was not baptized. The reason for that was mainly my intense fear of water, to get dunked under with adult baptism was just out of the question.

Unexpectedly, one evening Pastor Barber, with Mrs. Barber, knocked at the door. Now, we were newly married, we had hardly any furniture and we were in no position to entertain unexpected guests. We had to gather up an armful of empty bottles to redeem the deposit and buy a pack of cookies. After I got back with my Peak Frean cookies, which Trudy called Peek and Freak, we got down to business and I explained that I was hydrophobic. I found it hard to be submerged with baptism. "Then God will know", said the wise Pastor, "that for you it will be a greater sacrifice then for anybody else!" Soon after that I was baptized in water, I survived and we became members in Calvary Temple.

It was hard, however, to make friends there, and we decided to change over to a smaller church related to Calvary Temple. In Weston Gospel Church we quickly settled down and made friends. We got involved in various minor aspects of the ministry.

One Sunday we met a guy there who introduced himself as a travelling minister. He was staying in a cheap hotel, and since we had a spare room, it seemed the Christian thing to do was invite him to stay with us. Later during the evening Trudy and I began to feel a bit uneasy. Our guest, before he was converted, had been a gang member in New York, and he was relating the times he committed crimes including shooting at police with his zip gun. I don't remember his first name, Trudy and I refer to him as "Killer McCaffrey." Later that evening a friend from church stopped by our house and told us to be careful. We were pretty tense by then, concerned about our safety and that of our baby, Ron. Time for a silent prayer!

Then the phone rang. It was Henry Redekopp, the man I worked for at the time. He asked me to open with prayer the next morning, as was customary in this place of business. I explained the situation we got ourselves into. He said to bring Killer McCaffrey along and he would settle him in the YMCA. After a tense night sleeping with a hunting knife under my pillow, I got to work the next morning. Henry Redekopp took our guest off our hands and did as he promised, took him to the downtown YMCA. What a relief! And I suppose we had learned a valuable lesson.

WARNING

2009-08-04T13:31:00.001-05:00

WARNING

My Story 5.3

2009-08-03T07:34:00.004-05:00

5,3

While I was on the farm towards the end of the war, I almost always carried my harmonica with me. Remember I was only 12 years old. One morning I was up early and I went out to the field where they kept the horses. I sat down and began to practice.

A little over a year earlier, on my birthday I had asked for a harmonica. I was promptly turned down because this would be the source of more noise in the house. My aunt, however took my side and suggested that maybe this, the least of all musical instruments, would uncover a great musical talent. So, behind the "Grote Kerk" was a little store named "Hogenbijl", marketing musical instruments of all kinds, and I picked out my harmonica.

The horses, about six of them, responded to my "talent" and formed a semi circle on the other side of the ditch. That was the first time I remembered playing for an audience. Six horses! And in the distance was a black horse, on the other side of the field, who made no effort to come closer. Well even among horses there are individuals that don't appreciate talent. When I got back to the farm I told the farmer, Alte Oosten, about the horses and that the black one that refused to come. "That horse is just not musical", I observed. "Just the contrary", Alte replied, "that is the most musical horse I got, he just refused to listen to your crap." Well, maybe so , but he sure was alone in his opinion. I have often thought about this. To be too critical may very well isolate you from the others. And I have often felt like that black horse.

A little more then twenty years later Trudy picked up the autoharp and began to sing in church and old folks homes. I soon joined her, playing the bass guitar. We wrote many of our own songs, providing in my opinion a temporary high in the art of songwriting, and home music. Unfortunately the next generation joined the black horse.

My Story 12.2

2009-07-26T13:11:00.002-05:00

12,2
At another time there was a Pentecostal conference in Hilversum. Just before that our local church had gained a family of converts including Herman O., a big guy a few years older then me. In an effort to "shepherd" him into his new Christian lifestyle he was invited to come along to Hilversum, and I was asked to befriend him.

I soon realized that this particular conference was not suitable for a guy like him. Pentecostals tend to get very serious, and the preaching was certainly beyond Herman's understanding. In addition the meetings were very long and drawn out.

One lady, a pastors wife, was into poetry and reading. As I understand it, she was well known in dramatic circles for her readings. She had written a poem about a child, a relative who was sick and subsequently had died. Here and there in the people in the audience were moved and pinked away a tear. At last she herself was overcome with tears and could not continue her reading for a minute. There was a weird silence in the room. Herman looked at me puzzled and said something like this: "Is it always like this in church?" I whispered:" Nah,...., just look at that, she is sniffling at her own junk...." Herman perceived this as funny and burst out in a loud uncontrolled laugh. And he would not stop. Ruined the whole atmosphere!! I was never more embarrassed. All the eyes were now fixed on us in a silent, but stern rebuke. I finally managed to usher him out of the building to talk to Herman on the parking lot.

We were soon surrounded by people giving us a comment or two. I am not even going to try and tell of the various rebukes we received. The people talking to us outside were nothing like the saints they were when inside the building. Herman in particular found it hard to digest what he had learned that day. But when he got home, for him it was over, and he was safe. I, on the other hand, had to deal with additional comments for weeks to come.

2009-07-23T16:16:00.001-05:00

My Story 12.1

2009-07-22T21:34:00.004-05:00

Every once in a while the church organized a youth conference somewhere in Holland. At first we attended without any noble thoughts, we were just out for "keet schoppen" (some slightly rowdy fun). And indeed we enjoyed ourselves being in another city and free from parental control. As we grew up, gradually we became more serious and realized that this that this was a golden opportunity to meet new girls. And that in a respectable Christian setting!

I remember one time we boarded the church bus to Eindhoven. It was a long bouncy ride, and a long bouncy ride back. But it would all be worth while if you established a new relationship. I do not remember any of the sermons we had to expose ourselves to. I am sure that God used that ministry to keep many of us on the straight-and-narrow. When it was over I remember that I was a bit disappointted because I had not met any interesting girls. Going back ,I found a seat on the bus, and when I looked up a girl had taken the place in front of me. All I could see of course was her pretty red hair that bounced in front of me. After a while she began to stir uncomfortably, I understood she was trying to take a nap, but the designers of the bus had placed a chrome tube where your head meets the back of the seat.

For myself, I had rolled some gloves in my scarf, using that as a pillow. After watching her struggle for a while I offered my little pillow to the young lady. She got off in Amsterdam. She turned, gave me my improvised pillow back, and kissed me on the cheek. Inside my pillow was a note with her name and address.

Suddenly my trip to Eindhoven was a great success. After a week or so I decided to go visit her. That was really the first time I had a good look at her face. But what really freaked me out is that she had cut her pretty hair, and now sported a bunch of ugly stubble. Why do women do that!? It is like saying: "Would you still like me if I was ugly?" Of course not! At least not at that age. Young guys are shallow; how she looks is more inportant then how she cooks! Other then that, we really had nothing in common. No redeeming qualities, I decided. Well, I just tell it the way I saw it!

My story 28

2009-07-20T16:47:00.002-05:00

In the early seventies we were attending Ness avenue Baptist Church. The atmosphere at the time was, well, jovial I would say. I volunteered to do the posters, announcing the special events from time to time.

The day after I quit TransAir one of the members at church, Ben H. phoned me. He worked for the Winnipeg Bible College, and they had special meetings coming up to promote the College. Could I do the posters for them? They offered to pay, because there would be a fair bit of expense in materials, and I had no job as of yesterday. I bought the materials and set up the desk and went to work. That turned out to be my first order in my new career. Before I was finished I had several additional orders, including a 4' X 8' sign promoting a new business. I had no problem with design an lay-out because of training earlier in life. But the biggest problem was to find the correct materials, and new paints, and the brushes they use nowadays for lettering. That was all new to me. I visited a number of other sign shops and looked at the brand names, and asked who the suppliers were.

Credit management was hard on me and I ended up on medication for High Blood Pressure. The Sign Business was relaxing, at least at first. Then I ran an small ad for about six months, and I came to a point where it could support the family. It was not always easy, we had severe ups and downs. We would save up some money, then lost it again during a slack periods.

Often I would smell up the house with the pungent odours of the various paints and thinners. And not once did Trudy complain about that. If you know what sensitive sense of smell God had planted in that nose, you will realize that this was close to miracle!

So with me painting in the basement, Trudy doing housekeeping, the scene was set for a new baby. Actually, we had not exactly planned it this way. Trudy would have rather continued working for Eaton's and explore her ability to earn a good salary. Seems God had other plans, He had an other blessing in mind for us; Yvonne. All in all we were totally overjoyed to hold our little girl. She was a real blessing, she still is today!

My Story 27

2009-07-11T09:19:00.002-05:00

In 1967 Our second son, Paul, announced his presence to this world. He was a big jolly baby, and you could not help falling in love with him from day one! Those days from 1964 to 1968 I was the Credit Manager for Redekopp Lumber. I was promised a raise beginning in January 1968. In lieu of a raise I negotiated to use this amount for a down payment on a house that the company was building. That was going to be our house. Until one day I heard via the grapevine the house was sold to somebody else. I felt betrayed and angry. But things like that happened once in a while, a good profit is better then keeping a promise , at least to some people. OK, then in my logic I needed a retroactive raise!

I never got it, and decided it was time to quit. I found a job in Brandon, Manitoba, at Simplot Chemicals. Simplot was an American Company, who had branched out into Canada. They generously paid for our move over to Brandon. My job started with setting up a Credit Policy with the lawyers and seek the approval of various managers as well as Head Office. It took me a year and a half to do that, and every body was satisfied. Then I had to train our sales staff in the Credit and securities required of their new customers. Everything ran smoothly, and I did not have enough work to do anymore to keep me busy.

I kind of knew this was coming! But the way they went about it was unprofessional. I received a call from the Credit Institute in Winnipeg that my job was in the paper. I marched over to my manager and demanded to know what was going on. They had decided to combine the Credit function with another function for which I was not qualified. That may be so, but I don't think I deserve to be treated like this. They apologized and gave me a generous separation package.

I found another job soon, Back in Winnipeg. TransAir! That was the worst job I ever had. In just two years I had four different managers. The fourth was unbelievable. Within five weeks all of our billing clerks were gone, and no one knew how to operate the National Cash Billing Machines. If you do not send out your bills, you will interrupt the flow of incoming money and in addition pay heavy for an overdraft at the bank.

Mr. Packer called me into his office. "Why are you not collecting enough money lately, you are slipping!" I had enough! I decided I was going to be honest. " Mr. Packer it is your own fault. You should have hired staff by now to do billing, you are now two months behind, and that means millions of dollars I cannot collect. He turned red in his face, and shouted "I am going to fire you". I said " No, I am going to quit". I did and I went to the nearest phone and told Trudy, "That's all right", she said, It was a lousy job anyway".

The next day I went fishing, to unwind and seek the Lord about this. My brother John was over with us for a visit and he came fishing with me. It is not often that God speaks to you, but He often plants little signs along your path. The following day I heard a friend from church had called, and it was that call that introduced me to the sign business.

My Story 26

2009-07-07T07:57:00.003-05:00

During 1962 Trudy got pregnant, at least that is what we thought. But the entrance into motherhood did not follow normal development. At last the doctor concluded that the baby had died, and Trudy went into Misericordia Hospital for a "scraping" (D&C). It was then that they saw what really had happened. She had a "partial mole pregnancy".

I will let the doctor explain:

The formal medical term for a molar pregnancy is “hydatidiform mole.” Simply put, a molar pregnancy is an abnormality of the placenta (afterbirth), caused by a problem when the egg and sperm join together at fertilization.

A partial mole occurs when 2 sperm fertilize an egg. Instead of forming twins, something goes wrong, leading to a pregnancy with an abnormal fetus and an abnormal placenta. The baby has too many chromosomes and almost always dies in the uterus. Thus, molar pregnancies are “accidents of nature” that are not anyone’s fault.

The doctor (Doctor Blouw) took me aside and said: "After removing it we send it to the lab. If the result is negative you will have your wife back in a couple of days. If it is malignant you might as well start making arrangements for the funeral". OUCH! That was a tactless way of saying it, and it caused me some sleepless nights. Thank God, the lab tests were negative (not malignant).

There was a long follow-up, and we were told to avoid pregnancy for at least a year. Everything worked out. Two years later, in 1964 our patience was, and still is today, richly rewarded by the arrival of our son Ron. Ron was born in the old Grace Hospital on Arlington street. Right after he was born I remember going home for a rest and a sandwich. Then it dawned on me that my life was again about to change. What an enormous responsibly to support and guide the little fellow. It was 1964, July 1st, and apparently that day we were not alone in our celebrations! (Canadians celebrate Canada Day on the first of July, a national holiday!)

my Story 18.3

2009-07-05T21:14:00.002-05:00

While driving the Ford F5 Army Truck I was involved in some minor fender benders. The ones that were my own fault do not need to be discussed here. But there was this time we were sent on an assignment, and trying to find the right route, we had to drive through a small town. The streets were narrow. A sign indicated we had to turn right into a one-way street that was even narrower. Shops lined both sides of the street and the pavement was uneven. A dip in the surface made my truck lean a bit to the right side, causing the top of the canvas, that covered my load space, to hit an awning.

We had been instructed never to say, or indicate in any way that the accident was our fault. There are highly specialized insurance experts who will judge the situation, and determine who is at fault. So, by the time I had stepped out of the truck the storekeeper emerged from the building, spilling his entire vocabulary of swearwords. The awning was toast, torn, broken and bent out of shape. I reported the accident to the proper military authorities. About three weeks later I was called into the office. "It was not your fault", was the verdict. The store owner never applied for a permit from the local authorities to install that awning. In addition , the awning stuck out eight inches farther then allowed in that street. Until today, I never discuss with the other party in an accident who is to blame . Even to say: "I did not see you", points the blame to yourself.

The Ford F5 had terrible brakes. With a full load you had to stomp on brake pedal with your full weight. One day we were on an assignment to haul cannons for the artillery branch. Our senior officer was a university graduate drafted after the completion of his courses. So he was a few years older. From day one they would rank above us with no more experience in military life then we had. But this guy was always friendly. I liked him. He ordered me to hook up a trailer that had no brakes itself. I said that this was not safe to hook it up to my truck, which already had weak brakes. "Never mind, --Hook it up!" Sure enough a couple of hours later when the truck in front of me made a sudden stop, I rear-ended him.

About half an hour later he called me over and said something like this: "I know what you said earlier, and that makes it my fault. I will probably lose my rank. Unless of course you do not mention that in your report. All you will get is two or three days light arrest (not able to leave the grounds) ". I agreed immediately to do that for him. That can only do me good, right? And I don't care about that light arrest, I stayed in most of the time anyway.

My Story 18.2

2009-07-04T22:13:00.000-05:00

Religion, your belief in God, and a glorious afterlife, becomes solidly integrated in your personality. It becomes part of you. When I was a kid I looked forward to school. After that my goal was graduation, then a career, marriage, children, retirement, and then.....nothing. For a man with a belief in God, however, the future reaches beyond the grave and is eternal in nature. That is an enormous improvement as compared to those who think that death is the end. How can you treat that lightly?

Consequently, I decided that I would basically stick with what was handed me by my family tradition. That already gives me an identity. Looking around nowadays you see a number of changes, in my opinion, a decline in values. Parent used to teach their children to accept their morals, that is not so much evident anymore. Some of the things I never heard in years gone by: "Are you keeping the baby?" Or: "Do you know who the father is?"

In 1956 I started to work for General Distributors, that later changed to Gendis. It was owned and run by the five well known Cohen Brothers. After a while it became part of my job to purchase the office supplies, from paperclips to adding machines. One sales lady called on me consistently with her products, a little higher priced usually. She came in one day and beamed "I am taking you out for lunch". Where we were going was a "surprise". She took me to a hotel on Ellice were there was entertainment during lunch. Entertainment meaning a stripper! It violated every value I had, but I was perfectly charming about the whole thing. After all, my hostess was a lady, she was Jewish and she was a friend of the Cohen brothers.

At General Distributors I ended up in the Credit Department, and encouraged by my supervisor I took up studies in Credit management. In 1964 I received my diploma and worked several places as Credit Manager. In 1968 I became Credit Manager for Simplot Chemicals in Brandon. I made a field trip with some sales men who were looking for new clients for our company. From a Credit perspective some new accounts were unacceptable, to the chagrin of the sales person. In a small town in Manitoba we had our meeting in the local hotel, the only place in town that served a decent meal. And, you guessed it, a stripper. On another occasion I ended up in a Poker Night, and observed those evils first hand. One guy blew his whole paycheck. I am not judging anybody, that is God's job. I just know know my values, and where I stand. That is the way I chose to live.

My Story 18.1

2009-07-02T21:52:00.002-05:00

Just before I left for Canada in 1956, I made my mom and dad a promise that, after a while was impossible to keep. I promised that I would write every week!

In the beginning, in Winnipeg, I pretty well kept that promise. There were so many things that were totally different here in Canada, and I had enough material to report weekly. One of the things I remember was that when winter came they sanded the streets , which resulted in mud on the windows of your car. I had to take the bus in the beginning and I could not tell where I was because of the dirty windows. Quite a contrast with Holland, where they kept all vehicles squeaky clean. And Potholes in the spring. I had not seen it that bad in Holland anywhere.

But sooner or later you run out of things to report. My letters became shorter until I literally sent a letter: " Dear mom and dad, .....nothing to report, ..... Love Theo." I could not write interesting letters each week anymore. Later on when small reel-to-reel tape recorders came on the market, and I tried communicating with that. Until I found out that they usually put it aside and did not listen to it. Mainly because they had to borrow a tape recorder from somebody first!

I always looked forward to hearing from Holland. I have six brothers and two sisters, I wrote them all, none of them wrote back, and I began to realize that I had left that scene, and started this new life without help from anybody. Eventually, you develop a new circle of friends, mainly through work, and church.

At first, when staying with he Young's I attended the First Baptist Church, but that was boring. Then I looked around for something more "alive". In spite of the serious warning from the Youngs I checked out Calvary Temple, the main Pentecostal church in town. Mrs Young had warned me to avoid what she called " the Holy Rollers". You know me, I had to see this. The minute I walked in I sensed an atmosphere, well, the Holy Spirit in that meeting. At the end of the service people went forward and knelt down to pray. OK. Then some went weird. I stay after sitting in the pew to see how this would end. After about ten minutes Pastor Barber spotted me and came over to talk. I said I enjoyed everything, except the emotional display after the service. He said: "Please don't judge us by that, unfortunately there is always a few people like that around." I suppose then, I could call myself a moderate Pentecostal.

My Story 16.4

2009-07-01T08:59:00.002-05:00

Yet another story from your favourite Freedom Fighter!! We were transported in the back of a truck to a remote place in Holland. Traveling in the back of a truck was the common way of transportation for us soldiers, the trucks had folding seat arrangements. We arrived at The Harskamp, a shooting range with minimal accommodation. Almost as harsh as it sounds.

There was no warm water, meals were very basic. As I remember, for supper we received each a tin can ration. You punch a small steam hole in it and throw it in the fire. After a while it is supposed to be warm. Then comes the real challenge, open the hot little can with the tools you have, or don't have, to get to the goodies. You find out soon enough that the outside was burnt, and the inner part ice cold. But we were hungry. I bowed my head and silently said grace: "Lord, Bless this food..." and adding: " That better work ". The Prayer, that is. This method of feeding your army was invented by an idiot!

It was cold. In the evening we had running water, in the morning everything was frozen. My cantine next to my bed had some water left in it, in the morning: ice!

I had gone to sleep without undressing, even kept my baret on!

We kept our self busy playing cards. Until our turn came up for the shooting range. We were handed ten shells at the time, and if you managed to get nine in the target, you were done for the day. One of our card playing buddies was a really bad shot. I think he missed the target four times. We decided to help him out. The next round we placed nine shots in our own target, then one in his. Our friend, the bad shooter ended up with eleven hits. Everything stopped, while the sergeant figured this out. We acted like we did not know what he was talking about, and we were soon playing cards again.

Apart from that nothing significant happened, except may be that our sergeant-major was nowhere to be found.The MP (Militairy Police) were called in to search and they soon found him together with a lady of ill repute. He was later demoted.

My story 7.1

2009-06-29T12:34:00.002-05:00

Bicycles! After the war Dutchmen moved around on bicycles. Dad went to work on his bike, we kids went to school on our bikes, workers, bosses, teachers, everybody. The police was always out there handing out tickets should you break any of the traffic rules. Really!

During the "great" vacation, the summer holidays, I toured Holland on the bike, together with my brother. It took months to organize this by mail. Except for businesses, nobody had telephones yet in those days. We would write remote friends and family if we could spend a night at their place during one of those tours. When all had replied we could plan our route. Some days we covered a few kilometres, other days were long and tiring.

Most of the details of those trips we made are by now totally forgotten. But there were some highlights I remember. One day we passed a shepherd tending his sheep. Henk and I stopped and we wanted to see what that was like. After all, shepherds were in the stories of the birth of Jesus. I think this shepherd was sitting there all day without moving as his dog did all the work. He was not much of a talker, but he insisted to try out my harmonica, that I always carried with me those days. I was not thrilled have him suck on my "mouth organ" as we called it. But could that guy play!

Down the road we arrived at the destination of the day. We did not expect a great welcome, but we also didn't expect what happened! They pointed us to the haystack and we spent the night there among the chickens. They did give us a sandwich, but we never entered the house.

On a long stretch of road a truck passed us, and we went to grab a hold of a rope and let the driver pull us for a few miles. The cops stopped us, and yes, we got a ticket.

We always rode via the "Betuwe", a region with countless orchards. An acquaintance owned one of those orchards, and let us pick all the fruit we could eat. The next day Henk was sick. He hitchhiked home and I got on my bike, pushing his, backpack and all.

On another occasion we rode into Belgium. Now, our parents had warned us to avoid Catholics, (as many Protestants in those days looked down on Catholics for their beliefs) and Catholics were numerous in Belgium. Sure enough, close to Antwerp a priest pulled up and said in his friendliest tone, and in a strong Belgian accent: "Hi, young men, where are you going?" Henk said, and this is a rather mild translation: "Bugger off!!!" And he did. I am sure he will remember the day he met real Christians. And, yes, I am sticking to the story, that it was Henk who said it!

My Story 25

2009-06-28T08:38:00.005-05:00

May 20 1960 was coming closer, the date of our wedding. That was exactly 30 days after Trudy's arrival in Canada. In those days Immigration was sped up if you committed yourself to marriage within 30 days. Anything to cut the red tape, right? Anyways, it would not make sense to have a beautiful young lady waiting in the wings, and then to withhold the commitment of Marriage. So, May 20 it is. The Friday before the long weekend.

You must understand that I was still paying for my car, and for my trip to Holland. I also had to pay part of the airfare for Trudy, and I had to pay for the transport of a crate containing her possessions, that was being shipped by boat. I was maxed out on my line of credit! That meant no honeymoon, no expensive ring, no expensive party. And all of that was OK with Trudy. We were married the Low Budget Way in the home of Rev. Franklin. He, and his sweet wife made it as pleasant as they could. My brother Ben and his wife Ina were our witnesses. Ben and Ina were married just recently in Holland at the time that I was there. Friends gave us a wonderful reception and after the last well-wisher had left we were finally ready to start our life together.

Actually, when people asked where we went for our honeymoon, we had to say we stayed at home. Trudy was already "away" from her routine life you might say, everything was new to her. We talked a lot. She related the stories of how she was verbally abused by her step mother, and how she had to cope with a difficult life in Holland. We recognized that God had resolved most of our problems, and He would continue to do so.

So, rather suddenly we found ourselves married. What did we actually know about each other? There were a lot of things we had to get used to. For instance when Trudy wanted to take a piece of fruit, or cookie she needed no permission from me, as was the case at home. Everything is different now. Yes, we took a chance marrying on short notice, but in view of how things had come together, we just knew that we could face the future with confidence.

My story 16.3

2009-06-27T20:27:00.006-05:00

Another day, another army exercise. This time we arose early in the morning, and we were to drive "colon", led by the brass in the jeep, sporting a green flag. Followed by say about 15 trucks, and at the end the "Brik", a tow truck with the red flag. The word "Brik" was obviously derived from the word "Break-down". Driving in such a way was never faster then 55KM/hr. Slow and boring! That has of course its consequences, drivers falling asleep at the wheel, and looking for snacks and drinks, and the other consequences of eating and drinking as you can well imagine.

We arrived at our destination, a wooded area with lots of bush. We stopped and wondered why took so long before we could get out. It turned out that a group of Gypsies were camping in our field! The lieutenant and his subordinates were negotiating with the Gypsies for the sharing of the area. They must have succeeded, and we set camp about 100 meters away.

We had a lot of gear with us, that was in a backpack, as well as ammunition bags hanging on your belt and holding on to the old rifle. I honestly could not walk more then half a mile with all that weight. I mumbled "I hope we do not have to fight the Gypsies like this, we could never win". Part of your gear was a rain coat that also could serve as half a tent. So, you guessed it, everybody had to find a partner and set up a tent-for-two. In case of war you bunk well away from your vehicle so that you would be safe in case the truck comes under fire. But I was not too crazy about spending the night inches away from this "partner".

The next thing was to move the truck about a hundred feet away and camouflage it. We did, and I had a plan. When nobody was looking I took my straw mattress out of the tent and put in the truck. When everybody woke up the next morning, surrounded by puddles and mud I was dry and well rested. Oh, one more thing, I got heck from one sergeant, and his yelling woke up another sergeant. Still in his pyjamas, he stuck his head out of the back of another truck where he had spent the night. We all laughed. That is the army for you.
(I took this picture, so I am not in it.)

My Story 19.1

2009-06-26T09:37:00.003-05:00

Hey, Winnipeggers, some of you may remember this:

In 1957 not many people had a television. And the television did not have many channels. CBC, of course with an English channel (2) and a French channel (3). None of us spoke French. Our Dutch solution for the French problem? Well, instead of making the country bi-lingual, send all those Frenchmen back to school for free lessons in English. That would save money and open up enormous international business opportunities for them as well.

A new station was about to come on the air in Winnipeg. They announced themselves with this cute jingle:

"This is the new TV station
it's gonna be the finest in the nation,
Just wait and see,
and you will all agree
when you're watching, watching channel seven".

They started broadcasting as CJAY. Later that became CKY. If you don't remember this, maybe you will remember the cute weather girl Sylvia Kuzyk. She is still there.

Enough reasons for me to buy my first TV. It was a 14 inch GE with a sturdy metal case. During that time I had made friends with a number of Dutch families in the city. We would get together every Saturday and we had a great time. And now I started to bring my portable TV, so we could watch Hockey and Wrestling, as well as some other less interesting programs. All in Black-and-white. I did this for a number of years, until gradually, everybody had purchased their own TV.

The "rabbit ears" were replaced by rooftop antennas, mainly so you could get cannel 12, KCND, broadcasting from the US side of the border near Pembina. They later moved to Winnipeg as CKND.

I also made several camping trips with the same Dutch friends, when I was still single. I preferred to sleep in my Buick. I had taken the backseat out, which revealed an opening to the trunk. I sawed out a supporting post, levelled the surface the best I could and put a mattress in. I slept OK with my feet in the trunk. Later on when Trudy and I were married we went on several trips with the Buick sleeping that way.

Memories 24

2009-06-25T13:59:00.002-05:00

Truus and I entered into a prolific correspondence, expressing our love towards each other, and also to get the paperwork done for her emigration. If we were engaged, and committed to marriage within 30 days we would speed up the process. And going the Immigration way we would also qualify for financial assistance.

Truus" diary of those days include the following entries:

* I mentioned in my letter to Theo that I would like to buy a ring. I think it sounds better when I can say, “I am going to my fiancee instead of my boyfriend.” It just sounds more concrete.

* Next Sunday (Feb.7, 1960) Theo and I have set the date for our engagement. After church I am going over to his parents and at around one o’clock his father will put the ring (that I bought) on my finger At the same time Theo will put his ring on in Canada except there will be seven hours difference in time.

* Mother Decock had said to me: “I don’t doubt for one second that you will a be good wife for Theo.” That is very comforting for me to hear. So I asked father Decock to place the ring on my finger and he was just tickled pink!

Moving to April 20, 1960 I found myself waiting at Stephenson Field, the pathetic little airport in the city of Winnipeg. The airport has expanded since then, and is expanding again in 2009. Truus had landed. Coming from Holland where everything was in full bloom by now, I felt I should apologize for the bare trees, the half melted piles of black and grey snow still decorating our streets. But she had not even noticed.

The next days were dedicated to resting up, and getting to know each other better. A friend had offered that Truus could stay with them, until the day of the wedding. Most days she spent also some time in my apartment as evidenced by subtle changes: Furniture was moved, and a tablecloth appeared out of nowhere. And not to forget, there was a real meal in the kitchen, ready to be served.

My Story 23

2009-06-24T07:23:00.004-05:00

Truus continues:

11:50 PM (Friday)

* I just got in. My hands are dead stiff from the cold.Theo walked me all the way home, me on my high heels even! I am not even tired and was not even thinking about it. But it was cold and nippy.It was such nice and “gezellig” evening. Theo told me a few things about Canada. I honestly could see myself going there, really! But I will talk about that later. I will also write about what Theo and I talked about. Later that Sunday I we went to Theo's parents house When he had introduced me to his mother, he also added “She has it very difficult at home”. I guess he knew his mother would show her unbiased love and interest in me. Such a sweet and loving woman, we hit it off right there and then.

* Theo had told me that he thought he loved me. But he said: “Because I am here on vacation seeing everybody makes it for me an very “exciting dream come true" time. Me meeting you is therefore also very exciting and unrealistic. I sure want this to be for real. I want to think this over a good deal and write you a couple of times, let's say three times. In the third letter I want to ask you to become my wife!” Whoa, I did not expect that, but then again, what the heck! Let's be honest, I was totally swept of my feet by this guy, I looked up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Yep that was all!

* Then in the evening the entire clan about twelve came to the train station to see Theo off. I think he probably would have liked it better had I been the only one. So here we were at the station everybody making fun and I was nearly dying on the inside. Theo was looking at me all the time never kept his eyes off me. Then finally he got on the train and as he was standing there I thought,"When I see him again it will have to be in Canada, and, am I prepared for that?"

When the train began to move I (Theo writing now), had a weird sinking sensation. Was this real, or a dream, and was the train taking me back to reality? I, too, had to think this whole thing through.

My Story 22

2009-06-22T22:36:00.004-05:00

Truus in the meantime had been in a very uncomfortable position. She was almost 20 years old and ready to leave the nest. The nest was dominated by the step-mother bird who showed little sympahty for the children of her new spouse. The situation was more like a pressure cooker then a nest. Truus needed some one to talk to, and she did discuss her situation with her sister Co.

That talk with my dad prepared me for a new direction, would God help Truus also? As far as we can tell about the same time Dad talked to me, Truus was talking to her sister Co, about "praying for a husband". Here are some of Truus' diary entries:

Truus writes:

* For me to talk with someone about boyfriends and husbands, felt good. Co is so much older than me, 15 years as a matter of fact.When it was time for me to go back Co said: “Truus we have been talking about boys, you don’t need an other boyfriend, you need a husband and that is what we, you and I, are going to pray for".

Dec 30, 1959, 1:45 PM

* YES !!, Would you believe I met somebody I never talked about in my diary? He is actually a youth friend of Bertha and Kees. His name is Theo de Cock. He left Holland about three years ago to live in Canada. He came to Holland for the Christmas Season for about 14 days.

This was actually quite strange. I heard the doorbell go twice and by that I knew somebody came to visit the people upstairs.(I lived upstairs, but worked for a business downstairs) . But for some reason I thought:"Who might that be?" and I felt compelled to go and have a look. Our eyes met. The first thing he said was: “What ben jij mooi geworden!” “Have you ever become beautiful!” I could not help but thinking this guy has stolen my heart, he is IT! Why I thought that I don’t know, my heart just flipped on the inside. He told me that he would be in church next Sunday to meet everybody else.

Sunday January 3, 1960

* After church we, Bertha, Bouwe (my sister and her husband) and Theo and I, were talking. He was continually staring at me and said several times,"She sure has become beautiful!" I am just so nervous. He is such a nice guy I am so sorry that he is going away again. In church, while everybody was standing around him Bertha asked: “Theo would you like to come to our place an evening this week, may be Friday?” He answered: “I am rather busy!” Then Bertha said: “Truus might be coming as well if she is not busy.” Then he checked his little notebook, in which I guess he kept all his appointments and said: “Yes I guess I could swing that.” So that means I’ll be seeing him for sure. Good for Bertha that she asked him! I had told her how much I liked him and she had suggested to me that she would try to invite him over.

....to be continued.

My story 21

2009-06-21T08:40:00.006-05:00

Late 1959 I was in Holland, and I had a scratch pad full of people I wanted to see. After my dad and I had this "prophetic" conversation, I continued with my schedule. And this day I had written down to visit 59 Jansstraat. In earlier days I had lots of fun with my brother Henk. Often we would go out together for an evening of "Ritselen", a home made word meaning clean fun in whatever form you can find it.

Most of the time we would end up at 59 Jansstraat, where Bertha lived. Lies (Lisa), her best friend at the time, was there often as well.

I wondered who still lived there at this address now. I rang the bell, two rings , which indicated that I was calling on the people upstairs. Downstairs was a wholesale business, that would have been one ring. Upstairs I met a lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Brussee. That made me think for a minute. What happened in fact, the Mrs. Brussee I knew had passed away and Mr. Brussee was remarried. I introduced my self as an old friend of the kids, and I wondering if anybody still lived there. Kees had moved out, Bertha had moved out, but, she said: "Truus still lives here. Oh, there she is now!"

I turned around and instantly I knew I had stepped into the rest of my life. What my dad had prophesied came to pass. Everything inside of me calmed down, and I suppose we stared briefly at each other, before I found the right words to say:"Wow! Have you ever become beautiful .....!!"

I HAD to meet her again. How in the world would I add that to my scratch pad. I had to cancel somebody. We got a little help from Truus' sister Bertha, when she invited me to come to her place on Friday. First I said no, because I wanted to meet with Truus instead. Then she said "Truus is coming too"." In that case my answer is yes". That evening I was supposed to visit Mrs W. and I went to the nearest phone to cancel. When Mrs. W. started calling me names I just knew I had made the right decision. I don't need any more of this!

The following Sunday was my last day in Holland. Truus and I spent most of the day together. In the evening I would board a train, as planned, and start on my trip back to Canada, via London. I had promised Truus I would write her three letters. In the third letter I would ask her to be my wife. When I said that, she had jumped up and planted a kiss on my cheek, the first kiss, if you need to know!

In London I wrote the first letter. Upon arrival in Winnipeg I wrote the second, and when I woke up the next morning I wrote the third.

My Story 18.1

2009-06-19T12:41:00.002-05:00

This post is a little different. Here I will talk about some of the reasons I ended up leaving Holland.

Let me begin in 1949, high school. I was not very good in some subjects, especially German. I refused to study that and revive memories of the war. But, on the other hand it was a required subject in the MULO. I sat in the back of the class and the girl in front of me, Hennie, frequently helped me with that subject. On the other hand , she was next to clueless in algebra and geometry, in which I excelled! We developed a nice relationship. One day Hennie's best friend, Corrie, invited me to go out as a foursome. We were all into sport and Freddie, Corrie, Hennie and I had many wonderful outings together.

Soon Hennie and I were dating, and spending much time together. It feels great when such a pretty, popular girl accepts you and thinks you are wonderful. I thought she was great too, and I respected her. We eventually graduated together, and we continued our relationship after school was finished and we both had jobs. After about eighteen months, we both felt that it was getting boring. On my 19 th birthday I was expecting her to drop by, but she never showed up. I went to her house, and we talked for about two hours, talking and laughing about the nice times we had together. We mutually decided not to see each other for two weeks.

After two weeks I was back looking for her, but to my surprise she said NO. I cannot tell you how that hurt me. I know that I was not ready for a serious commitment, I had been rather selfish at times. But I never knew that this rejection could hurt that much. Many times after that I got on my bike and rode the streets where we had biked together. Many times I just let go and cried, nobody watching. Many times it was softly raining; God crying with me. At that time I first heard the song :"Blue eyes crying in the rain". That was me. Since we broke up on my birthday I decided that I would not celebrate my birthday again until I had a new Love! For years after that, I always made a dentist appointment on my birthday!

Later my buddy "Ome Jan" called me a "sentimentele ouwe gek" (sentimental old fool) Loneliness followed. The long evenings in the army did not help either. Even to this date it is just stamped on my subconscious," nothing is worse than being alone". When Trudy visits the grand children out of town, that is still my first re-action.

I could not stand seeing the places again where Hennie and I were together. I had to get out of this Hennie Territory. That was one of the main factors that made me think about emigration. Another factor, by the way, was a lack of housing. Friends who married had to move into the attic of their parents place. As for Hennie, and this is almost 60 years ago now, and I must admit there is still a bit of residual love for her tucked away in a secret corner of my heart." I wonder if she thinks of me each time I think of her......"

Strange, is it not, that God can still use stuff like that to mold your future.

My Story 20

2009-06-18T19:53:00.004-05:00

After a few years enjoying my independence, I began to feel lonely. I felt I was ready to get married. But the girls I knew in Canada did not appeal to me. You know, when you are lonely you begin to lower your standards, as natural urges ask for recognition. That I did not want. I had to ask God for direction. I knelt down by my green easy chair and said: "God if you don't give me a nice wholesome wife, I will not be responsible for the consequences." I believe that God hears the intent of the heart rather that the beauty of the language, which in my case was a little coarse, I realize that. Within days things began to happen.

A Dutch friend encouraged me to go and visit my family in Holland, especially, because one of my brothers was getting married around Christmas time. The Bank of Nova Scotia was the first to offer loans for the purpose of travel. And that is where I did my banking. They were extremely helpful. Soon I found myself aboard that noisy "Super Connie" crossing the Atlantic. The trip took 22 hours. I felt very strongly I had to talk to my dad and see if he would have anything to say, if he would be able to give me some counsel. Whatever! The next story is 100% true, it still amazes me.

The living room was full of people. You know how that goes. Time for shallow talk and laughter. And there I was, hoping for a serious discussion. "God", I whispered under my breath, "This is not going to work!" Immediately dad turned around and asked me point blank:" Son, how is the girlfriend situation there in Canada?" Amazingly, this is what I wanted to talk about. My answer was: "The way I want them they don't make them anymore...!" " Not to worry" he replied, "you will meet the right one and you will immediately know that this is your wife, there will not be any doubt." Boy , that felt good! The assurance, the positiveness of his voice. I managed to say: "How can you be so sure?" Dad said: "That is how it happened to me, and that is how it will be for you." I come from a Pentecostal background, but I had never heard a prophesy like that! Positive, direct, clear, and accompanied by an enormous peace. That is how you do that! Ever notice that in a single moment you can learn a whole bunch of things? I did.

I had to get some "polite" visits out of the way in the next few days, and then start on the "old buddy" visits. Then the amazing story continued. What Dad had prophesied, and I use that word on purpose, happened. The next entries will cover some of the amazing details.

My Story 19

2009-06-17T15:01:00.002-05:00

After lumbering across the Atlantic, the Super Constellation landed in Montreal. I took a taxi to the train station, my first major expense. At the train station I went looking for somebody that I could explain my intentions to with my English, and the little French I spoke. Try this sometime, go to a station in an other country and try to get a train ticket for a two day trip for one dollar. Well, it took a while , but I finally settled in one of the coaches. I had no idea how far it was to Winnipeg, and how long it would take, and most important how expensive it was to eat on a train.

Finally , the end of my journey. I was in beautiful Winnipeg late at night, at the CPR station on the corner of Main and Higgins. I would be met there by my pen pal Jeanne and her parents. But nobody was there. Slightly frustrated you might say, I sat on top of my enormous suitcase while the station emptied. Soon I was the only one there. I said a quick prayer. Then a man walked up to me and asked the right question: "are you an immigrant?' I told him I was and that my contact had not shown up. He walked me over to the Immigration Building which was in those days right next to the CPR station. There they gave me a place to sleep in a large room, on a bunk bed which looked so similar to the army bunk beds, that I felt at home instantly.

The next morning I got a hold of Mrs. Young, Jeanne's mom. Her husband had already gone to work, so she did not have a car to pick me up. I volunteered to take a bus at Main and Higgins. Those who know Winnipeg will agree that this is not the most picturesque part of town. Nothing like the pamphlets they showed me in Holland. A collection of cheap movie theatres, beer parlours, old hotels, and Pawn Shops. I asked the bus driver to put me off at the right street, but I still had to walk a few blocks with my oversize suitcase. Anyway, I made it. Mrs. Young was a tiny, sweet lady who took delight in feeding me cookies. Jeanne was a pleasant looking girl who was, get this, engaged! She must have forgotten to tell me. No wonder she felt a little awkward. Her sister Louise was not half as pretty, but ten times more approachable. Nice christian people, but I had other things on my mind.

I had a job soon, and immediately moved out to a rented room, twenty two dollars per month. One of the people at my new job was Rose. She wore lots of make-up, very red lipstick and sported her over sized front to the delight of the male staff. All day long she made sexual innuendos, and the guys giggled. One day she got too personal. I just had enough and walked out. I never went back there.

A few weeks later I got a respectable job within walking distance. I worked there over four years. Weekends would be boring and I could not wait for Mondays to come so I could go back to work. I loved it. I felt a sense of accomplishment and independence.

My Story 18

2009-06-16T12:16:00.002-05:00

In 1954, later in the year I saw an ad promoting a meeting on emigration to Canada.

In high school we learned German, French and English. German, due to the occupation of the Germans in the war, put a bad taste in my mouth. French seemed uninteresting to me at the time. But English! I loved it. I had pen pals those days in England, South Africa and Canada. I loved the American movies, which, with subtitles in Dutch helped me a great deal in learning the language. And I read English language pocket books.

I attended the emigration workshop, (emigration is leaving a country, immigration is getting into a country), and I left my name and address. That is all I did. They kept on contacting me and instructing me step by step. Medical test, interviews, visas and passports. I did everything faithfully and I did not tell anybody what I was up to.

Nobody knew. I did not want anybody to force their opinion on me. I did not want to discuss it until all papers were in order, and I could tell positively what was going to happen. This is MY project.

Finally, I was directed to go to The Hague, to the Canadian embassy, to have my passport stamped. They told me to be on a plane, or boat within 30 days. And I could choose any City in Canada for destination. My pen pal was in Winnipeg, so that was a no-brainer. It had taken over a year. I was delayed because of a souvenir from Hitler, a little spot on my lung. After many tests is appeared there was no danger, so I was "good to go". And now it is time to tell everybody.

So I told everybody. Suddenly I had all these friends , and family, that loved me so much, they did not want me to go away! Not much support for what I had planned and organized. A few weeks before I left I received a notice from the army to report for "Repeat exercises" (Herhalings oefeningen). I sent them a telegram that I was going to be in Canada by then. They promptly sent me a telegram back that I was excused. I left that telegram with mother, because I suspected that, knowing the army, they would send the MP's looking for me. And that is exactly what happened. The MP's came to the door, and my mom showed the telegram, and that is the last I heard from the army. I still feel they owe me big for the two years loss of freedom, and lost earnings they cheated me out of!

In August 1956 I landed in Canada to start my new life. From rainy, depressing Holland to sunny Canada. In Holland I was often painfully reminded of the "lost Love" with my first girlfriend, and Canada seemed so open and promising. Within a couple of weeks I had a suntan. In those days we thought: "Suntan is Good!!" Come to think of it, cigarettes were good too, they turned BAD in 1964.

My Story 16.2

2009-06-15T08:42:00.002-05:00

You may learn something from the following story! One day, in the army, we were going away for a day of field training. Actually out in the field we were trained in battle the military way. Split in two groups, one attacking, one defending, we were instructed in how and when to use your weapon, when to use hand grenades, how to kill an enemy in hand to hand combat, how to recover the wounded and dead, that sort of thing. The most of the day we were crawling around, hiding in the bushes and shooting blanks at each other. The only thing I clearly remember was that I ended up in a "foxhole" with some guys and we started to play cards. Eventually we were discovered by the sergeant. "Why are you guys not out there fighting?" he demanded. One guy replied: "Sir, we are casualties, we are all dead" Another added: "We are waiting for the recovery team!" "And to be buried with military honours......." The serge shook his head and uttered a word I can not print here, and disappeared.

Exactly one week later we were ordered to go on the very same exercise. Protesting, we nevertheless went and drove out to the same location. There we had to line up for a speech from the sergeant. Obviously, who ever does the thinking on our behalf had made a mistake. This is what the sergeant said: "One thing you must remember, you always cover it up when a superior makes a mistake. His career depends on the approval of his superiors. We could go and point it out, but believe me it is easier on everybody if you cover it up. Here is what we will do: Just north of us is an old castle, the "Muider Slot". If you would rather go sight-seeing then crawling in the mud, raise your hand. One condition: You must NEVER tell anybody. You must now also cover up for your sergeants. If you ever talk about this you will endanger our careers as well."

In addition to removing those obstacles from the careers of these men, we began to feel a sense unity in the platoon. Really! We really had an increased sense of belonging. This way of building morale should be useful for any person in leadership. Sergeant Haase, and sergeant Timmers were not that crazy after all.

My Story 16.1

2009-06-13T15:48:00.009-05:00

It had finally become quiet in the room full of now sleeping soldiers. The only noise came from those who snore, and the odd sound trickled in through the open windows. Did you ever notice that there is always a dog barking somewhere when you are trying to sleep. Closing the windows was not an option, and you will understand why, given that some forty odd guys were producing a collective body odour that got so thick in the morning you could, as we said, "Lean against it".

Suddenly the sergeants bursted into the room making loud noises, and waking everybody up. Oh, we knew what this meant. A night exercise!! We were to grab some necessary items and RUN to the trucks. In a few minutes we were out of the gate and on to the dark roads leading to some unknown country destination.

This time we drove without headlights, following the tiny light the one in front of you had on his rear axle. Dangerous stuff! After and hour or so we met up with the artillery troops for a joint exercise. We stopped briefly along the highway, the sergeant shouting the Dutch word "afblazen!!" It simply meant "discharge your bladder", everybody! Thus properly synchronized we were ready for the next stretch. The rest of the trip we were pulling artillery equipment including canons and such.

It turned out our destination was a military airfield in the south of Holland. It was now light outside. I was ordered to unhook my load, a canon, at the end of a runway. I wondered if this was the right place for a canon, but orders are orders. Military jets were constantly screaming overhead. Then, there was more screaming...but this time by some air force commanders, who had come racing toward our position. Two were yelling at me in the most unfriendly way: "Get away from this runway! You are not allowed here!". I saluted and said: "Do you mind telling this to our captain, I take my orders from him."

There was a lot of intense discussion among the various commanders. We humble soldiers concluded that the army forgot to ask the air force for permission to even be on the airfield. As for me and some of my army buddies, we were just following orders, "learning to defend" our precious Holland, sometimes even risking our lives while caught up in the stupidity of others..

Life with the Wife 1

2009-06-12T12:49:00.002-05:00

Life with the wife 1

The year is 2009, the time is 7:30 am. I woke up, and sat up on the edge of the bed. Trudy was waking up as well, one eye slowly opened up.

"Good Morning, sweetheart" I managed to say in my cheeriest early morning voice. "Did you have a good sleep?" "How do you feel?" "Are you happy this morning?" "Do you have money in your wallet?" By now her eyes are fully opened. Yesterday she had eye surgery, the removal of a cataract. She actually took that very well. The other eye was done a few weeks ago, and there was a marked improvement in her vision with that eye.

A few minutes later we were sipping coffee, fighting off the final left-over drowsiness, and getting in gear for the events of the day. It is always a challenge to fit our naps in between the doctors visit. That involves driving to the most unparkable part of downtown, walk a few block, stairs , and then wait in that depressing and unventilated waiting room. What are you going to do when you really are sick? If you are really sick and need a doctor you can not walk there. If you can walk there, you are not really sick and you do not need a doctor.

This morning Trudy had to go for a post-operative exam. It all looks good. Later on today she has to go to another specialist in the same building to remove some suspicious spots from her skin. If we are not busy with doctors, and dealing with pharmacies, we are are busy filling out various forms. I honestly think our government wants you to be broke by the time you die. Maybe we should set up a charity plan for ourselves, and call it "ADOPT-AN-EYE", or "ADOPT-A-TOOTH". One of Trudy's teeth already cost us over one thousand dollars. Any takers?

My Story 18

2009-06-12T10:55:00.003-05:00

In 1954, later, in the year I saw an ad promoting a meeting on emigration to Canada.

So I told everybody. Suddenly I had all these friends , and family, that loved me so much, they did not want me to go away! Not much support for what I had planned and organized. A few weeks before I left I received a notice from the army to report for "Repeat exercises" (Herhalings oefeningen). I sent them a telegram that I was going to be in Canada by then. They promptly sent me a telegram back that I was excused. I left that telegram with mother, because I suspected that, knowing the army, they would send the MP's looking for me. And that is exactly what happened. The MP's came to the door, and my mom showed the telegram, and that is the last I heard from the army. I still feel they owe me big for the two years loss of freedom, and lost earnings they cheated me out of!

My Story 17

2009-06-11T07:45:00.007-05:00

Getting into the army routine, I had the feeling that sergeant Haase developed a dislike towards me. I told myself I did not care. I may have said a few annoying things, that must be it. Or I would keep smiling when he yelled at me, something like that would probably bug him. Then one day he would try to embarrass me, but I think I won that one! That is how you play that game.

We were to have an open house for family and other interested parties. For this purpose they needed a mannequin, you know one of those that you see in store windows to sell clothing. "Decock, that is your assignment today!", he yelled with an annoying grin. Everybody laughed. But I thought that this was like telling me that I had the day off. Great!

I got my pass, and went for my first attempt to borrow a mannequin. I went to large clothing store downtown, called C & A. I found the manager, explained what we were about to do, and asked if he would support us by lending us a mannequin. He said: "Good, How are you getting it over to the barracks?" " We will send a small truck at your convenience". So, all done for the day, now what? I am not going back to the barracks just yet, they will make me participate in drills and marching. Instead I hung around town, snacked here and there, and saw a movie. Since I never needed to spent money on travel, and I did not drink, I always had a few guilders in my pocket. Buddies even came to me to borrow a money when they needed it. Around suppertime I decided to go to the barracks for supper.

When I reported to the sergeant I told him how it was all arranged, and I requested a truck to go pick up the mannequin. Again I had most of the day off. In the army you never volunteer for anything, and you always go as slow as you can. I took the (female) mannequin to the office, again, to the amusement of my peers, and jokes about having a new girlfriend. I said:"At least she looks better than some of you guys!" Sergeant Haase said:" Since she is your girlfriend, you can dress it, in full battle gear!" Again laughter. I said "Yes Sir". But I thought: "Another day off, I cannot believe this". And the rest of the platoon, believe it or not, was going on an all day march. Now I was laughing!

The Open House days came and went, lots of people attended, but none of my family did. I said I did not care, yet it hurt a little bit...... Still, I believe those years in the army were "forming" years. You get to know who you are and what you can do.

My Story 16

2009-06-10T05:53:00.004-05:00

One day, when I was in the army, I remember being upset after a rough day. I don't remember what the cause was, but I thought maybe going to a movie would get me over this. I was by myself. All my army buddies were in a pub (kroeg) somewhere. I had one friend, Martin, who was an alcoholic. Dozens of times I had got him out of the pub, bought him coffee and walked around with him to sober him up. If he would be spotted drunk by the Military Police when he came back to the barracks, he would surely be in trouble. Sober, he was a real fun friend, and we just clicked.

But this evening I felt it was me that needed some help. Maybe a nice movie? All the movie theatres were running films that did not interest me. I came to the last one all the way in Heemstede, a town bordering Haarlem. It began to rain. I decided that I would go inside, at least until the rain stopped. I did not know that this particular night, inside, the North Holland Philharmonic Orchestra was performing an "All Mozart" night. I was not familiar with the classics at the time.

Then something changed! I sat down on the last row on the edge of my seat, and before I had unbuttoned my wet coat, I was overcome with emotion. "Whoever wrote that music, understands!" Understands me and all the feelings I have been through. This music was like a language I did not know, and yet it spoke to me. It was as though it exactly matched my feelings, even that God spoke to me, and comforted me. From now on I am into classical music!!

In the meantime I kept on rescuing by drunk friend Martin. He lived in Enkhuizen, in a little house built in the sixteen hundreds. His mom had heard of our friendship and told him to invite me for a weekend. She slept in one of these old time "bedstedes", basically a closet built to hold a double bed. I crashed in the attic, and slept OK.

On Saturday night Martin invited me to a dance. Man, I have not ever felt more out of place then there. I will spare you all the evils I witnessed. It was horrible, but it also underscores the fact that people need Christ! It was not like the pure atmosphere that I had encountered with classical music. This so called music was rough, coarse, more like swearing I thought. A world marching to Hell to the beat of Rock and Roll. That was my feeling, you may have a different opinion.

I decided that I would check all forms of music and theatre, go at least once. And it began in the army. They had a committee inviting all kinds of entertainment to our small auditorium. An operetta, a magic show, stage shows, dances, hypnotist...... I remember the hypnotist very well, he called himself "Professor Roland". Very interesting! That night I had a toothache. It hurt pretty bad, and it kept me awake. So, halfway between a waking and a sleeping state, it occurred to me that a hypnotist would be able to tell me: "No Pain!" wouldn't that be nice. At that moment the pain was gone! I poked around in my mouth, really, the pain went away, suddenly. It was gone for a few days, it came back and I had the tooth pulled.

My Story 15

2009-06-09T07:46:00.005-05:00

Ah, THE ARMY. One of the first things they did is give every one a powerful rifle. You know boys. They are all interested in guns, that is nature I guess. For the first weeks we had to keep the rifle with us where ever we went to get used to the feel. Well, actually we did not go very far, we had to stay at the base for two months. You can always tell a "recruit" because he has to button his uniform all the way to the top. After two months you have to keep the top button open and wear a green tie.

The rifles they gave us were Lee Enfield's, 303. With good eyesight you could read the date of manufacture stamped in the metal part, 1914. Doesn't that make you feel safe! This Dutch army is protecting your national freedom with weapons made before the first world war!! A lot of the equipment we used was old British surplus. Once in a while they brought out the Bren guns for practice, a light machine gun.

The sergeants got Sten guns.

When we stood guard duty, two hours up, four hours off, we were given five live "sharp" cartridges that fit the Lee Enfield. One of shot had to be placed in the chamber. Even though the safety was on, I thought that was too dangerous and I refused to do that. Standing guard was something else, especially at night. Every sound spooks you. Also, fatigue sets in and you are not fully alert. That fatigue is 100% psychological. When you hear, after two hours, the footsteps of relief coming your way, instantly, fatigue is gone. That is true, you feel again as fit as ever. Coming to the guard house for a coffee, and a rest, they supplied a few slanted wooden pallets for you to lie down on and have a nap. Amazingly, I usually slept rather well on that hard surface.

It is not wise, even in the army, to facilitate a young man with a deadly weapon when he is subject to depressions. You don't always know when a person is a danger unto himself. During my two years, two fellow soldiers shot themselves while on guard duty. That gets to you, especially when the army covers it up and calls it accidents, and gives your buddy a funeral with full military honours. We knew the truth. Both kids were depressed and had a hard time handling emotions during the long boring hours standing on guard.

In June 1954 I was discharged. We said farewell to the two sergeants of our platoon, sergeant Haase and sergeant Timmers. We gave them both a small gift and thanked them for taking care of us during, for many, the first experience away from home. Both tough professional military men suddenly became human. Sergeant Haase turned around wiping away a tear. Sergeant Timmers managed a little speech. He said it had never happened to him that a departing platoon honoured their sergeants with this kind of goodbye, and that our gesture gave his career a new meaning, that kind of stuff.

My Story 14

2009-06-07T07:27:00.002-05:00

To me, the service in the army was in many respects an eye-opener. In my previous, rather sheltered existence, I was never exposed to the filthy language that was common there. And the filthy lifestyles. And not to mention the absolute authority of any one ranking above you, no matter how stupid they were! You had to find a defense mechanism that worked for you. For instance, a drill sergeant yelling at the top of his voice standing two inches away, I learned to pretend that he was yelling at the guy behind me. Or concentrating on something like:,"I wonder if his Mommy thought he was cute". Or, "I bet that this is over by the time I can count to thirty!" Indifference is a great defense. I was good at that. At least on the outside.

After I had been discharged in 1954 I visited the barracks a few months later, and quickly gathered a bunch of new recruits around me. "Are you that rock-hard guy (Kei harde kerel) that lets nothing bother you?" They had been telling stories about me. I was deeply honoured and shared some of my techniques. Other than that I am no different from anybody else.

In 1953 Holland was hit by a severe storm. All military leaves were canceled and we were activated to haul sandbags in the flood areas. I was sent to Zeeland, the town of Terneuzen. I hauled sandbags from the dunes to where the dikes were broken. Sometimes I had to drive over a narrow mud topped dike, unload, and with no place to turn around, back up three or four miles, in the dark, often. Actually, our shifts were eight hours on, eight hours off. In the off time, we slept in a hay stack, ate at one of the Red Cross stalls, or at the Salvation Army. No place to shower and no change of clothes. You know, after a while you don't really care. Others were assigned to pull dead cows out of the flooded fields.

Later we heard that 1600 people died in that storm. Before we left Terneusen we listened to a speech from the mayor. I forgot what he said. He thanked us, I suppose. One thing that I do remember though; they took all our names to be engraved in a plaque for a memorial. I never did get to go back to see it.

When we were ordered back, we drove past the house of one of the drivers. It was a very large stately mansion. Most of us were so exhausted that we just crashed anywhere in the house and had a good sleep. The following day we drove the remaining kilometers back to the home barracks and things got back to normal.

My Story 13

2009-06-05T15:02:00.004-05:00

The years 1950 and 1951 passed by rather calmly. One day a note came in the mail that I had to go the "Koudenhorn" army barracks for a physical examination. I knew what that meant, I was going to be drafted into the army, like it or not. Fortunately, one of the questions was what my preference (jobwise) was. I did not hesitate one second, I wanted to learn how to drive one of those three-tonne trucks. "If they are ever going give me a drivers license", I thought, "they are crazy!". I knew nothing about driving a vehicle. In those days I did not know anybody my age that knew how to drive.

But they went for it, and I went for it, and after a few months I passed my drivers exam. In those days, the army vehicles were all standard, with double clutch shifting, NO power steering, and NO power brakes. The AAT, the transport troops, were based in Haarlem. I was the only one in my platoon who served my full two years in my home town, Haarlem. That meant that it would never cost me any money to travel home. After all, they only paid us one guilder a day. A guilder in those days was equal to 26 cents Canadian.

In the beginning we had many lectures on what it meant to be a soldier. "We are here to protect the freedom of the country". Any questions? I stuck up my hand.
"Freedom?" I said.
"It seems to me that we recruits just lost all our freedom. We are not free to go where we want, or pursue the career that we want, we cannot make a decent income, and I assume we soon cannot say what we want. We must just follow orders. How much worse can it get?"
Had I said such a thing a month later I am sure I would have been in big trouble. All the rules were spelled out, including the one that while Holland was officially still in a state of war, deserters would be shot. Any more questions? No? Then you are ordered to go to the canteen for coffee and cream puffs.

When you are sent on an assignment you must stay on your route, stay in your lane and stay within the speed limit. You must always have a valid written "Drive Order" with you. Do not break any of these rules, ever!! But...if you do...don't tell anybody. Don't talk about it or brag about it. The next guy will get you into trouble for sure. If you break any rules, DO IT ALONE. Now, that, I thought, is Good Advice!!

My Story 12

2009-06-03T08:16:00.008-05:00

Most of my life I have had an intense fear of water. Not the stuff that comes out of the tap and is subsequently recreated into tea, or coffee. What I am talking about is, well, swimming in it. And I know how it started.

One day my parents announced they had decided to get baptized. The association with the little Pentecostal church had convinced them that their infant baptism in their early youth missed the component of a decision of their own free will. I totally agree, a baby makes no decision like that, and while it is a valid thing among many churches, it could never be a confession of faith. All was set for the following Sunday, and remember, at that time I still had never heard about the complete submersion that was involved. I think I was about eight.

I was sitting on the first row close to a large concrete tank full of water. I was shocked to see Dad and the minister enter into the baptismal, and wondered what they would do next. Pray, of course. Long and intense. When they seemed to have entered into a spiritual high, suddenly, almost without warning, the minister took my Daddy by the shoulders and threw him backward completely under water. Horrified I jumped out of my seat and just as quickly, one of my brothers pulled me back. My heart was pounding and I felt sick the rest of the day. For weeks after that I could not stand to hear the sound of water splashing. I covered my ears when someone ran the tap.

I could not watch some one swimming, and even in later years when I watched TV and some one was scuba diving, I was gasping for air. And I'm not kidding. Of course eventually it got a great deal better. But to this day I find even the smell of a swimming pool repulsive.

Given the above details, can you imagine my anxiety when I was drafted into the army and some commander decided that everybody should learn to swim. I told the sergeant that I was afraid of water. "Just stay with me" he said. I did not trust the situation and I brought my heavy army belt with me to pool side. And sure enough they soon ganged up to throw me in the water. I swung my belt and fought off about six guys, including the sergeant. I hit him pretty hard, and he called it off. "Go to the dressing room", he yelled at me. I did. And when I got there, from behind a shower curtain a shaking skinny soldier peeked out...."I am scared of water" he whispered. "Me too" I responded. He came prepared; he had brought a deck of cards. And that is what we did for the next hour. In the middle of that difficult situation God sent me a new buddy. I was never charged for belting a sergeant and the other soldiers.

I still do not like water! I can hang onto the wall of the pool, but for some reason I panic when the water comes up to my neck. Weird, eh, I don't understand it either.

My Story 11

2009-06-01T19:55:00.002-05:00

In north America people are often divided based on race, when I grew up we were sharply split because of religion. Our parents enrolled all of us in a protestant school. Down the street was another school, Catholic. We were not to associate with Catholics. I am not kidding! It seems so silly now. My dad studied books on the Nazi and Catholic dangers, which after the war changed to communist and the catholic danger,( Het roomse en het rode gevaar). Some one even spent considerable time proving to me why a catholic can not possibly be saved.

I agree with the Catholic priest who said: "We differ not so much in basic doctrine, but in emphasis." Let us leave the rest up to God. In the meantime I found myself in the Noorder school, until the Germans came and moved in. We had to move to another school building, the Wouwerman school. About a year later I volunteered with some other kids to go to the old Noorder school to pick up some books. The building was spotless, clean windows, polished floors and the Germans were, well, disciplined is the right word. In may 1945 when the Canadians took over, within weeks the place was a mess. Broken windows, and they even tore up that nicely polished parket floor. But the Canadians could not do anything wrong. Still today the Dutch love the Canadians.

Later on we began to hear about concentration camps, and the unspeakable cruelties of the German regime. People began to tell their stories. One uncle told us how he spent days hiding in the bush when the Germans came around to pick up able bodied men to ship to factories in Germany.His wife dealt with the German soldiers when they came, and they came frequently. She had a large map of Europe on the wall with pins indicating where the latest front was. The young soldiers liked to gather around, homesick, some crying, and more then ready for this war to end. Another relative told how he was picked up and sent to a factory making machinery of some kind, and how he and others sabotaged the equipment. He escaped and walked for days ending up in a small town in Germany. The mayor of the town invited him to be his chauffeur. Ask no questions and you will be safe. Everybody who could drive a vehicle in Germany was already at the front.

One Jewish gentleman told how he was the only survivor out of a family of fifty two! Another relative had become the head of the local resistance and he could sit down all night telling you stories. Corrie ten Boom published her experiences, recalling how she and her dad and sister fared with hiding Jews, and her subsequent stay in a concentration camp. Is it not unbelievable that the leaders of a civilized country like Germany could sink that low.

My Story 10

2009-05-31T11:31:00.008-05:00

Grandma De Cock was old and grey when we moved in, in the late thirties. Nine of us moving in to live there, almost overnight. The noise , you would think would drive her nuts. But NO! She was stone deaf! Being deaf is no fun, but I see now how the whole circumstance fit together. Really, after all is said and done God knows best, and He has the final word.

Even though she was old and wrinkled now, I had the impression that she must have been an attractive, classy lady in her younger years. Her husband and "Oma" De Cock were members of the Dutch Reformed Church. In fact, for many years they were the directors of the large Christian orphanage in town, operated by their church. They had a suite in the building, and there they raised three children, my dad, and his siblings. When it was time to retire the church gave them a pension, a nice house, and a gold watch. Other than that I don't know much about their finances. Grandpa had died rather young. Because Oma was on a church pension, and lived in a church house, she felt she had to continue her membership in that spiritually dried up church, whose ministry was more on a social level. And that was good too, (even better I thought) then some of the more "spiritual" churches whose main accomplishment was making fingerprints on the ceiling! I suppose I was a little radical those days.

In an effort to attend her church, the "Grote Kerk", the famous church in the centre of Haarlem, she asked me more than once to accompany her. There was no heat in that building, and what the old ladies did was bring a little mini "stove", a container in which you place some hot embers. Then in church you would put your feet on it. That was a long time ago and in my memory some details are missing.

An other errand I remember was taking the beautiful gold watch in for cleaning or repair. I had to go to a shop in the Barteljoris Street, operated by the now famous Ten Boom family. Corrie ten Boom, you remember was one of the many people who wrote about their experiences in the war. She was later made famous by Billy Graham, who selected her book A Prisoner and Yet..., changed it to The Hiding Place and promoted it. Oma had the same maiden name, her name was also Corrie ten Boom, and the two Corries were full cousins. Corrie ten Boom who later travelled the world we all know as a humble and respected lady. We all loved her. Yet in my opinion Oma De Cock deserves our respect as well, for a life of service and sacrifice.

My Story 9

2009-05-29T16:36:00.004-05:00

I grew up and developed an interest in, among other things, what my personal beliefs would be. I had to decide what I was going to do about having church characters control whatever religious views I could have. To me, faith in God was a very private affair. I was of the opinion, and still am, that you have to discover God for yourself, and this does not require any church pastor to give me a pat on the back, and a kick in the seat. I called that the "Gospel Industry". Don't get me wrong, I am not against that, but it just does not work for me.To me then, and now, ultimate religion is the revelation of Jesus Christ in your own heart and life. You can never know God except by revelation. If your church does not get you there, you have just missed the whole point,

I always had a sincere desire for God, and for a close walk with Him. The church, the organization you might say, has only the ability to start you off, and help you rise to their own level of ignorance. If that is what you want, fine, I am not Gods messenger of critique! But is there more you could and should have concerning God? The pastor is not always available for you, you have to learn to believe God for yourself, Similarly, I have no objection to first grade (in school), but you don't want to be there all your life.

I hope you don't hold it against me. Some people did, and I guess still do. I can see now I did not communicate my position clearly and I must have caused my parents a certain amount of worry.

As a young teenager, I decided that I would set standards for myself and live by them. Much later president Clinton said it this way: Let your religious beliefs permeate every area of your life. Boy, I wish I had said that. He also said: Never do anything you don't belief in! Ah Clinton, you are my man, at least in what you said. What you did is not my business.

I decided that I would not drink alcohol. And I would not have sex with anyone except my wife when the time comes. No pot, or other drugs. And if you are not able to love everybody, love just one, a person in need, I was sure somebody like that will pop in, and out of my life eventually.

I mention all this because being different in these areas will isolate you often. And I became sort of a loner. After playing a soccer game I never joined the guys for a beer. Later on, when I was drafted into the army this isolation was sometimes hard to take. Out of the 42 privates in the platoon only me and one other Christian guy stayed behind in the barracks, while others went out boozing. So, I missed all that drinking, etc. I have never been drunk in my life, I missed it.. I never needed shots for std, that used to be called vd. Missed that too. I have never been high on drugs, missed that experience as well. And as far as going out with those slutty girls that were hanging around the gate of the barracks, looking for soldiers that would desire some "action", yup, I totally missed that too. I will prepare a more detailed blog on my military experiences later.

My Story 8

2009-05-28T19:33:00.004-05:00

AND THEN THERE WAS THE CHURCH! I must admit that it was of great benefit in my life, and especially during the war. Some of the comments that I write here were my opinions at the time, when I was growing up.

It was a small Pentecostal church, and the first thing that would freak you out every Sunday meeting was the speaking in tongues. I never argued that speaking in tongues was wrong, after all it is in the Bible. But it sure spooked me. And I was not the only one. When somebody "interpreted" sometimes there was an interesting message, but most of the time it was just plain nonsense. How do you tell the difference? I decided I would sort it out later, but for then I would file it away for future reference.

Sunday school, no, I did not like Sunday school. Every Sunday at the end of the session the teacher urged you to confess something or other, or re-dedicate your life! I "accepted " Jesus into my heart lots of times, and I will tell you why: Before you were out the door to walk home everybody knew what you did, and everybody was extra nice to you. Just play along and you are a great kid. And the teachers were telling everybody about the glorious results of the day, I even overheard the pastor discussing (not without some pride) how successful his ministry team was. Really, and by the way, I had started all that...or at least some of it. I really believe that in those days the adults had the one-track mind and the kids had the tact.

Later on I joined the Boys-Club. Same thing. Since my mom and dad had seven boys, they were a sought-after commodity in those circles. They could literally walk into a meeting and triple the attendance. In the early days dad was the logical choice (with all his experience) to lead the boys club. I didn't like this. Whatever he had to say, I thought, I can hear at home.

I just had to get out of there, I thought, and eventually I noticed that the Baptists seemed to be nice people too. And, even more important, the girls were a lot prettier! I would eventually marry one of them, but that is another story.

My Story 7

2009-05-27T12:11:00.005-05:00

I had one older brother named Kees (pronounce Case). His real name was Cornelis. To me Kees was special. Why? Well I had heard in Sunday school that every firstborn belongs to the Lord (Exodus 13:2). When we were running, or playing games I always made sure he won.

Kees had his share of serious illness during the war and after. Newly available medicine after the war made him so much better,well at least until 1949. He began complaining about stomach pain, and could not keep his food down. His belly began to swell up. When he finally got to see a doctor he was immediately sent to the hospital. Stomach cancer! I am sure nowadays they would have done something for him. After suffering at home for a while, he spent his final days in the hospital where he died. That really impacted me. I was mad, it almost ruined my faith in God.

You must understand that our family at that time, and for a great deal still today, was literally walking with God as taught by our -sometimes extreme- Pentecostal church. Kees had written everybody he knew a letter asking for forgiveness in case he had offended somebody. Many prayer meetings interceded on his behalf, for healing, some even declared that he was totally healed. But he died. And I was mad at God. We lived still with Grandma by one of the picturesque canals filled with rather smelly water. I thought of this analogy: "God, it is like you led him safely across the street(the war), and then drowned him ruthlessly in the stinky canal (cancer). How can I ever trust you again?

Kees was in the middle of graduating from high school at that time. It was 1949. It shook the entire school, and hundreds of students showed up for the funeral. Then, 49 years later, right here in Canada I met an old classmate and friend. I asked him, if after 49 years, he still remembered Kees. "Yes", he said. "What impacted me the most was his joyful Faith". Had God looked 49 years into the future? Kees is dead, but his testimony is still very much alive!

And by the way, I am not mad at God anymore.

MY STORY 6.1

2009-05-26T16:50:00.006-05:00

Drawing! I was fascinated by drawing. It has so many possibilities. How do you make a photo of a man walking on the wall? When drawing there is nothing to it. No drawn character ever gets hurt, or indisposed by sickness or is in need of a holiday

I was not aware of any lectures that suited my particular interest, so I taught myself. This started when I was seven or eight years old. My teacher, really, was comic books. Well, in those days some comic books were as violent as today's and I am the first to agree that the morals were often different from our standards at home. I was not surprised that dad began to toss out my comic books. I didn't really read the stories, but I was interested in the drawings. I only bought comic books from which I wanted to copy faces and techniques. One of my favourites was drawn by a guy who signed his work by "MAZ". But I had to hide them! Now that I think about that, I realize that there was a real communication problem there. How I wish dad had just once validated my point of view instead of using harsh language.

Enough about that!

On my own, I gave myself assignments, sort of. Facial expressions. How can you draw a person so he looks like himself from different angles? How do you make cloth look like cloth, and water look like water, etc? Another one was working with shadows. Every thing we see is a combination of light and shadows. To make a tree look round you have to work with a minimum of three different shades. Stuff like that.

Motion. How to draw a guy jumping? And the eyes; A drawing "vibrates" when the eyes are done right. It all takes practice. And then there is one moment that the drawing "comes to life" and you must not add anything further. In the words of Salieri : add one more note, in my case line and there would be diminishment. I was by no means perfect, but still good enough to illustrate the national Youth for Christ Magazine.

In the commercial art course there was great emphasis on lettering, and type-styles, ok... nowadays called "fonts". Coverage was another big one. Some designs you see just don't have enough colour "weight". And colour combinations that work.

When I started to work, I had the money to follow a university course on commercial art , and unknown to me my teacher was George Mazure (MAZ), the same guy who used to draw my favourite comic books!

MY STORY 6

2009-05-26T11:41:00.005-05:00

1950. After the war Holland had a housing crisis due to bombing as well as the scarcity of building materials and other factors that prevented construction. The problem of keeping up with demand, in fact, was never completely resolved, even until today. You are entered on a list of candidates and you just wait. But in 1950 mom and dad were assigned a house of their own. At last! 5 Bedrooms for a mom and dad and 9 kids.

Also, after the war I had become really interested in playing soccer, which in Europe they call Football, you know the real football. In the beginning dad was not at ease with football on Sunday, so I was not allowed to go to the local matches on Sunday. But I went anyway, just don't tell my dad, eh! I came home one Sunday after spending an afternoon in the soccer stadium, and dad met me by the door, "Where were you all afternoon?" I answered ; "Downtown, looking at girls". He responded: "That is no place for a young man, you should go in for sport, like football!" OK, that is where I was!!

I trained a lot those days and eventually joined a team called Kennemerland with orange shirts and black trunks, which mom volunteered to wash every week. Actually most soccer clubs have more then one team. Beginners, advanced, veterans, different age groups, and the best players for entry in the main team, playing in the main league (which was our ultimate goal). I noticed pretty soon that those kids who were the best, owned their own ball. So I saved my pocket money and finally bought a ball of my own. I literally wore that thing out. On many days I ran and practiced until I fainted. When I was drafted into the army, and they made us run marathons, I had no problem with that. I never won any marathons but I did complete them. I could outrun most of my friends and I did not shy away from little fights. I always say, "I never lost a fight until I got married".

I continued my education by reading a lot by myself. I started with philosophy. Later on I took a course in engineering, which was interrupted by my being drafted into the army. I could no longer afford it. Later on I enrolled in a commercial art course from the university of Leiden. When I immigrated to Canada I took the whole volume of sketches, instructions and work papers to Canada. Unfortunately, it did not survive a certain urge to keep the house nice and tidy. And, getting ahead of myself a little, in Canada I took a credit management course from the university of Toronto, ending up with an MCI designation.

MY STORY 5.2

2009-05-25T05:28:00.007-05:00

Apart from the "autoped"(kids scooter) there was another item in our house equipped with wheels. A baby carriage! An indispensable item when you are inclined to expand your family every one or two years. Obviously my parents had set their standards in this matter, and lived by what they believed. I did not agree even in those days, but I did respect , and I was actually proud of this demonstration of their faith.

It is not too often that you see a few young teenage boys walking down the street and pushing a baby carriage. But that is what we did. We were on our way to the "Gaarkeuken", a place where the Red Cross dispensed a ladle full of food for those with a coupon. I am sure that those gaarkeukens never won an award for their recipes, or the quality of their concoctions. But it was FOOD, and therefore priceless.

It was actually amazing how from time to time and totally unexpected people would bring us some food. We called such occasions an "uitkomst", (unexpected solution). Does it not say somewhere in psalms: "Yes, the Lord will give you uitkomst, He who daily bids His Grace......There was a melody to that, and we sang that together at night sitting around the pot belly stove. The flickering of the fire, and of a few home made oil lights,adding to the atmosphere. Hours rolled by slowly and then the doorbell would ring. Under the cover of darkness some one had made it over to our house with a can of beans, or with a loaf of bread.

Some people were able somehow to make it over to a farm and got a bag of grain. You would take that over to your favorite baker who processed that into bread, for you to pick up the following day. I am sure you did not get the whole weight back from him, he probably took his "commission". On another occasion an older gentleman brought us about one kilo of uncooked brown beans. No problem; we can cook that. Well they must have been old or something, because Mom cooked them for two days and they were just as hard. Well, I guess dinner the following day consisted of hard beans!

One day there was a armistice (cease fire), just lasting one day. That day the Swedish air force bombarded our region with white bread. So we went out to see what we could find. You can imagine the commotion, but we ate again for a few days.

Those experiences do put a stamp on your life. You either get very bitter, or you get very religious.

MY STORY 5.1

2009-05-24T11:03:00.015-05:00

Hunger hurts. It is constantly on your mind, day and night. There is after all not much nourishment in sugar beets an tulip bulbs. We ate anything that was remotely edible. Eventually we had to quit school, as it was just too hard to keep going. One of the reasons was communicable diseases. One of those was diphtheria, another was scabies. And a whole bunch of other epidemic ailments, that should have been rejected by a healthy immune system.

As I have said earlier, we had no bikes anymore, either the Germans just took them, or the brave ones among the population just dumped them in the canals. It would be interesting to know what was all in those canals! Anyways the only thing with wheels was an "autoped", actually a kind of scooter with a platform big enough for two kids. It was very old and wobbly, for us kids it was transportation. I often took the autoped and waited by the exit of the train station. When a traveller came out with a heavy suitcase, I offered to put it on my autoped and walked home with the traveler, for a small reward, of course.

One day I was at the station, looking for "business", when the sirens went off. The sirens with a up-and-down tone announced that war planes, probably British, were coming in. The all-clear siren was one steady tone. I popped into the nearest door for shelter. It was not so much danger from the planes themselves, but the danger was that the Germans shot exploding shells at them, and those fragments just rained down over the city. I stood in a part of the station where they serviced trains and rail equipment. Part of the roof was made of enforced glass, you know the kind with thin criss-cross wires in it. Suddenly a piece of shrapnel came through the glass and slammed into the floor just inches away from my feet. That, plus a shower of glass fragments. I bent over to pick up the shrapnel but it was too hot to hold in my hand. I brushed off the glass fragments off my jacket and cap and decided to go home.

"Theo, Theo, were have you been!" It was my mom welcoming me into the house. It happened that when the alarm sirens went off she experienced a powerful urge to pray for me. She had thrown herself at her chair, on her knees, her favorite spot for prayer. She "pleaded the blood of Christ over me" for protection. That, we agreed, was the exact moment the shrapnel slammed into the floor just inches away. What can I tell you? We were in awe how God had worked in this situation.

MY STORY 5

2009-05-23T09:40:00.011-05:00

Towards the end off the hunger winter in 1944 the Red Cross arranged for city kids to go to the farms to avoid starvation. I, along with four of my brothers boarded a boat in Amsterdam, a flat bottom freight vessel to take us to Friesland. I remember it being pitch dark below deck. No navigation lights or lights of any kind. We were lying down on a few inches of straw, and landed early in the morning in Lemmer. Several kids had died during the night trip...but we ended up, safely spread over a number of farms. Having healthy food, the large sores on my toes cleared up within a few weeks, and Scherpenzeel had a new kid running on klompen (clogs) along the dikes.

I was treated great by my hosts, who happened to be atheists. The Farmhand, named Saake, was extremely nice. I did not realize that Saake had a strange sexual preference, and was setting me up. I was 12 and I had never heard of strange people like that. But after many small gifts, one day he confronted me. Then God stepped in. Yes, I am positive, that was God! Something grabbed me by the neck, and I ran the fastest I have ever run towards the safety of the house. Saake apologized later and never tried this again.

In May 1945 Holland was liberated by the Canadians. Shortly after that we kids were returned to our parents. The authorities had sent our parents a telegram, but it did not get there in time. So, when we arrived in Haarlem there was no one to meet us. A volunteer adult accompanied us to the house. It was past midnight by now, and a few minutes of banging on the door and the door was cautiously opened. What followed was the greatest re-union ever. All was cool now!! After exited greetings and a few hugs I went to stand in a corner to observe everything. And what is this?.......I saw dad laughl!! I am sure I had never seen that before.

The next day the missing telegram arrived.

MY STORY 4

2009-05-22T16:19:00.003-05:00

FOOD and MEDICINE became more scarce as the the war-years rolled by. Food was rationed and certain medicine became totally unavailable. Just before the war my dad, in his younger years an outstanding athlete, and local fencing champion, began to show episodes of epilepsy. He would fall down and for several days stare into space, unable to remember even that he had children. He was greatly helped by medicine for this condition, which became unavailable during the war. This "curse" had, however a blessing attached to it. When the Germans went around picking up able bodied men to work in Germany in the war effort, dad simply pulled out his "handicap pass" and was excused every time.

We were all undernourished. With me it showed mostly in enormous sores on my toes. This happened mostly in what is now called the "hunger winter" I ended up in a wheel chair. In addition to having no food, we had no coal, no electricity, no natural gas. Because I could not walk I was given the assignment to construct little oil lamps out of tin cans. I still remember how! Once in a while the Germans knocked on the door to take our winter clothes, our blankets, all copper (to make ammunition), the bikes, the radios, and you name it. Dad stripped planks out of the attic to burn for heat in the pot-belly stove.

One night we sat around that stove singing hymns and choruses expressing our faith in God for help. The doorbell rang. We looked at each other, stunned. The Germans again? It turned out our aunt Maria in nurses uniform, on her bike, and balancing a large bag of whole grain. We got the old coffee grinder out and took turns grinding until we had enough for a bowl of porridge each. And the next day pancakes, or something like that.

We experienced an amazing life with God those days. How often when we were literally at the end of our resources, some "uitkomst" (unexpected solution) saved our lives. Not the least of which was for kids to be send to the farms way out in the north of the country.

MY STORY 3

2009-05-22T06:09:00.011-05:00

1940, a misty Sunday Morning. With a stern command dad gathered his sons around himself. Breathlessly, we heard the announcement: Germany had invaded Holland. But Germans were our friends, were they not? It would take several months before the horrible truth became known.

With the stern face of a worried parent, dad announced that Germans had parachuted into Kenau Park.. But we had to cross Kenau Park on our way to church! His instructions were that, when he gave the signal we had to dive into the bush and be quiet. Well, you know how boys are. This was adventure of the real kind and as far as we brothers were concerned, we could not wait to get there!

Well, to our disappointment we never saw a single German that day. But that would soon change. We eventually saw their tanks, and assortment of army vehicles with soldiers sitting on top, waving at the public. A group of friends were kicking a soccer ball. They stopped and threw the ball towards the soldiers. Soon we were engaged in a friendly match on the hard surface of the street. When one of us fell the German soldiers picked us up and dusted us off. If you had a bruise they showed us their way of dealing with that: "Rausen". Rubbing your knuckles over the bruise and it stopped hurting in minutes, increased blood flow, I guess.

Coming home we had to account for our time away from parental control: " Where were you?? "We played soccer with our new friends, the Germans,- really, they are very nice". And I am sure that the average conscripted soldier, barely 20, bore us no ill will. Hatred did not grow until we witnessed three German officers slapping and yelling at a little Jewish woman clutching her baby. We were puzzled and angry. The Germans as a whole became more and more ruthless. How can a civilized nation behave in such a way? And that was just the beginning.

My Stories 2

2009-05-21T16:46:00.002-05:00

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?

MY STORIES 1

2009-05-21T10:04:00.003-05:00

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.

OUR BIG DAY

2009-05-20T18:19:00.003-05:00

Instead of a heavy duty dinner for a heavy duty price, we opted for a cozy lunch at Cora's. On the way back Trudy picked up some groceries (That picture keeps stubbornly rising to the top). That was it for celebrating. We were home in time for a nap, ok, ok, I know....... It is just that marriage for 49 years tends to wear you out, haha.

Our Conversation

2009-05-19T09:36:00.007-05:00

------- 49 -------

Trudy: "Tomorrow (May 20th) we will be celebrating our 49th Anniversary!"

Ted: " We will probably receive lots of heartwarming phonecalls...."

Trudy: " ...Like you do when others have an anniversary??..."

Ted: "Well, ... No, I deserve better that that!"

2009-05-06T12:31:00.001-05:00

WISE-GUY LIBRARY??

HAND OF GOD

2009-04-14T11:45:00.001-05:00

Far out in space, this is a photograph taken by NASA, and released today!

Smile Maintenance

2009-03-30T11:15:00.003-05:00

Expensive!

I got some quotes for minor repair of my dentures. Minor repair, in one place $ 800.00, across the street $ 455.00. And NO senior discount.

Well, as long as it is done right I suppose we will just have to suck it up. We will get over this, as well as the fact that I have to take my supper through a straw for the next couple of days! And if anyone answers your phone call to our house with some unintelligble mumble; that would be me.

HAHA, I can still do a toothless smile...........

ALYSSA

2009-03-16T11:53:00.003-05:00

WEIGHT

2009-03-14T11:38:00.003-05:00

Nowadays everybody is concerned about their weight. Did you know that weight has to do with the GRAVITY of the earth? How much would you weigh on an other planet? Click here to check.

Jupiter is over a hundred times bigger then the earth. Because of the enormous gravity on Jupiter, it attracts most of the space junk that otherwise could have hit the earth. I am glad God thought of that!

Your Wonderful Brain

2009-02-21T11:57:00.002-06:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WvVfcyVCdNA&feature=related

Apart from the opening scary face, this is an interesting video.

SURPRISE

2009-02-15T10:19:00.004-06:00

Eliana checks out her new brother NICO.

GOD

2009-02-01T19:28:00.002-06:00

THERE PROBABLY IS A GOD!

As I see it, there are three questions:

* Does God Exist?

* Is He involved in human affairs?

* Is there Life after death?

The fact that LIFE exists is already sufficient evidence that there is a God. The more you study the interaction of the various functions and systems, the more you must admit that there is design. And where there is design, there must be a designer. Where there is art, there has to be an artist. Random happenings do not produce anything but chaos, it is that simple. So mister atheist what are you afraid of? Some-one to answer to when it is all over?

It may seem sometimes that God has abandoned His creation, and that he is not reachable by us. Then all of a sudden you come across an event that can not be anything else but the finger of God. A person with a fatal illness is suddenly well, or a wayward child is suddenly changed and comes home. Many"miracles" come after intensive prayer, and a sincere seeking after God.

Most people believe in "Life after Death" and there is now a fair bit of literature confirming this. I have read a number of scientific studies that acknowledge this. God, to be God, must operate on a multi dimensional level. We cannot understand anything beyond three dimensions, or if you are smart, four dimensions. One example is the observations by astronauts of things that do not fit in a three dimensional world.

If you do not believe in God you miss out on a wonderful life full of Peace and Joy. The Bus advertising, "There probably is no God", does not mention that. They have to tell each other to enjoy Life. We Christians already do. I find it a bit unusual anyway, to Announce that on the side of a bus! What do you think?

Trudy's Birthday

2009-02-01T10:20:00.005-06:00

...and your drink tastes better this way, according to Evan!

COOKIES?

2009-01-25T18:46:00.003-06:00

COOKIES?

It does not take long before Alyssa knows the way to oma's pantry,.....where she keeps the cookies!

Losing Weight?

2009-01-15T16:53:00.005-06:00

You have to get one of these!

A toilet seat with a built in scale so you can measure before and after, haha! That, and a note pad to keep your statistics.

....And no cheating......

Dominion Windows 2

2009-01-13T14:31:00.002-06:00

Today the installers showed up, and the new window is now installed.

Looking back, they made a series of mistakes, or they had just some bad luck, or they will have to retrain some staff, that is all beyond my reach. I do not know the inner workings of that business, and if I did it is not up to me to get involved. All I know is that we are happy this is over.

Dominion Windows

2009-01-08T14:47:00.003-06:00

I am not going to say that this is a bad business, or that their product is inferior. None of that, - just the facts!!

We signed an agreement with them to replace a broken panel of glass on September 3, 2008. We paid, and they eagerly accepted, a down payment. The job was to be completed by September 15, 2008.

So, today is January 8, 2009, and we still have no glass replaced. I estimate that I made around 20 phonecalls to find out what was happening, I received numerous promises and excuses, everything, but no glass!

As some of you may know we are seniors with a history of cancer and Parkinson's disease. I think we have enough on our plate apart from.....well, the above. What do you think?

2009

2008-12-31T14:55:00.000-06:00

Christmas

2008-12-24T22:29:00.005-06:00

My gift this Christmas was a walking Cane. A better one then the stick I have been using up to now. Thank you Ron, I like it very much. So much in fact that I immediately quit praying for healing!!!

WEDDING ADVICE

2008-12-08T22:51:00.004-06:00

If you want to be the smart one in your family, marry a spouse who is dumber then you.

Of course, after searching for a while you will find out THERE IS NO-ONE DUMBER THEN YOU!!

That is life for you.................HAHA

Hudson,Evan,Alyssa

2008-12-06T19:20:00.001-06:00

ALYSSA

2008-12-06T18:58:00.000-06:00

Firefox Fan?

2008-12-01T13:52:00.002-06:00

Girlfriend?

2008-12-01T13:48:00.002-06:00

Evan and Alyssa

2008-11-25T11:14:00.001-06:00

DEPRESSION

2008-11-20T22:36:00.001-06:00

What is in your Wallet?

2008-11-05T12:47:00.003-06:00

What is in your wallet?
Have you seen these ads on TV? The devil recommends that you get a Capital One Credit Card.
H E L L O ! ! !
Is the devil not your enemy? How can they use such a disgusting character to advertise anything.
What are they thinking. Hey, what is in your brain.

Atheist day

2008-11-04T16:38:00.005-06:00

FLORIDA COURT SETS ATHEIST HOLY DAY
In Florida , an atheist created a case against the upcoming Easter & Passover holy days. He hired an attorney to bring a discrimination case against Christians, Jews & observances of their holy days. The argument was: it was unfair that atheists had no such recognized day(s).The case was brought before a judge. After listening to the passionate presentation by the lawyer, the judge banged his gavel declaring, 'Case dismissed'.
The lawyer immediately stood objecting to the ruling saying, 'Your honor, how can you possibly dismiss this case? The Christians have Christmas, Easter & others. The Jews have Passover, Yom Kippur & Hanukkah. Yet my client & all other atheists have no such holidays'. The judge leaned forward in his chair saying, 'But you do! Your client, counsel, is woefully ignorant'. The lawyer said, 'Your Honor, we are unaware of any special observance or holiday for atheists'.The judge said, 'The calendar says April 1st is 'April Fools Day.' Psalm 14:1 states 'The fool says in his heart, there is no God.' Thus, iti s the opinion of this court, that if your client says there is no God, then he is a Fool. Therefore, April 1st is his day. Court is adjourned'!
vast! - copyright (c) 1988-2008 ALWIL Software.

Zed or Zee

2008-10-18T10:15:00.004-05:00

The Toronto Globe and Mail has this article of interest:

THE QUESTION: Why, asked Wayne McNulty of Wellington, Ont., do the English (and most Canadians) pronounce the last letter of the alphabet "zed" while the Americans pronounce it "zee"?
THE ANSWER: "The Roman alphabet is a descendant of the Greek alphabet, where zeta is the sixth letter," writes Henry Rogers, professor emeritus of the department of linguistics at the University of Toronto. "Since Latin had no Z sound, the Romans discarded zeta."
He says they also discarded the Greek names for the letters alpha, beta etc., and used names that turn up in modern English as something like eh, bee, cee etc. In time, however, the Romans became enamoured of all things Greek and borrowed many Greek words.

"Eventually, they thought that a letter for the Z sound would be useful for writing these borrowed words, so they resurrected zeta but they stuck it at the end of the alphabet and kept the Greek name."
Over time, he says, the name zeta turned into modern English "zed."
In the early 19th century, he says, American lexicographer Noah Webster published a dictionary of English reflecting a number of his personal quirks and preferences. For instance, he preferred spellings such as "color" and "center."
"He also felt that pronunciation of 'zed' should be regularized to 'zee' to agree with the names of other letters such as bee, cee, dee. Webster's dictionary was influential in early American schools, and many of his spellings and preferences became standard there. 'Zee' clearly won the day in the United States."
The rest of the English-speaking world, including Canada, kept the older "zed."
However, he says, through the expansion of U.S. culture, "zee" is spreading outside the United States.

Spirituality

2008-09-30T22:17:00.004-05:00

Opa, I want to pray for you....Do you feel that?
Oh, that was great!!
That is how it should be, Right?

Going Back to Sanford

2008-09-23T17:31:00.003-05:00

The Last night in Myrtle Beach

Passing through " South of the Border" , a Mexican theme town.

A long ride for a 2 year old.

Myrtle Beach 2

2008-09-21T16:07:00.003-05:00

Trying to look like a Knucklehead, but no quite pulling it off.... In the Mall

Black Geese? Sorry, I am a Canada goose-man!!

Time to concentrate on a nice salad.

76th Birthday

2008-09-19T05:54:00.001-05:00

Paul and Jennifer treated us to a few days at Myrtle Beach. We were in "the Plantation", a classy place assoiated with the Hilton Hotel chain, No, no sign of Paris!

Paint Job

2008-07-17T21:39:00.003-05:00

We finally got around to having the house painted.

Young Robin

2008-07-13T18:38:00.000-05:00

Music

2008-07-07T14:13:00.001-05:00

Turn your speakers up and listen to this:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=uZk0Lg-m7mE

BIG BOX STORES

2008-07-05T09:58:00.005-05:00

THEY USED TO BUILD SHOPPING MALLS, where in the winter you are comfortable and you are dry when it rains. If you have mobility problems you can use your wheelchair from store to store, or rent one. That gets difficult with what they call BIG BOX stores.
Now that I feel the effects of Parkinson's I don't go to the superstore anymore, it is too large.
Look at Unicity, it used to be a mall. Now there are a bunch of large stores. You are expected to go into one, back out in the cold, start the car, find a new parking place. A real pain in the neck if you can not walk that well anymore. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING!!!!!
What do you think?

Anticipation

2008-07-01T21:46:00.005-05:00

The anticipation of pleasure releases chemicals in the brain that result in Joy.
Years ago I said to my little son, about 8 at the time: " I think that this year I will buy you a bike". Paul exploded in a dance around the living room and lots of hugs for his daddy. Anticipation, mingled with Faith releases dopamine and serontonin, and possibly some adrenaline.

Now research has found that this not only makes one happy, it has a healing quality as well. The more you meditate on the joy ahead the more you create new neuro pathways in the brain to replace older and damaged ones. You might say that the outlook for older people is very limited in terms of pleasure. If they should win a jackpot it is somewhat late in life to spend it all. Traveling can be too tiring, and so is running around with the grandchildren. Eating big meals is out, and their favorite cake is outlawed by their diet.

For them comes the word of the Lord " Do not place your desires in the things of this world, but on heavenly things that do not grow old and decay". Most of us though, can still anticipate some pleasure on earth , as well as the spiritual ones. Every promise in the Bible can be a focus point, and mixed with faith, make a change in your life. The contribution of researchers is simply that they are discovering the mechanics of how that works. They may yet discover a lot more. But that is not news for Jesus who used these principles 2000 years ago.

Expect good things and rejoice! Read my other blog:
http://www.parkinsonssupportgroup.blogspot.com/

Seniors have a bigger Past

2008-06-16T09:26:00.007-05:00

As a senior citizen you take a moment sometimes to look back at where you have been, where you come from, what your values are, and how you got from there to here. For me that is a look back in how things were in Holland, and with the help of new technology, the internet, that is possible now.

In Holland the percentage of seniors in the population is increasing, like everywhere else. I read the second most popular spare-time-activity is singing in a choir. A lot of them church related. There are hundreds of choirs now and more being started all the time. A lot of them are world class, complete with voice lessons and training for children as well. Google: "Nederland zingt" on Google video, and you get over 400 entries on You-Tube alone. And they are singing my favorites!
Here is a sample!

ANNIVERSARY

2008-05-20T08:49:00.000-05:00

I never knew that I have been married to an ANGEL for 48 years.
Yes today, May 20th, 2008 is our anniversary

Nanotechnology

2008-04-06T21:48:00.002-05:00

The use of Nanotechnology is taking hold in various fields. Of particular interest is the use in medicine. It seems like a good idea to be familiar with this. I found the following video very informative:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=S4CjZ-OkGDs

NANOTECHNOLOGY

2008-04-05T22:05:00.000-05:00

Nanotechnology is the study of particles up to one millionth of a millimeter. The research finds more and more applications in different fields. The Nano scientists have a News Publication called NANODOT. It lists some developments in the following fields:

A molecular imaging system, you might say a microscope seeing particles 1000 times smaller than before.

A new DVD system that can store 200,000 times as much as the present DVD's in use now.

Entering into Cancer Cells and "silencing" its gene information.

Delivering anticancer drugs directly into cancer cells

Turning the radiation of Nuclear waste into electricity. There is enough energy left there to produce twenty times more than thermoelectric materials.

More efficient and cleaner components for fuel cells

Nanotools such as sensors, electronics and medical devices

Molecular "motors" to find DNA molecules

Nanovalves to deliver medication directly to the troubled cells

Nanotechnology may soon be used to produce smaller chips with more functions for your computer. They are talking "terabytes" (1000 gigabytes)

Robots are coming, with the help of Nanotechnology

Three dimentional structures are already being made by using Nanotechnology and DNA. Just to prove they can do it!

PRAYER REQUEST

2008-02-09T11:38:00.000-06:00

I have been busy researching Parkinson's disease in order to get material for my blog

http://www.parkinsonssupportgroup.blogspot.com/

The blog is meant for support for those who suffer this incurable disease. Their only outlook is continued deterioration, and that is frightening and depressing.
How do you encourage these people? We Christians know that their comfort must come from God. That is why I want to post a prayer from different people as often as I can.

You, who know how to pray , would you write out a short prayer for the sufferers of Parkinson's disease and send it to me at, decocktt@GMX.com

Would you get involved and ask others as well, including your pastor! Thank you.

Step 2

2008-01-28T13:05:00.000-06:00

STEP 2

The Parkinson's Support Blog Site is up and operational. Thank you Yvonne for the design and expertise. To view please go to:

http://www.parkinsonssupportgroup.blogspot.com/

We hope to be able to exchange experiences and helpful suggestions as well as emotional, and spiritual support.

PARKINSON'S

2008-01-26T13:53:00.000-06:00

PARKINSON'S

You may have notice that I have not blogged for a while. There is a reason for that. I did not feel well for some time and I noticed unusual symptoms happening. Finally I ended up with a neurologist who diagnosed parkinson's disease. It was manageable in the beginning, but now I am medicated practically 24 hours a day.

The purpose of this writing is to find out if there is somebody out there who has experience with this, and maybe we can have a discussion/support group. If there is someone in your family or among your friends who is also going through this, please contact me at decocktt@GMX.com

It would help me a great deal. If there is enough response I am thinking of setting up a seperate blogsite for this to share information and encouragement. Thank you, Ted

SCHOOL CONCERT

2007-12-16T12:43:00.001-06:00

Oma and Opa were invited last Thursday to a concert where Hudson and Evan took part in. It was actually very good. Hudson especially was singing and doing lively motions perfectly. Evan, younger of course, was hard to see behind the taller kids.After the concert we had a look at the classrooms.
And then the reward foor good behaviour!!
Luella and Lynne shared a good time with the baby Alyssa.

ALYSSA

2007-12-09T22:49:00.000-06:00

Lynne and Ron came to visit oma and opa on sunday. We all tried to get Alyssa interested in walking, and she indeed took a few steps. She is just over one year old.

.....and then she went in hiding!

Cute!

Birthday

2007-11-26T10:09:00.001-06:00

Evan is 5 years old!

He celebrated (again), this time at Oma and Opa's place. Actually we must confess that our attention was divided between that and, the Grey Cup Game on channel 2.Also, Alyssa asked for our attention when she was clowning around, her way of being funny!
What a great family, - Thank you Lord!

1960

2007-11-24T18:59:00.000-06:00

Sometimes you have to look back at the past. 47 years ago I married this lovely lady from my hometown. Truus has a complete diary of those days, and prior. And I remember making this drawing, copied of a photo. That was before computer was invented, of course!

Now, 47 years later we both look somewhat different.We have gone through a lot together, but we are still "cleaving to one another, forsaking all others etc., till death do us part."

SWONKIES

2007-11-07T10:38:00.000-06:00

SWONKIES

Have you ever met someone who knows everything better?

When I was in the hospital being treated for cancer people came to visit me, and some of them were loaded with all kinds of advice. They recommended everything from herbs, to exercise, to religious thoughts and insights.
Imagine being spaced out on morphine and someone I barely know comes by to fine-tune my religious beliefs. I call someone like that a SWONK-Y, (KNOWS spelled backwards.)

I bet you met a swonky! Most swonkies think they are “knowledgeable” in one area; some think they are experts in absolutely every area under the sun. And they do not hesitate to second-guess every thing you say. I am not referring to people who really know what they are talking about; I refer to those bottomless pits of misinformation who force their insight on others.

Have you ever met a swonky, or have you ever swonkied yourself?

COMPUTER

2007-10-27T15:11:00.000-05:00

The computer had be acting up for a week or so, and suddenly it was over. It crashed and I lost all my files including some 3000 photos.At least that is what I thought....... Then I remembered that I read in PCWORLD that you can recover lost files after you re-install windows.

Here is how, not too complicated!

* Start

* search (click)

* look for Files and Folders

* press View - on the top of the page

* click on Explorer bar and put a V at search

* click on all Files and Folders

*type in name - in my case "pictures"

* type in when lost, if you remember

* Search, - on the bottom

* when the lost file or folder is found, drag it to the desktop

(or try copy/paste)

I went through this routine and restored all my 3000 or so pictures