Tag: Dutch

52W Mark IV – Week 1 (Part Two): Card V1 Johannes van der Fluit and Teetje Pater

Theresia “Teetje” Pater (1894 – 1947)
Johannis Albertus van der Fluit (1894 – 1932)

Johannis Albertus van der Fluit (1894-1932) and Theresia “Teetje” Pater (1894-1947) were my father’s paternal grandparents. Teetje was two months older than Johannis. She was born on February 15 and he was born on April 14. My father never met either of them as they both died before he was born.

Johannis was born in ‘t Veld, North Holland. He was an agricultural worker most of his short life. Teetje was born in Waarland, North Holland, the same village where my father was born. Johannis and Teetje were third cousins. They were both direct descendants of Cornelis Klaasz de Groot and Geertje Jans de Wit, their great great grandparents and my Gx5 grandparents. Teetje is descended from their eldest son, Jan, while Johannis is descended from their youngest daughter, Elisabeth. This makes me my own sixth cousin!

The Netherlands used to have mandatory military service, although in practice most conscripts never really served; rather, it was more like a reserve militia or national guard. Johannis was conscripted in January 1914, when he was 19 years old. Johannis was assigned to the 21st Infantry Regiment based out of Den Helder. On my understanding of the militia register, Johannis remained enlisted until he died in 1932, at age 37. The militia register also shows that Johannis was 171 cm (5’6″), which today seems rather short for a Dutch man. He would certainly have been dwarfed by my father, my brothers, and me!

Johannis and Teetje’s engagement and marriage. Heldersche Courant August 8, 1917 page 4

Johannis and Teetje married in Harenkarspel, North Holland, on July 20, 1917. The witnesses were Jacob Smit, “brievengaarder” (an official charged with receiving or issuing mail at a location where there was no post office; their home served as an auxiliary post office), age 31, and Simon Brommer, [occupation illegible], age 61, both resident in Harenkarspel.

Marriage registration for Johannis and Teetje. The signatures on the left are Johannis, Teetje, Jan van der Fluit (Johannis’s father), and Jan Pater (Teetje’s mother). I’m uncertain about the one on the bottom, “T. Bleeker”, because Teetje’s mother was named Adriana. Adriana was still alive at the time and Teetje did not have any immediate family whose initial was “T”.

The Oude Niedorp Bevolkingsregister (“population register”) for 1910-1930 shows that in 1917 Johannis was working there as a hired worker. Johannis and Teetje relocated to Harenkarspel on November 13, 1919. According to the Harenkarspel Bevolkingsregister for 1920-1939, Johannis was a labourer in the employ of others when he moved into the gemeentje (municipality), but later became a self-employed farmer.

Apparently, Johannis sustained some sort of head injury after an accidental blow to the head. My belief is that this occurred sometime in or after 1930, when Johannis and Teetje’s youngest child, Anny, was born. My records also show that Johannis was still working as of 1930. In fact, the Bevolkingsregister for Harenkarspel shows that Johannis had lived there until January 19, 1932, when he relocated to Heiloo, where he died eight days later, on January 27, 1932. This timeline suggests that Johannis’s head injury may have occurred shortly before he was placed in the sanitorium.

Since Johannis died so young, I do not know many people who knew him. He died when my grandfather, Adrianus “Arie” van der Fluit (1923-2002) was eight years old. I only heard passing mentions of Johannis a long time ago, most likely second-hand because I don’t recall my grandfather ever talking to me about his father.

After his injury, Johannis began to exhibit strange behavior and suffered from delusions, which were very unsettling to him. Most likely he had developed a mental disorder. One account I heard was that during a delusional episode it took my grandfather’s two older brothers and some neighbours to restrain Johannis.

At some point in time, Johannis was placed in a sanitorium, where he continued to suffer from delerium. It is most likely the sanitorium was in Heiloo, the town where Johannis died. I know that Heiloo had a sanitorium at the time.

Sometime shortly before his death, Johannis experienced a period of rational thought. Teetje was summoned to see him, which occurred close to the time Johannis died. Teetje was 37 when she was widowed and was left to raise eight children on her own, the youngest of whom was one year old at the time.

Sometime after Johannis died, Teetje’s younger brother Johannes “Jan” Pater (1900 – 1948) moved in with Teetje and her children. Jan, who had a hunched back, had never married. Presumably he moved in with Teetje to help her after Johannis died.

Teetje died on May 27, 1947, after a long illness. She was buried at St. Wulfram’s Roman Catholic Church in Waarland, which I believe is the same place where Johannis was buried. Anny, their youngest child, was 17 when Teetje passed away.

Bidprentjes (prayer cards) for Johannis and Teetje.

52 Weeks Mark III – Week 6: Earning a Living

While most of my Dutch ancestors were farmers and labourers, it should come as no surprise that a few worked in windmills. On my father’s maternal side of the family, three of my Gx4 grandfathers were watermolenaaren (singular, watermolenaar – “water mill worker”). These were the windmills used for pumping water.

On my father’s paternal line, the surname “van der Fluit” may have originated with a windmill (“Fluijtermolen” – “Whistler Mill”) or the polder (“Fluitpolder”) on which it stood in Veur, Zuid-Holland (now part of Leidschendam). Alternatively, the windmill and polder might have been named after my ancestor, Johannes Dircks (“Jan”) (van der Fluit or Goeman) who owned or constructed them.

Me standing in front of the windmill in Waarland, Noord Holland, at more than a metre below sea level, about a kilometer from where my father was born and 200 metres from where he was baptized.

My paternal grandmother’s father was Adrianus Komen (1888-1948). Three of his four great grandfathers were all water mill workers. There is a strong possibility all three worked in the same windmill at the same time. I know that two of them, Nicolaas Cornelisz “Klaas” Komen (1786-1864) and Jan Smit (1786-1852) worked at the windmill located in Heerhugowaard, Noord Holland. However, the records I have consulted do not indicate when they worked in the windmill. At most, it is quite likely that Jan was working at the windmill until at least 1852.

I have no idea where and when the third, Johannes “Jan” Woltering (abt 1788-1834) worked in a windmill. I know that it was sometime before 1814, by which time he was working as a carpenter, as documented in the registration of his marriage. Unfortunately, the source from which I obtained the fact he had been a watermolenaar was simply an index and no longer exists. I have not found this item in other sources and records I’ve consulted. The population registers I have seen do not include his occupation. A notarial record I’ve found is dated 1817, which shows Jan working as a carpenter.

Despite this, I have reason to believe that Jan may have worked in the windmill in Heerhugowaard. Jan was born in 1788 in what is now Vreden, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany. Vreden is about three kilometers from the Dutch border. What he did between his birth and marriage I don’t know, but by 1814 he was living in Akersloot, Noord Holland, which is about 14 kilometers south of Heerhugowaard. After he married he lived and worked in Langedijk, Noord Holland, which is immediately adjacent to Heerhugowaard.

“De Valk” (The Falcon), a windmill in Leiden, Zuid Holland, about 10 kilometers from where Fluijtermolen once stood.

There is one fact in particular that makes me suspect Jan may have worked in the windmill in Heerhugowaard is that Jan Woltering’s son Cornelis married Jan Smit’s daughter Neeltje. Thus, it is possible that the families knew each other because Jan and Jan worked together in the same windmill. Then again, Heerhugowaard was not a large place in 1814 and it is quite possible they knew each other the way everyone in a small town tends to know each other.

Turning to Jan Dircks, the website for the municipality of Leidschendam-Voorburg used to have this information, which I have translated from Dutch:

The square and adjacent street between Prinsensingel, Noordsingel, de Amstelweg, and de Graaf Willem de Rijkelaan is called Fluitpolderplein. This was decided in 1970. But where does the “fluit” in “Fluit Polder” come from anyway? According to a historian of Veur, Hendrik Brouwer Schut, it may have something to do with the whistle of the grinding mills, or possibly the “fluitenkruid” (“cow parsley” or “Queen Anne’s lace” in English). [The Dutch name of the plant refers to the fact a flute or whistle can be made from the stem.] However, there may be a better explanation. In 1648 a large part of the territory of the polder already belonged to a certain Jan Dirckxz, who also went by the name “Fluijt”.

According to the street sign for Fluitpolderplein, the polder was located alongside the “Fluijtermolen” (Fluit Windmill), which was built around 1641. 

Am I named after the polder or is the polder named after me?

52W Mark II – Week 49: Family Recipe

Years ago on The Great Canadian Baking Show, one of the contestants said that she was using her *great* grandmother’s recipe. I have all sorts of recipes from my grandmothers (and copious notes on the recipes they didn’t write down that I’ve spent years trying to recreate). However, it never crossed my mind to think about my great grandmothers’ cooking. So the episode inspired me to ask my mother and mother-in-law if they had any of their grandmothers’ recipes.

My mother-in-law responded first and provided me with her maternal grandmother’s recipe for brown bread. I’m happy to have it, but I doubt I’ll ever make it. It not only calls for nine cups of flour, it also requires two cups of rolled oats. I know that nine cups of flour isn’t outlandish for two loaves of bread, but adding in all those oats, it strikes me as a lot. However, the real impediment is that while I love to cook, I do not enjoy baking – despite the fact I am a pretty good baker. Nevertheless, I am thrilled to have a recipe that our kids can say was their great great grandmothers! (In fact, writing that last sentence has me thinking that maybe I should make this recipe…)

My mother responded by saying that she didn’t think she had any. She reminded me that her maternal grandmother was not a very good cook. The one exception was that her grandmother made fantastic raisin drop cookies, which all the grandchildren loved. My mother doesn’t have the recipe, which is fine by me. The only thing more boring than raisin cookies is oatmeal cookies.

As for my grandmothers, I’ve written about their cooking in some detail before, but I can add a bit of an update.

This past summer we participated in a 16-week Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program through a local Richmond farm, Sweet Digz Farm. Overall, we had a very positive experience. What became apparent very early on was that a lot of the produce we were receiving lent itself to a lot of Dutch dishes. In particular, we had a lot of potatoes and kale, the key components of boerenkool stamppot (the Dutch were eating kale decades before it was cool and trendy in North America). My paternal grandmother often made stamppot, and it was awful. I knew I could do better.

My youngest and I went to a local butcher in Steveston Village and he selected the sausage for the recipe. (Sometime I will have to write about the Steeves family of New Brunswick, after whom the west coast village is named. My kids are Steeves descendants.) I also was a bit non-traditional with my stamppot. While there are no hard and fast rules, stamppot is usually potatoes and kale, while a combination of potatoes, onions, and carrots is hutspot. I was a rebel and not only used potatoes, carrots, and kale in the same dish, I used a few kohlrabi in place of a couple potatoes.

If I say so myself, it turned out amazing, and needless to say, much better than my grandmother’s. Not only that, but everyone in the family loved it and wanted seconds. While my family are generally not picky eaters, there are very few things that appeal to all of them. There’s always something I can tell someone is less than thrilled with. Even moreso with the Dutch foods I make – there’s always one who loves it and one for whom the dish is not for them. Pity, because in the winter months I really could go for some snert. A few days later I made shepherds pie (another universal favourite), but used leftover stamppot instead of the typcial mashed potatoes. Another win!

The biggest score, however, was during a visit to my mother’s a year ago. She distractedly removed an item from the back of a shelf and casually said, “oh, it’s my mother’s recipe book.” Yes, my head exploded. I had been asking her for years if she would find it for me sometime. I immediately absconded with it and photographed every page. The vast majority of the recipes were her desserts and sweet dishes but very few of her savoury dishes. However, a few of the savoury dishes seemed familiar – they were things my mother made, but in a whole different way. I could see how my mother adapted and changed her mother’s recipes over time – just as I do with my mother’s recipes!

My maternal grandmother’s recipe book.

My grandmother also wrote down a few non-culinary recipes, such as this Recipe to Unshrink Woolens:

There were also a lot of clippings of recipes from magazines and product packaging. This was an advertisement on the reverse side of a recipe my grandmother clipped from a magazine in the 1970s:

I suspect those scientists – and their successors – remained frightened, and rightfully so.

52W Mark II – Week 31: Flew The Coop

This week’s theme for the week’s 52 Ancestors Challenge is “Flew The Coop”. I’m making a real stretch of the phrase to write about my recent visit to Pier 21, where my father and his family arrived in Canada after emigrating from the Netherlands. They arrived on board the Sibajak in early 1954. My father’s aunt and uncle had arrived at Pier 21 four months earlier, in January 1954 on the Groote Beer, while another aunt and uncle followed in late May 1954, on board the Castel Felice.

Entrance to Pier 21

This was not my first visit to Pier 21 (analogous to Ellis Island in the United States), but it had been many years since my last visit. The displays are significantly different; moreover, the museum has strictly implemented privacy rules that means they don’t display ship passenger lists like they used to. I find their policy a little illogical, because the researchers on site will happily use other sources for the same information that aren’t subject to the same rules.

We began with watching in Canada/au Canada. It’s an excellent and moving short film weaving together the stories of many immigrants from countries all around the world and who have settled in all sorts of places, big and small, across Canada. We then participated in a guided tour. The tour was available in English and French. I felt bad for the fellow offering the tour in French – he had no takers at that time. I told him that my wife and kids would have gone with him if it weren’t for my lack of proficiency in French.

Our tour guide began by asking if anyone had family or friends who had come through Pier 21. Most of us on the tour raised our hands. One woman in our group had come through herself, at 18 months old, with her mother who was a war bride. The tour guide immediately welcomed her back and gave her a gold “Alumni” sticker to wear.

This hangs on the wall in front of the seating area where immigrants waited to be interviewed by immigration officials.

The tour began with at this model of Pier 21 as it was at the time it was in operation. The building on the left no longer exists. The guide showed the path of the immigrants as they disembarked from the ship and the steps they went through before being able to leave. We were told that if everything went without a hitch, people could be off the ship and on the train in four to six hours. However, most people were usually in and out within a day.

There were many displays recreating the immigrant experience. One was of the interior of typical tourist class accommodations and amenities. On the opposite wall were photos of many of the immigrant ships that landed at Pier 21.

The SS Sibajak, the ship that brought my father, his parents, and his siblings to Canada.
My son and I sitting on the benches in the waiting room where my father would have sat with his family upon arriving in Canada almost 70 years ago.

The museum has something for visitors of all ages, with lots of interactive and immersive displays. I think our youngest must have watched every video that accompanied the exhibits. There were also lots of crafting and other hands-on activities for the kids.

One of the activities was to decorate a baggage tag showing the name of your immigrant family member and stringing it from their point of origin to their destination. Our youngest made one honouring his grandfather.

A temporary exhibit we were lucky to see was “Destination: Canada”:

In 2022, the Consulate General of the Kingdom of the Netherlands published a graphic novel called “Destination: Canada”, telling the story of ten Dutch immigrants, illustrated by ten comic book artists. The Museum has adapted two of these stories for a special exhibit, presenting the story of George Zwaagstra, a Pier 21 immigrant and volunteer, and Tayebeh Farooqi-Wahedi, a refugee from Afghanistan and immigrant from the Netherlands.

From the Pier 21 page, Destination: Canada
One of the panels of Destination: Canada on display on the wall at Pier 21.

Needless to say, being the son of a Dutch immigrant I had to buy my own copy!