My Story 12.3

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

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

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.

My Story 5.3

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

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.

My Story 12.1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.