I recently read The Diary of Anne Frank. What an amazing and brave young gal she was. She started writing her diary at the tender age of 13, her writing skills were phenomenal…she would have put my blogging to shame. Her life tragically and sadly ended at the age of 15 but she has left a legacy that few can attest to.
Both my parents were born in Holland and were only 2 years younger than Anne Frank. Like Anne, they too were witness to the horrors of World War II and shared many tragic and frightening stories of Holland’s five year invasion by the Germans.
My mother’s family lived in a rural town. They had to build a secret hiding place in their home for my Opa to hide in when the German soldiers came looking for eligible men to work in the concentration camps. My Opa worked in a rope factory. He would bring home scraps of mats they made from the ropes. My Oma would line them with fabric on the inside, sew them together, and make lovely purses. My Opa would then take these purses to surrounding farmers in exchange for food.
Opa on my Dad’s side of the family was a cook in the army. German soldiers took over their family home and my Opa had to cook all their meals for them. Eventually they completely took over the house forcing my Dad’s family to live with other family. When they were finally able to return, the house had been completely trashed. My Dad was a fourteen year old “smart ass” and he told me that one time the German soldiers were marching down the street. He fell in behind them and started pinching their butts, until one of them turned around and smacked him across the face. He decided to back off. :)
There are many more stories - but no time to write them now. Here are some pics. My Dad on the far left - isn’t he cute?!
My Mom as a little girl - cute hat Mom! :)
And my parents on their wedding day - beautiful!