The Netherlands, robbed clean during the occupation, was still very poor. But Canada, in need of skilled construction workers, subsidized emigration. Barely able to cover our rent and food with his weekly wage, my father signed up.
We were vaccinated. A large wooden container came, for our belongings and household goods. This would travel along with us on the ocean liner Zuiderkruis, on its route from Rotterdam to Halifax. All transport would be covered, and there would be some spending money for the journey and an initial stake on arrival.
But it was not going to be plain sailing, at the outset. The house we rented from the municipality of Goes had had a new window installed, at my parents’ request. Now they were told they had to pay for it, 400 guilders, about 1500 euros in today’s money. They did not have it, and my father, grasping at straws, reached out to his older brother.
Chris arrived on his motorcycle, strode in looking solid in his leather coat, and had a lot of advice. “Maak je niet sappel om lauw”, he said, which meant something like “Don’t blow your cool!” It’s all talk, ignore them. He went off on his motorcycle and did not come back.
Transport had been arranged, we trouped off to the train, my father carrying my youngest sister. In Rotterdam we were directed to the customs area in the harbor. To my surprise, to my parents’ surprise too, there was family to see us off.
My father’s sister Cora had married a German, before the war. What had been acceptable then wasn’t later on, and they were estranged from the family during the occupation. There wasn’t much forgiveness in the air in the years after the war. I don’t know how long it had been since my father had seen Cora, or her husband, but there they were, at our departure.
At that moment the sword fell. The customs officer was adamant. There was a bill from the municipality of Goes, debts were to be paid before leaving the country. We did not have the money. I cannot remember much of the adults’ frantic talk. Cora’s husband stepped in and paid the debt. My mother cried. Cora held my father for a moment. They waved as we went aboard.
A well-wisher in Goes had given me two English books, Lilian Roth’s memoir I’ll Cry Tomorrow, and the Reverent Norman Vincent Peale’s The Power of Positive Thinking. They were my companions at sea, but they are lost now.
Bas van Fraassen's Commonplace Book 