BRAVE FACE

The inspiring WWII Memoir of a Dutch/German Child

Five Star Review!

Five Star Review!

A few months ago, I requested a review from Reader’s Favorites. Since I didn’t pay anything, I didn’t expect a response, let alone a good one. But, here it is! Why am I excited? Because entering a book for awards requires a person to pay. The more...

Frits’ Adventures in De Woude

When Frits was a teenager, he took his bicycle to De Woude, a small island reachable only by ferry. He was to work that summer on the largest farm on the island. He slept high in the loft where the hay was stored. Part of his job was ferrying the steer down this...

A Poem I Wrote Many Years Ago

Het was op een Zaterdagavond in Maart, Op dansles leerde een jongen een meisje kennen, Zijn hart ontvlamde; zij was zijn liefde waard, Hij wilde haar dat echter niet bekennen. Maar een hart laat zich nu eenmaal niet dwingen, Amor won alweer terrein, Zijn hart bleef...

My Husband was Born in the Congo

My husband was born in Leopoldville, the Belgian Congo, later called Kinshasa, Zaire, from two Dutch parents. The world had gone through a world war, followed by a recession. Work was hard to find, but Frits’ father found work in the Belgian Congo as a supplier...

The Blue of the Sky

Near the Oranje Hotel prison in Scheveningen,  there was a lovely park. It was called Klein Zwitserland. The grass was green and soft. No fire ants, like where I live now. I used to walk there and lie down, looking up at the trees and imagining that I was lying on top...

Frits in the Army

In those days, there was conscription of all young males of 18, with the usual exceptions. Frits did not qualify for any exception. He was not very pleased to enter the armed forces. I am not sure what the pay was, except that it was enough to buy a daily packet of...

When I Met Frits

1952. It was Sunday afternoon at the Ann en Wim Smit Dance School. Excitement rose as the new pupils came in, one by one or in small groups. I was lucky to be there. Five days ago, I had turned 17, and I was given permission to follow the intermediate ballroom classes...

My Dad, Pappa

On this day in 1903 my father was born. Were he alive, he would be 120 years old. He died at the age of 77. Although far too young in my mind, he far outlived expectations. He was not expected to survive. There were no baby ICU’s in those days. My grandmother heated...
Lessons from a WWII Survivor

Lessons from a WWII Survivor

Mothers are good at giving advice—especially mine. Even though I’m grandmother to eight children and she’s 88, Mom regularly reminds me, “Enjoy who you have when you have them,” “Make the best of what you have,” and “Love your children passionately.” When she said...
Research: My Sweet Spot

Research: My Sweet Spot

What do asthma, cell communication, good science, history, and genealogy all have in common? Research! And me. I’ve spent many happy hours engrossed in studying all of them. For Mother’s Day, I bought myself a gift. Okay, those who are snickering, did you never buy...