I had originally drafted this as a post separate from the 52 Ancestors Challenge, but then I noted “Free Space” as an upcoming post. So nice to be ahead of the prompt for a change!
The Database of Surnames in The Netherlands contains about 300,000 surnames found in the Netherlands in 2007, with similar data for 1947. It is maintained by the CBG Centrum voor familiegeschiedenis (“CBG Centre for Family History”) in the Netherlands, formerly called the Centraal Bureau voor Genealogie (“Central Bureau for Genealogy”).
A swimming pool with my surname on it, located on Fluitpolderplein in Leidschendam, Zuid Holland. Our surname either comes from the polder on which this pool is located, or the polder is named after my ancestor. There’s also an adjacent library, where I tried to do a bit of family history research.
You’d be hard pressed to find many Vanderfluits/van der Fluits in North America. Yes, there are a few of us, mostly in New Brunswick and Alberta, and some in British Columbia (like me!). There are also a few in the United States.
There aren’t many van der Fluits in the Netherlands, either, but 218 (in 2007) seems like a huge number when I think of how few are on this side of the Atlantic.
Visiting my cousin in the Netherlands, whose house is on “‘t Fluitnpad” – which is actually the name he gave his driveway. In English, it says “The Fluit Path”.
It’s no surprise to me to find the concentration in Noord Holland (the bit below Texel, the largest of the islands on the map). It’s where my father was born and pretty much where all the van der Fluits who I know in the Netherlands live. What’s surprising are the pockets of van der Fluits in Gelderland and Noord Brabant (the south-east). I have no idea who they are or how they got there. Even more surprising is the dearth of van der Fluits in Zuid Holland (around The Hague and Leiden), especially since that is the primary source of the surname. There are *zero* in many of the municipalities where my ancestors came from.
I don’t know if my father acquired it before or after I was born, but for us the first family car was a 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass. Or, as my father called it, The Hutless Cutlass.
Me in front of the Hutless Cutlass a month before my fifth birthday, in Creighton, Saskatchewan. My father often took me fishing. When we lived in Creighton, we usually went fishing at the lakes and rivers right over the border in Manitoba. Here I’m holding a jackfish (northern pike), but what I really preferred to catch were pickerel (walleye).
My father bought it when we were living in Lethbridge, Alberta. The Hutless Cutlass travelled all over western Canada, both as we moved around the country and for many family road trips. With my youngest sister, it meant that there were six people packed into that car (dad sold it before my youngest brother was born). Invariably, whether we were in Creighton, Saskatchewan (on the border with Manitoba, next to Flin Flon) or Duncan, British Columbia, the road trip was to Lethbridge to visit family. Since my dad loves exploring, that car has probably driven over nearly every primary, secondary, and tertiary highway from the Pacific to Manitoba.
The Hutless Cutlass was old school – no power steering, no power brakes, no air conditioning. I remember it had a choke. From time to time, while checking under the hood, he’d have me open or close the choke, or rev the engine.
At the A&W Drive In in Terrace, British Columbia, with my sister and Mrs. Beasley.
One night, when I was about 13, my dad and I went to a hockey game in the small prairie town where we were living at the time. We got home pretty late. We didn’t pull into the driveway. Instead, we parked in front of the house, with the engine running. If memory serves, we were listening to the sports highlights on the radio. Somehow the conversation turned to me telling my dad what I knew about operating a car. I then bragged that I probably could even drive it. Dad doesn’t let it slide; rather, he says show me. So we switch seats and I drove very slowly and tentatively down our empty street at the edge of town.
Sometime when I was 13 or 14, my father traded the Hutless Cutlass in for an Oldsmobile Delta 88. It was a real land yacht, and the car in which I learned to drive and took my driving test. (I am always quick to point out I took my driving test during a blizzard – how Canadian!) When I was in grade eight or nine, sometime after my dad traded it in, I saw our old Hutless Cutlass parked downtown. Of course, I had to check it out. The interior had been completely redone in some sort of heavy metal decor. I particularly remember that the steering wheel had been replaced with a metal chain with the links welded together so that it formed a circle. That poor car.
James Lorenzo Nelson (1922 – 2008) was my grandfather Leo Burgess’s cousin. James had a distinguished career as a Royal Canadian Air Force pilot, which included a four-year stint assigned to the Royal Air Force. During his career, he served on 16 different kinds of aircraft and logged 8334 flying hours.
James Lorenzo Nelson
James was the second of the nine children of Lorenzo Snow Nelson and Mary Ireta Turner. However, James’s older sister Clea died within weeks of birth, so James essentially grew up as the eldest child.
When he was 20, James joined the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II, in October 1942. After training, James was transferred to Bomber Command in Leeming, Yorkshire, flying Halifax and Lancaster bombers. After the war, he remained in England as part of the post-war demobilization. During that time, he transported soldiers out of Italy, cleared armament dumps, disposed of unused bombs and ammunition by dropping them into the Irish and North Seas, and flew old aircraft to the “junk yard”. James was part of the last Canadian-crewed Lancaster flight.
This Lancaster is on display at the Bomber Command Museum of Canada in Nanton, Alberta. It is one of 17 remaining Lancasters in the world. It is also one of four Lancasters that can taxi under its own power. We were lucky enough to see the engines in operation during a test in 2016.
After the war, James returned home to Alberta and briefly spent some time as a grain buyer. Clearly the land was not where James’s heart laid, as he joined the Royal Air Force in 1947. James served with the #224 Squadron in Belfast, Ireland and with a detachment in Gibraltar. His duties included long-range meteorological reconnaissance. King George VI awarded James the Distinguished Flying Cross at Buckingham Palace on October 31, 1951. The commendation read:
This officer has served with No. 224/269 Squadron at Aldergrove and Gibraltar for two and a half years from March 1948 to 1951. During this time he has flown one hundred meteorological sorties, and on nine occasions he has experienced engine failure in flight. He has coped with these problems coolly and with exceptional skill, proving an excellent leader under most adverse conditions.
James completed his service with the Royal Air Force in 1951. He returned to Canada and immediately reenlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force. James was initially posted in Calgary and then later in Edmonton. During his time in Edmonton, James was awarded the Air Force Cross by Governor General Vincent Massey for his service. After four years in Edmonton, James was transferred to Training Command. In 1959, James served as Guard Commander during Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Regina. In 1967, James was transferred back to Edmonton to serve as Provincial Air Cadet Liaison Officer.
James serving as The Queen’s Guard Commander during her Royal Visit in 1959.
In 1953, while stationed in Calgary, James married Norma Dunford (1918 – 2004). Together they had two children, one of whom was a dentist. I am pretty sure he worked on my teeth, but I didn’t discover the familial connection until well after the fact.
After James left the military, he and Norma relocated to Penticton, British Columbia. James owned and operated a picture-framing business there from 1971 to 1976, when he sold the business. James spent his retirement in Oliver, British Columbia, spending his time golfing, fishing, hunting, and caring for a small fruit orchard. He died in 2008, at the age of 86.
If you’re a “Steeves” in North America, odds are you’re a direct descendant of Heinrich Stief and Regina Stahleker. In 1749, they emigrated from Münsingen in the Duchy of Württemberg (now southwest Germany) and settled in Pennsylvania. There they had seven sons. 250 years ago, in 1766, under land grants arranged by Benjamin Franklin and others, they moved to what is now New Brunswick and were amongst the original settlers of Moncton. The family later settled in Hillsborough, New Brunswick and there they started multiplying.
Apparently there are over 200,000 direct descendants of Heinrich and Regina. Our kids are two of them! At a family reunion in New Brunswick in 2016, there was an attempt to set a Guinness World Record for largest gathering of individuals with the same last name. Unfortunately, the attempt fell short.
Notable Steeves descendants include the Hon. William H. Steeves (one of the “Fathers of Confederation” of Canada), Jack Layton (late Leader of the Opposition in Canada’s parliament), Laurence J. Peter (author of The Peter Principle), and Janette Oke (author). A few years ago, I gave a presentation on “Law and Genealogy”, using my sons’ Steeves connection as a research example. Through sheer serendipity, the presenter who spoke before me was also a Steeves descendant, John Steeves, a now-retired Justice of the B.C. Supreme Court. Right before the program started, I leaned over and quietly asked him if it was okay to incorporate him into my presentation.
Coincidentally enough, our Steeves connection does not end there. Several years ago we moved to Steveston, a fishing village that is now part of Richmond, B.C. The village was founded by Manoah Steeves, who left New Brunswick with his wife Martha Taylor, dropped an “e” from his surname, bought land in the southwestern corner of Lulu Island in 1877, and established a dairy farm.
Manoah and Martha Steves
Nearly all of Lulu Island is now part of Richmond. In 1880, Manoah’s son William Herbert obtained a crown grant of the land that became the townsite of Steveston.
The streets in our neighbourhood share the names of Steeves relatives and places in New Brunswick. Manoah’s descendants still operate a farm on the land he originally purchased.
Harold has turned part of the house into a private museum. In addition to artifacts reflecting all aspects of his and the Steves family history of farming, politics, and conservation activism, Harold has turned part of the home into a recreation of the Hong Wo Store, a general store that had been established in 1895. Beside the Hong Wo store, Harold has recreated the canteen his parents operated during World War II, serving the soldiers stationed at a base beside the farm.
Harold opened up his museum to the general public earlier this year as part of “Doors Open Richmond”, a city-wide festival of culture and community operated by the Richmond Museum. Needless to say, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I could have spent days in there. His bookshelves alone could keep me occupied for weeks. Plus it was a chance for the boys to meet their fourth cousin three times removed! 😉
Steveston, B.C., or as you might recognize it from television, Storybrooke, Maine.
A Deck of Ancestors 