Wait a minute guys. What is this about adding my mobile phone number to the security check? How does giving more information equate with more security for me? What if I'm a neanderthal without a mobile phone or a misanthrope who won't share? Does that mean that I will eventually be denied access to my own blog? So the more we surrender our privacy, the greater our access to self-expression? It may soon be time to step away from blogging to protect some shreds of privacy.
Relax guys, nobody reads my Blog anyway. I won't be starting any geriatric revolution in the foreseeable future. Three old women and my daughter doesn't constitute a threat to the status quo.
I have returned from the civility of my beloved birthplace. Holland was wonderful and maddening and enticing. It's a geographically tiny land which is getting ever more developed. Driving is a nightmare but the trains are awesome, on schedule and comfortable. They have some design flaws that impede access for the elderly and infirm. I didn't see many old folk on the trains. Could it be the steps onto and inside the trains? or could it be the lack of baggage storage space on the Schipol trains? Or the absence of maps inside the trains so that you can plan when to get off in advance. Some trains make announcements, others don't.
If you are not spry, an opportunity to preplan your entries and exits is a must. Alas, even with a good transit system, the designers are too young to understand mobility problems. On the other hand, there are still a great many young men in Holland who are willing to offer a helping hand. I was impressed with the courtesy shown me everywhere I went. Young women were generally less sensitive and courteous. If a woman was providing assistance, she was usually middle aged or over.
My friends in Rotterdam were kind, generous and a pleasure. Quita, is possibly the kindest and most thoughtful person I know. She structured our social life exactly in accordance with my capacity. As a result. I found my four days with her were perfectly paced and really interesting. We spent an afternoon in Voorburg where we lunched and had a nice afternoon shopping with a childhood friend Paula. Paula and I are Resistance children. Our parents were closely connected through opposition to the Nazi occupation. We were occasionally allowed to play with each other when we were secluded from other children. So there we were in Voorburg, women with a lifetime of memories dining and talking without skipping a beat. The next day, it was off with Quita for a day at the Rotterdam Kunsthal seeing the Stanley Spencer Exhibition. It was a splendid show and a fine lunch. My friendship with Quita is a blessing. I met her when Maya was six and in the same class with Justin, Quita's son. The kids loved each other and the parents had an instant rapport. When I was hospitalized for emergency surgery, Quita took Maya in till I recovered. A huge act of kindness when we barely knew each other. So here we are 28 years later - still friends.
Hernen, is my adoptive home ever since my parents died. My father's best friend Gert v d Steenhoven, became my surrogate father when I was so suddenly left alone. I always had a safe haven with him and his wife Nell. Their only daughter Martine, came into my life when I was thirty. I watched her grow up on my visits to my "Godfather" and was available when tragedy struck their home. Nell died suddenly when Martien was 16. An only child like me and motherless at an early age, Martien needed a safe place and an understanding woman. Oom Steen sent her to me for six weeks the following summer, and we became sisters during that critical time. To this day, sisters we remain, so all our visits are family experiences. Jan, her husband, and the three now teenaged kids are my niece and two nephews. No family bond is so tight as the family that chooses to be related. We are such a family. My days in Hernen were perfect days of family life sharing Sinterklaas festivities, Peter's 14 birthday and Astrid's 16 year old female dramas. It was little Leo (ten) that still was child enough to find me relentlessly interesting. It was great fun to be in a family again and very sad when I had to leave. Whatever happens though, we'll still be there for each other and that is a very comfortable feeling.
Maya, I fear, will not find her comfort there because she has grown away from the Dutch side of her heritage. Where she lands in the fullness of time, I can't say. She is forming her own connections with people that bring meaning to her life. The Dutch connection may end after me. That makes me very sad, but what will be will be.
