The Bea tribute video link

 Bea tribute.pptx 

Click on the link, then go to "Slide Show" and click on it, go to the far left and click on "from the beginning" and you can hear the accompanying music.

    The video is about 18 minutes.

Beatrice A. Van Thyn

   Beatrice A. Van Thyn, 80, passed away Saturday, October 18, 2025, at Trinity Terrace in Fort Worth, Texas, after months of dementia and uterine cancer.

      Born April 5, 1945, in Ringgold, Louisiana, to Howard C. and Laura Alice Shaw, she was raised in Jamestown -- 5 miles from Ringgold -- and attended schools in both places, graduating from Ringgold High in 1963.

      She attended Louisiana College and LSU-Shreveport, and worked a variety of jobs for many years. Her most enjoyable venture was as an antiques and collectibles dealer for a decade.

      She married twice, the second time to Nico Van Thyn in Shreveport; they were married for 48 years, eight months and 12 days. 

       She had three children -- Melissa, stillborn at birth; Jason Key, 1974; and Rachel Van Thyn, 1979.

        She resided in places as varied as Memphis; Shreveport for a decade; Kailua, Hawaii; Jacksonville, Florida (twice); Knoxville, Tennessee; and finally in Texas for almost 24 years -- North Richland Hills and then Fort Worth.        

    Her final 7 1/2 years were as a resident of Trinity Terrace, a seniors community, where she was loved, respected and admired.

        She was preceded in death by her parents and her in-laws, and younger brother-by-two years Howard Shaw.

        Survivors include Nico, Jason and Rachel; four grandchildren -- Josephine "Josie" Smith, Jacob Key, Kaden Key; and Eli Smith; younger sisters Brenda Chastain (husband Noah "Bucky") and Alice Woodard (husband Leonard); son-in-law Russell Smith; sister-in-laws  Nance Shaw and Elsa Van Thyn (husband Jim Wellen); first husband Jerry Key; and  numerous nieces and nephews.

       She faced several physical challenges through the years, particularly as a two-time cancer survivor.

       She was a very smart, kind, compassionate, well-read, knowledgeable, upbeat person who loved to cook and color and travel. She was selfless; an understanding wife; and mostly a proud, dedicated mother and Granny.  

         She did not want a memorial service, and she donated her body to the UNT Health Science Center in Fort Worth for medical research. Eventually her remains will return to North Louisiana to be with her parents. 

The beautiful Beatrice

      She was, no question, the most important person in my life.

      The day I met Beatrice -- she was wearing pink and looking attractive -- was the luckiest day of my lucky life. Little did I know that day would turn into 49 years of being blessed.

       She gave me my two greatest gifts -- the beautiful little blond boy who charmed me from our first meeting (he was 2 when she brought him to my apartment) and the strawberry blonde baby girl who made us a complete family.

        They were the most precious pieces of her life.

        I hurt for those kids today; I have for months. I know their hearts were breaking these past two years, but especially the last five months when the outcome was inevitable.

        The beautiful Beatrice -- and she was beautiful in so many ways -- left us Saturday afternoon, her life complete after 80-plus years. She passed away in the memory-care unit at Trinity Terrace, our seniors residency since June 2018.

        Dementia really took so much of her from us, but it was uterine cancer -- diagnosed in mid-May -- that diminished her as time wound down. 

       So, really, no surprise Saturday. The tough part was knowing that the call would come one day soon. The grief is cumulative, starting months ago, and there were many fitful nights, waking at all hours and contemplating just how to handle this.

        It was, honestly, difficult to answer the many inquiries: "How's Bea?" What do you say, other than, "not good." The details were discouraging.

         But bless all the people who cared, so many of you. So grateful for all the support -- here at Trinity Terrace, from the Friday morning support group at the James L. West Center across the street, from my friends in Louisiana and Fort Worth-Dallas, and far beyond (Hawaii, my home country the Netherlands, Belgium, Israel). 

       Also, thanks so much to the nurses and staff in memory care and in skilled nursing at Trinity Terrace. They loved her, cared for her. And it was difficult; those are hard jobs. 

        Same, too, for the Hospice+ staffers who tried to make her comfortable in so many ways.

        The feeling, in the everyday visits to the memory-care unit, was helplessness. And sadness, just to see her struggle, to see the loss of bodily functions, the loss to communicate.  

        It was so unlike her to have to depend on help for almost everything. This was one independent, determined woman.

---

      Why she loved me so I spent years trying to comprehend. But she did, thank goodness. I surely tested her ... repeatedly.

       As one of my friends said yesterday, "she put up with you for all these years."

       I could not have done better. Trusted her completely (she could not say the same of me).

       She was my best friend, my biggest supporter, my conscience. I depended on her counsel. I would bounce ideas off her, let her read my stories. Because I knew she would give me an honest opinion.

       She was the most honest person I've known, a rules follower (I often am not).

       If she saw something she didn't think would play well, she would make a suggestion for improvement. One constant was that she said that I wrote too long, had too many off-course turns. She was usually right (but that didn't mean I always would make changes).

       She saw me get verbally berated -- job-related -- a couple of times. To her great credit, she stayed calm and, hard to believe, so did I.

       And I never, ever, saw her berate anyone ... outside of our little family. 

       She was a dedicated, passionate mother. She loved those kids, and she always knew what to do to make their lives better. She spoiled them -- so here we clashed some -- but if they did not meet the Bea standards, she would let them know. 

       I see those kids today as dedicated, passionate parents -- because they had a role model (and it wasn't me).

       She was a kind, compassionate person, willing to help anyone she thought needed it. She volunteered for many ventures, especially when the kids were still in school.

       But let's be honest. We clashed often; there were many battles. It was, as I've said often, a happy marriage ... some years. 

       Look, she had a stubborn, obstinate side. She could be caustically critical; she often was a devil's advocate, just for the hell of it. And nice as she was, if she thought a person was a phony, or a BS-er, or had mistreated someone she loved or cared for, she would mostly cut them out of her life 

       She was tough and resilient. She had plenty of physical challenges -- two colon-cancer battles, and she survived, and two major surgeries, chemo, radiation...

       My star-crossed career meant multiple (many) moves. She always adapted, arranged the moves, made a comfortable home for us, and always found a job (or two, if needed). She was willing to try anything, even a stint in newspaper work (editorial department assistant). 

       Too bad that the many moves, and marriage/motherhood, kept her from earning a college degree. Because she was an A-plus student when she was in school. She was so intelligent -- much more so than me.

      She loved to read and stayed interested in the current news. Loved to cook, loved to eat, travel, and she so enjoyed her coloring books (many hours spent that way, and especially with granddaughter Josie). 

      For a decade -- in Tennessee and then in Texas -- she found the job she really loved, as an antiques/collectibles dealer. It was challenging, and not a big money-maker, but it was the most rewarding part of her life, other than being a mother and Granny.

     Proof of her resolve: She was a smoker for 30-plus years. She liked smoking; a pack-and-a-half a day was routine. The danger didn't matter. But when her Dad -- her main smoking partner -- died, she quit not long after. Cold. It was not easy. But she never smoked again.  (She did like a drink or two, but not in excess. She was funny with a couple of drinks.)

      She was a sports fan when we met, thank goodness. It became a big part of her life, of course, but I was enough of a fanatic for both of us (because of that, she got her fill of it). But watching Jason play soccer for 11 years, she sat through hundreds of games ... in all kinds of weather, and in many places.

     And one night in middle-school football, when Jason carried the opening kickoff to the end zone, the usually demure Bea stood and screamed, "Go, baby, go!"

      There also was this moment: Jason's high school soccer team (Orange Park, Florida) playing, and Bea sitting next to the mother of a star player. Down the way in the stands, a "fan" hollering encouragement -- positive, I swear -- to Jason's team, mixed with a few helpful  suggestions for the referee and linesmen. "Who is that idiot?" the woman inquired of Bea. The reply: "That's my idiot."

     She not a braggart; she was selfless. The thought of this blog would have had her rolling her eyes. 

     But she was proud, and her proudest time -- she referenced this often, with tears -- was how she sat with my mother, our Oma Rose, in her final weeks.

    Bea stayed in Shreveport to care for her after Mom's fall and broken hip, and stay in a rehab facility. Bea came home for one  weekend and when she returned, Mom said, "Please don't leave me again." She didn't, and she was holding Mom's hand when she passed away on a Sunday morning. 

--- 

       The decline began with finances. Since the start of our marriage, she had done the banking/bill paying; we found that it worked better for us that way. Neither of us were big spenders, nor where we big earners.

        She craftily worked us out of debt at one point, and while she liked nice things, she was thrifty, and not materialistic. 

       But as her short-term memory kept slipping, a loss for words, sentences not finished, thoughts scattered, she no longer could do the bills and checkbook. So I took that over. 

      Soon, it was the laundry, and the grocery shopping. And the medical/dental and other appointments. Cooking became a problem; that stove was hot. 

       Using the microwave was difficult; how to set the timer for even simple tasks. Computer use was frustrating. Answering the phone or making a call was confusing. 

      Her coloring pencils and coloring books were stashed in about a half dozen containers -- not kidding -- all over the apartment. She arranged, and re-arranged them daily ... for hours at a time.

       Two pair of her glasses disappeared (found them a month later, buried deep in a clothes bin in the closet). Her Trinity Terrace name tag was gone (found it a year later, a couple of weeks ago, buried in a trunk in our living room with more coloring books and pencils).

      Banana peelings were everywhere, stufffed in drawers, even in the bathroom. Band-aids, for some reason, also were everywhere. 

       The falls were more frequent, more scary. A couple of times she wandered out of the apartment -- I was gone -- and security one day spotted her in the stairwell on the second floor (we live on the sixth floor). Worse yet, almost every night she asked where she was supposed to sleep. And a dozen times, where to go to use the bathroom (several times she started out the apartment door to find a place to go).

     Caring for her in the apartment became an increasing challenge. She fell so often and it reached a point where I no longer could help her up. Had to call security for assistance repeatedly, including once at 4 a.m. She didn't want me to do it, argued, but I had to.

        She was mostly fortunate not to be badly injured, other than bruises. But a fall on her face in the bathroom was scary. No breaks (nose, teeth), but two black eyes and purple-green-yellow bruises for weeks. 

       And then in mid-April, she called me into the bathroom and pointed out the blood in the toilet. Night after night, blood spots, a couple of times more severe. 

       Finally, after too long, an appointment with a gynecologist. A Pap smear and a bioposy, and the doctor told me, "It looks like cancer." Samples were sent to be tested. Two days later, he called and said, "It is cancer. You need to see an onconlogist."

       That visit came quickly. He was direct: "It is a high-grade, poorly differential uterine cancer."

        One option: Surgery and mandatory chemo. Bea heard him -- Jason and I let her make the call -- and said no. For years she had insisted she would never do surgery or chemo again.

       Jason asked about a time frame; the doctor gave us one. Only other option: palliative radiation. We never got there.

        That made one choice easy: We needed to place her in skilled nursing at Trinity Terrace. Done, on Memorial Day. And we began hospice care that day.

        After six weeks there, with her falling repeatedly -- thinking she could still walk without help -- the staff there daily placed her at the nurses' station with her coloring books and pencils, just to keep her from moving around.

      Then they called me in, and said we think she should be in memory care. So we made that move. It got more difficult from that point, and the cancer spread. 

       Can't say for sure, but have to believe that her brain was affected the past couple of weeks. The blank stares, the lack of response many days, finally the inability to talk -- she could only mumble and it was nearly impossible to understand -- and trouble swallowing. 

      She was given small doses of morphine to alleviate the pain the past couple of weeks.

      The staff felt that she had a couple of TIAs (minor strokes), and that she didn't have use of her left arm and hand for a few weeks. The most recent episode was only a few days ago; staff and the hospice nurses noticed a significant decline.

    Her final couple of months were spent either in bed or in a wheelchair/recliner. She ate little, could do little other than stare into space. It was a miserable existence. And still there were many sweet expressions from her toward the staffers treating her. I saw that. 

     Plus, I was able to get a few grins from her with my usual silliness, and usually with recalls of things the grandkids did or said many years ago ("great job, Granny!" and "I made a big old mess.")

       Oh, she loved those kids so much.

       Rachel and her kids saw her a couple of weeks ago. So did Jason and his boys. Sister Alice with husband Leonard made a visit on Thursday. Bea knew they were there; she smiled and tried to talk.

        So often these past months, she would say to me, "Take me home." One day she said, "Get me out of this jail." I always told her the nurses and staff were there to take care of her.

       But she will be going home. She donated her body to the UNT Health Science Center here in Fort Worth for medical research. When they are done, she will be cremated.

        She did not want a memorial service. An obit, this blog and a video tribute will suffice. But eventually we are going to take her ashes back to Northwest Louisiana and spread them where her parents are buried in Providence Cemetery between Ringgold and her home town, Jamestown.

          She was my sweetheart, our sweetheart, a beautiful person. Our Beatrice. May her memory be a blessing.   

        (And, yes, she would say that this piece is much too long. But, darn it, she deserves it.) 

---     

Bea tribute.pptx 

Mom's appearance in an Iowa museum

        An update on a blog piece we published on January 30 of this year ...

       This is in reference to Mom (Rose Van Thyn) being part of a Holocaust-related  museum exhibit in Danville, Iowa.

       We received a note from Dr. Stephen J. Gaies, who was our original contact for this endeavor.

     He wrote: "The railcar exhibit at the Anne Frank Penpal Museum was officially opened on June 12."

      That's fine with us. As we wrote previously, we are honored that Mom (and Dad, Louis Van Thyn) are being remembered -- in Iowa -- all these years after they left us.

      Dr. Gaies, a University of Northern Iowa professor with a long background in Holocaust and genocide education, is a consultant for this museum. He referenced Janet Hesler, the museum founder and director and the guiding force for this exhibit.

     Mrs. Hesler provided photos of Mom's part of the exhibit, which are included here, and Dr.  Gaies included a sheet of supplementary information on Mom, which is accessible through a QR code.

     Mrs. Hesler also told Dr. Gaies that "she recently received a phone call and a check from Ron and Jackie Nierman from Shreveport in memory of your parents."

     Thanks to everyone for caring and remembering. Mom and Dad would have liked it, and I know my sister Elsa and her family are appreciative, too.

---

      Link to the supplementary information: https://1drv.ms/w/c/bab4ca9d15529a50/Ed8DKKJzQTFCo0y-nKjZZkMBj7u21yVB6kkY743zSf2Eqg?e=dBj8SW

---

      Here is a link to the earlier blog piece: 

https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2025/01/mom-dad-making-appearance-in-iowa.html 

      

Dave Nitz to the rescue

        Almost everyone who knew him fairly well has a Dave Nitz story. Here is mine.

      He rescued me once from having to do play-by-play of a basketball game.

      Those of us with Louisiana ties -- especially North Louisiana -- know that Dave is one of the most accomplished sports radio broadcasters of our time. 

      His affiliation with Louisiana Tech University athletics spanned almost 50 years, and he was the Shreveport baseball -- most the Captains -- play-by-play radio man for 20 years.

      He was dedicated and knowledgeable, personable (always with some stories), fun ... and talented. We all loved "Freeway Dave." He did love to travel, mostly by car.

      Give us Jim Hawthorne, Tim Brando and Nitz, and you've got "The Big Three" of northwest Louisiana broadcasting fame. 

       They were the modern-day successor to IZ, Irv Zeidman, the Shreveport Sports baseball/Centenary College basketball "voice" of the 1950s/early 1960s.

        We all listened to Nitz for hundreds -- maybe a couple of thousands -- of games (football, basketball, baseball) over the years. You had to love it!

         Dave passed away Tuesday at age 82, and we are sad. He was a character to remember.

         It was a pleasure to occasionally sit in with Nitz in the broadcast booth or on the basketball media table. And one memorable weekend is my "Nitz story."

---

       The week before Christmas, 1979, Dave was broadcasting Louisiana Tech women's basketball but also had agreed to do three Centenary College men's basketball games in New York (City and state).

        Jim Hawthorne had been Centenary's play-by-play guy for much of the 1970s -- before, during and after the Robert Parish era. But starting with the 1979-80 season, he had been hired to be LSU men's basketball announcer.

         Tracy Jackson -- who operated the Manpower temporary employment agency in Shreveport -- had play-by-play experience and did some Centenary games early that season. But he and wife Jo had a large family and he wanted that Christmas time with them, so he wasn't available for the New York trip.

          Centenary was scheduled to play Long Island University on Thursday night, then Siena College in Loudonville, N.Y. -- near Albany, three hours from New York City -- on Saturday night, and finally national power St. John's University in Queens on Sunday night.         

         It just so happened that the Louisiana Tech Lady Techsters were going to play in a big holiday tournament at Madison Square Garden that weekend.

         So Nitz was going to be in NYC, and we needed a play-by-play announcer for the Centenary games. Ah, yes, Nitz would do it.

         And as the Centenary sports information director for four years I was the "color" analyst for the road games, butting in to Hawthorne's play-by-play for much of that time.

There was a catch to Nitz's availability. The Lady Techsters, who the previous season had emerged as a national power (a status they would maintain for two decades), were playing in a tournament in Las Vegas early that week. They won that title and the team -- and Nitz -- flew to New York City on Thursday.

        Fine, except the time frame was short. Centenary's game with Long Island actually was in Brooklyn. So the question was, when and how would Nitz find the game's location?

         (It was a weird setting. The Schwartz Athletic Center was a gymnasium converted from an auditorium -- it once had been a theater -- and it was on the third floor of a building attached to  LIU's main building. Go figure -- Long Island U. in Brooklyn?)

          Game time, thankfully, was 8 p.m. (Eastern time). I had brought the radio equipment and set it up, and actually started the pregame broadcast.

         Quick note: I had never done play-by-play on radio, in public. Had been the "sidekick" -- analyst -- for high school football games and Centenary basketball. But the only play-by-play I'd done, many times, was in the bedroom of our home in Sunset Acres. 

         Never desired to do play-by-play on radio. Not my thing. (Would have been worse on television.)

         But game time was close, Nitz wasn't there. Oh, my .. where is he? I am not relishing this.

         And then ... two minutes to tipoff: Here's Dave!

         Freeway Dave to the rescue. Actually, Subway Dave ... because -- experienced and savvy traveler he was -- he had found his way to Brooklyn by subway and then a cab to LIU.

          Very times in my life was I happier to see someone than Dave that night.

           And it was a wild game to broadcast -- a 114-101 game, Centenary on the short end. But what a pleasure to do the game with Dave.

--- 

          Even better was the Saturday experience. First, Dave broadcast the Lady Techsters' game with Rutgers at "The Garden," which -- again, thankfully -- had a 1 p.m. start. High-profile matchup, which the Techsters won 89-83 in overtime. Got to sit with Dave at press row on the Garden floor.

           Then, we were off to Centenary's 8 p.m. game at Siena. Rode the train to Albany -- a neat trip near the Hudson River, and a passenger's view of the U.S. Military Academy. Caught a cab from the train station, and broadcast a good effort by Centenary but an 86-82 loss. Still fun.

           The next day, Sunday, back to Madison Square Garden and the Techsters' thrilling victory against powerful Old Dominion, 59-57. Tech's record after that: 16-1.

           That night, we made our way to Queens for Centenary's test against a talented St. John's team, one of the many powers for legendary coach Lou Carnesseca. I did a pregame interview with him, and he was very nice (to a radio novice). Centenary was no match for Lou's team; the final was 92-72.,

           What a weekend with Nitz.

---

           A follow-up: The Centenary team that had a 1-8 record (the victory had been in the season opener) after the New York trip improved slowly, then blossomed in March and wound up with a winning record and as the Trans America Athletic Conference postseason tournament champions.

         The Lady Techsters made the national semifinals (it was the AIAW then) for a rematch with Old Dominion (which starred Nancy Lieberman, Anne Donovan and Rhonda Rampolo). ODU won that one easily, but Tech's final 40-5 record was a sign of great things to come in the future.

          One other Nitz connection with me: The first Louisiana Tech events he broadcast were the games in the 1974 NCAA baseball regional at old Arlington Stadium. I covered that for The Shreveport Times, an early career highlight. 

         The University of Texas had one of the nation's best college baseball progams, but Tech darned near earned a College World Series trip, beating the Longhorns to reach the winners' bracket. Texas came back to top Tech twice. 

           It was a heckuva start for Nitz's career at Tech. He was a "new" guy for all of us then and became a legend over time. 

           We remember him fondly, and we are thankful for the memories. 

          

A heartfelt message

     Like to wear the shirt with this message  because every time I do, people comment on it.

     Special reason for posting it with this blog because ... today marks an anniversary.

     Five years ago today doctors saved my life. It was the day of the triple bypass for my heart.

     Hello, glad to be here.

     I feel fine, although, well, five years older. Still exercising, but not quite as much as before the 2019-20 discomfort down my left arm told me that -- maybe -- something wasn't right.

     But no issues now, other than sore knees and sore feet from my walks and exercise classes. Yes, still walking 2-3 times a week (and for those of you who know, still picking up loose coins and sometimes even paper money).

     I weigh more than I need to because the ice cream, cookies and cake I so like much take up residence around my (expanded) waist.

     Don't like thinking about it, or looking at it. But it doesn't keep me from activities ... or eating. 

      Life's good, although it has its issues. Staying busy here at Trinity Terrace, our seniors residency in Fort Worth, but did give up "recruiting" for The Country Store volunteers and stocking between store shifts. Six years was enough of that.

     Still organizing our weekly Thursday afternoon Social Hour, lining up program guests -- speakers or music or special events -- and, without panicking, trying to find replacements for the occasional late postponements.

      That's fun.

      Trying to spend more time with my best friend and roommate of 48 years, the beautiful and intelligent Beatrice. She is facing some challenges. Please excuse that I don't want to go into much detail.

      So appreciative and proud of our family -- the kids (Jason and Rachel, and son-in-law Russell) and our  spectacular and interesting grandkids -- Josie, 17; Jacob, 16; Kaden, 14; Eli, 10. My gosh, they are growing up.

     Plus, the extended Van Thyn/Wellen and Shaw-related families. 

      And we've gotten so much love and support from the friends from far back -- Shreveport-Bossier/North Louisiana/Louisiana, in general, all the way to Israel, Belgium and, of course, the Netherlands, where it all began for me.

     Also, the friends we've made over the years in athletics and newspapers, and since our move to Fort Worth in late 2001 and especially Trinity Terrace in June 2018.

      Maybe it's corny to say, but my heart is full. And it works.

       It is difficult to learn of the deaths of so many friends these days, especially those from way back in Shreveport-Bossier and the more recent ones here at Trinity Terrace.  

       Back to May 2020, when the pandemic kept me from having any visitors during the eight-day hospital stay. Let's say that the first month after the surgery -- before starting rehab -- was as painful and difficult as I have ever faced physically.

      After a couple of weeks, when every move hurt, Bea and I went for a walk in a nearby parking lot. It was slanted, and going downhill was slow but no problem. A couple of steps uphill, and nope, time to go home.

      Soon, I was stronger and the six weeks of rehab actually was kind of good. Still, I would prefer not to have to do it again.

      Kept my little blue pillow, which pressed against my heart area, eased the pain for the first month after surgery. It's right here next to my desk. Just a reminder.

      An older man here, learning of my triple bypass, told me then that he had his triple 15 years earlier. So it's now 20 years for him ... and he just turned 100. So there.

      No guarantees, of course, but 100 looks a long way off. I'll take 78 in a less than a month.

      And if I'm lucky, I will write about the 10-year anniversary five years from now. Stay tuned.  

---

     From five years ago -- the triple bypass adventure:

https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2020/05/its-heart-that-counts-most.html

     

Mom, Dad making an appearance in Iowa

      Mom's influence, her dedication to educating the world about the Holocaust, is still being felt ... in Iowa.
      Yes, Iowa. You read that correctly. Danville, Iowa, to be exact, a small farming community in the southeast part of the state.

Our young Rose

      Good timing, too. The day after this year's International Holocaust Remembrance Day, we received a note -- through a longtime friend -- from a man in Iowa asking for permission to use photos of Mom (and Dad) and one of her poems in a Holocaust-related museum.
      The Danville Station, a library-museum featuring the "Anne Frank Pen Pal Letters." It is a non-for-profit cultural institution.
      Intriguing? Indeed.
      Mom, who for 25 years talked and wrote so often about the Holocaust, has been gone 14 1/2 years (Dad for 16 1/2). But they would be so proud of an exhibit being put together in that museum to  honor them.
      We -- their family -- are pleased, and happy to help.
      In a world where Holocaust education seems to be dwindling as much as the actual survivors of that horror, this is a small bit of encouragement. 
      So were the responses we received this week about our (annual) post/e-mail on Holocaust Remembrance Day. We will never forget, or -- as one friend pointed out -- forgive.
    (And we don't approve of  Elon Musk's clownish "salute," or whatever he did, and certainly not of his coddling of Germany's far-right -- yeah, Nazi-leaning -- political party. He's not stupid, but that was. C'mon, he knows what a Nazi salute looks like. So why even go there?) 
---

    Back to the story, the Anne Frank-Rose Van Thyn connection of sorts.
     The origin of this tale is a note from Dr.  Stephen J. Gaies, who was director of the Center for Holocaust and Genocide Education and a professor emeritus in the department of languages and literatures at the University of Northern Iowa. He is now a consultant to the Danville museum, which opened in 2018.  

    He was writing our old friend Thomas Aswell (from Ruston, Louisiana Tech and now living in the Baton Rouge area where he is a longtime political journalist, and a good one.)
    Dr. Gaies: "I am writing about gaining permission to use a photograph that appeared in an article you published in Louisiana Voice on November 1, 2016 ..." (about the book Survivors: 62511, 70726, our family's story and that of my parents' Holocaust concentration camp experiences.)   
    He explained that he was helping design the museum's permanent exhibit and "featuring one of Rose Van Thyn's poems ('Where To') in a new part of the museum." They also want to include some images as part of the description of her life.

    While Dr. Gaies was our contact, he stresses that Janet Hesler is "the founder, director and 'soul' of the museum and this exhibit."
    Certainly, we granted permission. And we did send a good number of photos and blog pieces to hopefully enhance the exhibit.
---
     Now, to tell how Anne Frank (and her sister) figure into this story. 
     "It's an honor to tell your mother's (and father's) story to visitors [at the museum]," Dr. Gaies wrote. "Let me tell you ... how we plan to incorporate a sample of your mother's poetry and information about her life and accomplishments into the new exhibit area.
   Mrs. Hesler: "The Anne Frank letters began in 1939 when our teacher at Danville, Miss Birdie Mathews, started an international correspondence exchange program for her students.

        "The students drew names and Juanita Wagner drew the name of Anne Frank. The Wagner sisters (Betty and Juanita) wrote a letter to Anne and on April 29, 1940, two letters and a postcard arrived in the mail from Anne and her sister Margot.

    "Eleven days later the Nazis invaded Holland, so this is the only correspondence that we have."

      "The original letters are in the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles and we have the only copies of them in the world."

      Dr. Gaies: "It wasn't until a few decades after the war, when Anne Frank started to become a central figure in America's representation of the Holocaust, that the significance of this letter was recognized. A small local museum was created in Danville to preserve this small bit of history." 

---

     Also at the museum is an  authenic pre-WW II cattle-car train, the kind  used to transport so many people -- mostly Jews -- to the concentration camps (Mom included, her ride to Auschwitz.)

     Dr. Gaies: "Years of efforts to obtain a WW II-era railcar similar to those used for deportations from Westerbork (the transit camp in eastern Netherlands) finally bore fruit, and a railcar was located and restored in Germany and shipped to Danville, arriving in 2023. 
     "An enclosure has been built to protect the railcar from Iowa's harsh weather. One wall of the enclosure is clear; the other three inside walls of the enclosure are new exhibit space. A museum design firm has been contracted to transform our ideas for the exhibit."

     Key to the purchase of the rail car, Mrs. Hesler pointed out, was the Iowa Economic  Development Authority. 

     "Through the grant 'Destination Iowa,' she wrote, "we have received $745,000 to obtain, refurbish, and ship the railcar" and also "construct the building with three wall exhibits that tell the story of the Westerbork camp and well as the rescuers that risked so much for others."

--- 

     Dr. Gaies: "Your mother's poem and a photo of her will appear together with an excerpt from a letter by and an image of Etty Hillesum, in a section entitled, 'Writing About Deportation.' ...

     "We are including a QR code that will link visitors to a webpage containing supplementary information about your mother's life. The information will include a prose summary, a timeline and a list of selected references, together with additional images, we hope. 

     "Etty Hillesum will have a different QR code and supplementary information webpage, as will two Dutch rescuers we are featuring in another section of the exhibit.
     "Even though the museum is off the beaten track, it already gets thousands of visitors each year, and there is every expectation that with the new exhibit and increasing publicity abut the railcar, attendance (including school visits) will continue to increase.
     "So I feel that this is a wonderful new opportunity to share your mother's -- indeed, your family's -- story with a world that can only benefit from learning about your parents' courage and resilience."
     We agree, and we are grateful. We will not forget.

Becoming a citizen: "I love it so much"

     For Gillian Boonzaier -- usually the first person people meet when they enter our residency (Trinity Terrace in Fort Worth) -- the American dream came true. 
      She now is an American citizen.
      On Wednesday morning, September 25, Gillian took the oath of U.S. citizenship -- some 20 years after moving with her family from South Africa to this country.
     She was one of 531 immigrants who took the oath at the Plano Events Center. It was one of three ceremonies that day, with another 1,000 or so also celebrating the achievement.

      Gillian's two daughters and one of her two grandsons witnessed a moving moment in her life. (She also has a son, and another grandson is due in December.)

      "It was so well-organized," Gillian said of the ceremony. "I knew it would be emotional, but it was more emotional than I thought it would be.

     "I cried."

     Because of the large crowd, the citizens-to-be were asked to be present by 8 a.m. -- so the trip from Fort Worth to Plano meant a very early departure -- and there was a wait of more than an hour before the ceremony began.

     There was a brief video about Ellis Island, where for more than 50 years through 1954 millions of immigrants were processed upon entering the U.S. An appeal to become voters and an explanation of the oath of citizenship followed.

     Then came a roll call of the 51 countries represented -- it was 71 countries in the afternoon -- with the applicants rising to stand in preparation for the oath.

      "So many countries," Gillian said, noting that India and Japan had the largest delegation and were met with loud cheers. When South Africa was called, "my three family members applauded (softly).

      One country was Estonia. "I didn't know that it was a real country," Gillian said, smiling. "I thought it was a make-believe land from The Princess Bride."

Gillian with daughters Katrina (left)
 and Lauren (right) and grandson Grayson

     She had been working in the U.S. on
a green card, but it was due to be renewed in 2025, and because the cost was the same as becoming a citizen, she felt it was time to make the move that her younger daughter Katrina previously had made.

      Gillian submitted her citizenship
papers in March, took the required test in July, and passed easily. (She had studied her 100 flashcards diligently and never missed an answer on "pop" tests in the front lobby.

      The Boonzaier family left South Africa in 2004 when job opportunities became scarce as the end of apartheid changed society there. Gillian had accompanied her then-husband on his business trips to the U.S., so moving here appealed to her because "it's the land of milk and honey."

      The family's three school-age kids settled in the Miami area, where jobs in the airline and travel industries were available. Oldest daughter Lauren eventually moved to Fort Worth and when she was pregnant eight years ago, Gillian came to be with her.

     "I told her I would stay if I could find a job," Gillian recalled. She applied for a child-care position that was advertised by First Presbyterian Church, then saw the nearby front entry at Trinity Terrace.

     "I walked across the street," she said, "and went to human resources, applied for the front-desk position ... and I got the job."

      She's been at Trinity Terrace ever since; her title is "lead concierge," meaning her work space is across from the front door. She is the smiling greeter, front-lobby traffic director and organizer -- it is often a busy place -- and she finds answers to questions and requests. She is the doer of good deeds.

      And now, a proud American citizen, with the citizenship paper and photos for proof.

      Trinity Terrace staff and residents honored her the next day with flowers, balloons, and a cake, and -- yes --- she registered to vote.

      "It was all so nice," she said. "I love it so much." 

      

              

       

       

    

One of my favorite columns

       Sometimes a writer walks into a wonderful column or story subject. And that's what happened here.

       I was reminded of this column written a little more than 39 years ago. Found it on the old Shreveport Journal files on newspapers.com, and it was sentimental to read it again.

       This was an award-winning piece in the annual Louisiana Sports Writers Association contest; in this case, the 1985 awards presented in July 1986.

       It was not a first-place award; it finished second in its category. Fine. Contest judging always is subjective, so we accepted -- with gratitude -- whatever the result.

       Winning awards is not why we chose the sportswriting/newspaper business, but they were a reminder that on a particular story, column or project, you did a good enough job to impress someone. 

       Doing the job well day after day -- and, well, helping sell newspapers -- was my personal aim. Didn't always succeed, sometimes in fact failed miserably, and had to move on. 

       Worked with many better writers and editors, some of them repetitive award winners. But awards did come this way occasionally, and every now and then, there is a reminder of the work involved. And it's fun to think back on that.

      This particular column came from a night when I covered a Texas League baseball game at SPAR Stadium, the (very) old home of the Shreveport Captains. It happened to be the Fourth of July, 1985.

       Sat down with an elderly man, a familiar season-ticket holder as he was making his return to the ballpark for the first time that season, and the first time as a widower. 

       Wasn't particularly looking to write a story or column, but simply to say hello to the gentleman, Mr. Eugene Hemard, who was 87. The story/column found us.

       Turned out to be a sweet piece, or maybe a bit bittersweet because Ms. Mamie wasn't there.

       Read it, and I hope you appreciate it. (And, yes, the photo is from when I was 38 years old. Don't look much like that anymore.)