The Holocaust museum in Amsterdam (at long last)

      

      On Sunday, the new Netherlands National Holocaust Museum will be dedicated in Amsterdam.

      (On the front of the building the sign says Nationaal Holocaust Museum ... that's the Dutch spelling of national).

       Anyway -- to use a favorite (borrowed) expression: What took them so long?

       It has been 82-plus years since the abuse, degradation and eventual deportation/deaths of Dutch Jews at the Nazi concentration camps began.

       There are several buildings and memorials to honor Holocaust prisoners and victims in Amsterdam; we have visited them on our three trips back to the old country, and we've written about them.

        But never has there been an actual Holocaust museum -- like many around the world, including those in Washington, D.C. and Dallas, for example -- in the Netherlands.

        Until now, thank goodness.

        We thank a friend at Trinity Terrace -- our seniors residency in Fort Worth -- for alerting us to The New York Times story about the museum (see link at the bottom of this blog). It was news to us. 

        If you know and understand our family's Holocaust history, you know that we think it is important.

        And it is important enough in Holland that today the Dutch king, Willem-Alexander, will attend the museum ceremony.

        (He will do so alongside the president of Israel, and with today's fragile Middle East situation, some 200 mosques -- Palestinian supporters -- and even a protesting Jewish organization or two suggested/demanded that Willem-Alexander not attend. His reply: I will be there.)

        Not coincidentally, we -- Beatrice and I -- were in Amsterdam the day (April 30, 2013) that Willem-Alexander became the first king of the Netherlands in more than 100 years.

       That was just a few days after we visited -- or re-visited -- four sites in the Jewish Quarter in Amsterdam: the Hollandsche Schouwburg,  the Joods Historisch Museum, the Portuguese Synagogue, and the Auschwitz memorial. 

    Here is a link to the blog piece I wrote then: https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-place-for-memories-and-tears.html

     Plenty of Holocaust history at those places, and we appreciated the sights.

     The new museum will tell -- as an Associated Press story this week noted -- the story "in video footage, photos, scale models and mementos, of Dutch victims of the Holocaust."

      As you also might know, my mother (Rose Van Thyn) spoke and wrote about her and our family's Holocaust experiences for many years. Will some of her material (photos, videos, articles, letters) be included in this Holocaust museum?

     Answer: We have no idea. Certainly no indication of that.

      My sister -- Elsa Van Thyn -- said in a note: "Guess the museum will feature Mama's statements about how the Dutch weren't the best for the Jews." 

      Don't know.

      But what we do know is that -- whether our family, especially those who lost their lives in the World War II years -- is directly acknowledged at the museum or not, the opening of this facility is a great thing.

       We cannot forget our people.

       And we are grateful for those who remember, and -- with this museum -- honor their memory.

---

      Here are links to information about the museum:

       -- Nationaal Holocaustmuseum  Museum/nl\ 

       -- https://www.yahoo.com/news/holocaust-museum-amsterdam-aims-tell-063005778.html?fr=sycsrp_catchall

     -- https://apnews.com/article/netherlands-holocaust-museum-antisemitism-4b7f1e725bb014283c57381425001aee

   -- With a New Holocaust Museum, the Netherlands Faces Its Past 

   

And now he's 50 (oh, my!)

     

      When our son turned 40 a decade ago, I wrote a blog titled, "When your kid is 40, where are you?"

      Let's catch up and change that 40 to 50. Yes, Jason Shawn Key is 50. Don't think he's too concerned about this milestone. 

      Just as 10 years ago, he stays busy with work and being a father -- and chauffeur to two boys (ages 15 and 13) who have lots to do and places to go.

       Reading back over the blog of 2014, we had to laugh at the recall of the Facebook message his sister -- five years younger -- posted then: "Hope you have a wonderful day and a long, slow, enjoyable slide down that hill."

      And then there was this:

      Gary West -- the horse-racing writer/expert and writer extraordinaire, period, and our old buddy from Shreveport Journal and Fort Worth Star-Telegram sports days -- sent this note on Jason's birthday:

       "This morning when I got up, I felt a little stiffness and soreness. When I wheeled out of bed and placed my feet on the floor, my knees sounded like two bowls of breakfast cereal. For no good reason, I was tired. In other words, I felt old. And now you tell me this:

       "J-Man is 40.

       "I'm going back to bed."

       Make that 50, and how are you feeling now, Mr. West? 

---

        First met him when he was almost 3, and I was single and enchanted with his mother. Didn't know that I wanted to get married, but when she brought him to my apartment for our first meeting, he was the most beautiful, cutest little boy I'd ever seen. His hair was blond, and perfect.

       Marriage, and being a daddy, soon didn't seem so daunting.

       He was still in a diaper some and still couldn't pronounce all his words -- I was "Nito" for a while and then "Daddy Nito" -- but his animal sounds were a hoot -- "cad-doo" (rooster) and "dobble-dobble" (turkey) -- and he wasn't fussy. And that dimple on his left cheek stood out, and still does.  

       Soon he was making trips to the newspaper with me and to

Centenary's Gold Dome and to SPAR Stadium for baseball, and after a while, he believed that Daddy owned those places.

       At 6, not long after he snuck his toy miniature trucks in his pants to school (and got them taken away, never to be retrieved), he began playing soccer. His Opa Louie was pleased by that, and -- well -- a referee for some of his games.

     In Hawaii -- where we moved in 1980-81 -- he was labeled "the franchise" by his  coach. He always could run fast, as fast as anyone on his teams, and he was solidly built and unafraid of contact. So soccer became a habit, and he played for 11 years -- always one of the best players on his team, but not always the star.

      He loved it, and Beatrice and I loved watching him. And we traveled a lot of places to do that.

       But he had a lot of interests other than sports. When it came time to stop playing on soccer teams, he began preparing for college. We were thrilled when, as we were living in northeast Florida, he was accepted at LSU. Maybe his "Daddy Nito" -- who first took him to LSU football games when he was 8 -- was an influence.

       He spent five years at LSU, loved it, and did earn a degree in business there. His mother was especially proud of his efforts; she had gotten over her everyday tears during his senior year in high school (Orange Park, Florida) when she thought of her little boy moving far away.

         But Mom and Jay were always close, and like her, he is a 

 people pleaser. He was from the time he was young, and still is. He is a helper, a  do-er. A dutiful son, and older brother, and friend. 

      More than anything these days, he is a father. His job -- vice-president of a construction plumbing supply company -- is important to him, but those boys are his world. 

        Jacob, the curly-haired one, is 15; Kaden, the growing younger one, is 13, and a budding soccer player whose speed is reminiscent of the young Jason. They are the middle two of our four grandchildren.

         They live about 45 miles from us, and come to Fort Worth to visit with us, and it's always great to see them. And Jason -- for years an avid foodie -- often brings a meal he has prepared.

         So now he's 50 -- and we are deep in our 70s. Wow. He is our J-Man, and he always will be. A beautiful little boy, a grown-up middle-aged man. We are pretty proud of him.