Immigration

Olivia was at our home this weekend and she interviewed pappa and I about our immigration experience. I promised Olivia that I would send her an email giving her some more details about what it was like to leave my home and country (the Netherlands) when I was 10 years old. That is how old she is and Andrew, too. (And, we missed our interview with Andrew about this same topic because of a snowy roads. This does not necessarily replace that, but it may also answer some of your questions). The days leading up to the date that we left were exciting. We had a car that would take us to the city for medical exams and we had our family pictures taken and there were passports that we all neeeded. There were very few cars where we lived. Fortunately, Uncle Lieuwe (Aunt Trina's husband) had his driver's license and he would be the chauffeur. One time he picked us up from school and did I feel like a big shot! On March 28, 1953 we boarded a bus (I forget where they picked us up) and they took us to Amsterdam to the boat that would take us to America. The boat was called The Maasdam. When we left the Dutch waters all the adults stood on deck and sang the Dutch National Anthem. I can still hear them! The days on the boat are without a doubt, the most exciting moments of my young life. I had never seen a movie before and we could go into the theatre and watch them whenever we wanted to. They were in English, but who cared the moving picture was fascinaging. There was a playroom with the kinds of toys that I had only dreamed of. There was an elevator that we constantly would ride up down to different decks. Our family (there were 12 of us) had a table in the dining room with a waiter all to ourselves. That was foreign to our way of life. I was brought up on a farm in the northern part of the Netherlands (Friesland) and I had no knowledge of restaurants. The food was more and better than we had ever tasted. I ate so many bananas that for years the sight of a banana made me slightly ill. We arrived in Hoboken, New Jersey on April 5 and that is when we started a new life in a new country. I went to school that first day thinking I looked just great, to find out I was completely out of it. My look was Dutch, not American. I did not understand the teacher. I was in fifth grade and a teacher took a first grade reader and helped me read Dick and Jane. Math was my favorite subject because I understood numbers. Science and history were my worst subjects, because there was so much that I missed because I did not know the language. I developed a love and appreciation for America in those early years. Many years later I went back to my home country and discovered that something inside of myself felt much more at home there, then it ever did in the United States. I even thought that our kids would feel like strangers among their classsmates and that, because we had journeyed from a far country, they would still feel the impact of that. I know that my life is rich because of where I was born, and where I grew up. I identify easily with those who are "immigrants" and there are many of us. And today I feel pretty settled in the country I have called home since 1953. Thanks, Olivia and Andrew for asking about my immigrant experience. It is pretty neat to talk my heart in 2007 on a kupborgdebos blog. I am truly blessed! Beppe.