It’s still dark when I wake up. A thought pierces my heart: today is the funeral. Four days ago, on February 22, 1944, an American bombardment tore the heart out of Nijmegen, our city, and shattered our family by killing my eight-year-old brother, Jos. Jos is short for Josef, meaning “God adds.” Yes, God adds,…
Amersfoort used to be the city we’d see from the train, my brother and I, as we travelled home for the weekend during our student days. It was the last stop of the fast “intercity” trains from Utrecht before they passed through the Veluwe forests to arrive at Zwolle. There, we would run to catch…
One of the poets-translators involved in the 1973 Dutch psalter-hymnal, Jan Wit, wrote the hymn “The Word That Called You Into Life.” It is no. 7 in the Liedboek voor de kerken and set to the melody of Psalm 113 in the Genevan psalter. Here is the final verse: “Rondom u klinkt de stem van…
My friends said that we should have a name for our coffee club, so we decided to call ourselves the Young People of Yesteryear (YPOY). Douwe, smiling, said, “The Y P bothers me a little. It’s more like how to P today.” We all laughed at that. “In the past, it was a stream . . .” he paused for a few seconds, until Broekie shouted, “of iniquities!” and without missing a beat, Douwe said, “Yes, now it’s more drops of blessing.”
I am the son and grandson of Dutch immigrants to Canada who arrived shortly after the end of the second world war. They took a “kist” across the Atlantic, a large crate containing their modest household possessions. Along with their kist, many Dutch immigrants brought their Reformed Christian tradition. This tradition, sometimes referred to as…
We’re in our corner in Grace Manor dining hall – the Young People from the past. We’re a bit worried about our friend Jan Piersma, the one with “Old-timers” disease. He came to our table this morning and his whole face had sunken in. He sat down beside Douwe, the horse breeder – Frisian horses,…
Last year, a chaplain friend asked me if I would be willing to visit a Dutch prisoner in Toronto. Sure, I said. I was busy enough but I was not formally working at that time, I live in Toronto, and have the required training. I was ready to go visit a working prison for the…
last night / who pops up in my head? / johan / slender little johan / i wish / we had grown up together
It was tobacco harvesting time and the days were long, so the Hovius family was in bed early. At 9 p.m. they were startled awake by a loud knocking. It was the driver for Keillor Construction. He told them there had been an accident in Dresden, where their father, Enne, and their oldest brother, Wiebrand,…
For me to say today that I am “indigenous” will raise a lot of eyebrows, particularly in Canada. That word has become very useful for correctly describing people who are native to North America – or, as the Oxford Dictionary puts it – inhabitants from before the arrival of colonists. It is now more than…
Four Canadian innovations made dryland agriculture feasible on the Canadian prairies and the northern plains of America. In 1886, Angus MacKay of Indian Head, Saskatchewan, invented summer fallow to contend with drought. Charles Saunders of Ottawa developed early ripening Marquis wheat to avoid frost a few years later, in 1904. In 1918, the Koole brothers…
“Can you see the ghosts?” The two of us stood on a stretch of concrete between barbed wire fence and stout brick barracks. My heart wrenched as I nodded yes to my mom’s question. Yes, I could see the ghosts of Vught Concentration Camp. The ghosts were despondent prisoners with drooping postures and hollow eyes….
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