Everyone has a story ...

      Re-posting the blog on Amy Geneux Keck brought some riveting -- and surprising -- responses.
      Oh, gosh, we often don't know what our friends have faced in their lives.
      We revisited the blog piece on Amy -- the tragic, heartbreaking story that we wrote in 2015 because (1) it was the 10-year anniversary, almost to the day and (2) many of our readership -- including new friends at Trinity Terrace, our seniors residency -- had never seen it.
      The intent of our blog -- from the start in 2012 -- certainly has not been to focus on negativity or painful episodes. But we do try to deal in reality. Never been a fiction or whimsical writer.
      It is, however, often not a fun venture. For example, the stories of our family's tragedies in the World War II years needed to be done, never to be forgotten.
       So it was with the story of Amy and the connection to my parents and our then-young family. It was tough writing, and reading.
       Here is the first of the responses from friends that, frankly, shook us. So similar to Amy's ordeal ...
        "My first wife died of an aneurysm 10 days before her due date. In the effort to save her, our daughter was deprived of oxygen so she did not survive the ordeal. It happens more than people realize."
      (Pause for reflection here ...)
      Second response: "Ah, yes, why do bad things happen to good people? It comes to us all, sooner or later. Our biggest tragedy was the suicide of our daughter at age 18 in 1990.
      "Evidently she inherited the genes for extremely bad depression that current treatment were ineffective for. [We] were extremely fortunate in that we recognized that it was no one's fault and probably inevitable.
     "So instead of saying WHY for the next umteen years, we were blessed to realize that we just needed to accept the fact that there was no answer and we just needed to keep moving forward.
     "We were also blessed to be surrounded by family and friends that loved her and loved us. She was brilliant, caring and beautiful and loved God. Unfortunately when the psychosis was present, she was unable to remember all the love the world had for her. 
    "We are glad that we have the Resurrection to look forward to when we shall all be reunited, with no more tears."
     (Deep breath before we go on ...)
     Third response: A female friend told us that many years ago she lost her oldest daughter at age 35 -- mother of a 20-month old. Breast cancer took her. 
     "Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen," my friend said.
     And we always think of our great Woodlawn High star athlete Trey Prather, who at age 20 died in action in Vietnam. Two years later, his mother -- deep in grief, unable to cope -- was gone, too.
      It was a tragedy so many of us from Woodlawn (and later LSU, where Trey played some -- but not enough -- quarterback) never forgot.
      We do go on, just as Amy's family and the others we've heard from here have. But it's never the same.
---

    We are going on, too, a month after Beatrice left us. The support, the caring so many have shown our family has been extremely comforting. We know she was loved, and our family also is.

        There are moments now that bring tears -- a Willie Nelson video on YouTube singing All The Things You Are ... because Bea loved Willie.
        Today it was Neil deGrasse Tyson's presence in a segment on CBS Sunday  Morning because Neil -- famed astrophysicist and TV personality -- was one of Bea's favorites. (So were Dr. Michio Kaku,  physicist/author/TV star, and the late Dr. Jane Goodall.)
        Bea introduced them all to me. None had any connection to sports. But I paid attention. 
        One of the most gratifying tributes to Bea has been two instances of friends donating to "Trees for Israel," in which a tree will be planted in that land in her honor. (We've been told a third tree also has been donated.)
        Honestly, we'd never heard of that organization. My bad. But these are such nice gestures, among the many we've received.
         Bea would have liked them. 
         So hopefully that's a positive way to end this blog piece, which started on a sad note. We much prefer the good news.

 

       

 

So long ago, but still so sweet

       The dates January 7 and January 12 are special to our family, and will be for as long as we're here. 

     Those dates, in 1956, were monumental for us.

     January 7, a Saturday, we were on the boat sailing into New York City -- immigrants to the United States.

     January 12, a Thursday, the train pulled into Union Station in Shreveport, Louisiana, at 7 a.m. The sun was just coming up, and for us, the Van Thyn family of four, it really was a new day.

     New day, new country, new life. Forever grateful.

     It was, as I recall, a bright day. It was clear, the high was 58; the low the night before and that night was right at freezing (32). (Guarantee you it was colder in Amsterdam, and probably snowy.)

      At 8 years old, I don't recall being intimidated or terrified, but "unsettled" might best describe it. Same for Dad and Mom, and little Elsa (who was 4). Just trying to figure out what was going on and how to adapt, what to do next.

    For us, it was totally different. Shreveport was different. It wasn't Amsterdam, that's for sure.

      The only Dutch we could speak was at our house; no one else could understand us. We had to learn to speak and understand English; that was a challenge. It took a while, and for Mom and Dad,  months of lessons helped. Don't know how Elsa did it so easily -- she wasn't in school yet, like I was --  but she did ... and even now she remembers more Dutch than I do.

      Now we had a President (Dwight D. Eisenhower) instead of a Queen (Juliana). "Ike" would be re-elected later that year, again beating Democratic nominee Adlai Stevenson, just as in 1952. 

      We had a Congress, not a Parliament. We had a Louisiana governor (Robert Kennon, although five days later Earl K. Long -- the crazy man -- would be elected to his second full term, beating New Orleans mayor Chep Morrison.)

      Elvis, with his rock 'n roll and his hips and his sideburns, was the big show in entertainment and on The Ed Sullivan Show. 

      It was Elvis' biggest year to date -- he was everywhere -- and that March he would end his useful and popular association with the Louisiana Hayride in Shreveport. 

      But seeing him on television? Not us.

     TV? A phone? We never had those in The Netherlands. 

    But Elsa remembers that Mom and Dad brought about $200 with them -- converted from guilders -- and one of the first U.S. purchases was a television (black-and-white, of course; a color TV was a decade away for us). They thought the TV might help us learn English more quickly, and maybe that is how Elsa learned it.

     Don't think we had a phone until we moved to Sunset Acres on July 4, 1957. It was a party line at first -- that wasn't fun -- and the number was 64122 (soon to be ME1-4122, ME for Melrose, if I remember correctly). 

     Instead of streetcars, trams -- Dad had been a tram conductor in Amsterdam all my life (1947-55) -- we now traveled by bus and the memorable trolleys.

      No car for a few months; Dad had a tough time getting a driver's license in Holland (the tests were difficult; the people giving them very strict), and it would be a few months before he got a license -- and a (company) car -- in Shreveport.

     James C. Gardner, at age 31, was the youngest mayor in Shreveport history. His four-year term (1954-58) interrupted the two long stays (1946-70) of Clyde E. Fant in that job.

     Shreveport, like all the South, was so segregated, two separate worlds that rarely mixed. That was very different for the Van Thyns; I don't remember race being any kind of consideration in The Netherlands. Maybe I was too young to notice. 

    Instead of going to the outdoor market, to which we walked with Mom a few blocks from our tiny, cold, two-story house just about every day in Amsterdam, we now walked a few blocks in Shreveport to a grocery store (A&P). The shelves and bins were full of items we'd never seen, and many of our favorite Dutch items were only a memory.

     I knew nothing about American sports (yeah, just refrain from any smart remarks here). I only knew voetbal, Dutch soccer. And I loved it.

     Not until 1954 did soccer become a professional sport in Holland; until then, teams were semipro or amateur.

      Didn't take long to learn that U.S. sports were serious business. But it took me a few months to find my favorite team ... and the New York Yankees weren't even the defending World Series champions then.

     For the only time in history, the Brooklyn Dodgers were, having beaten the Yankees in the 1955 World Series -- the only time that happened in the seven Yankees-Brooklyn Dodgers World Series matchups. By that October (1956), the result was more acceptable; it was the first of 11 times I've experienced the Yankees winning the Series (plus eight times they lost it).

    Which brings another memory. Although Mom, Dad and I were not far along in reading or speaking English, I know we already were subscribing to the afternoon newspaper (Shreveport Journal) because I distinctly remember coming home from school and seeing the result of the (Monday) October 8 World Series game -- Game 5 -- that same day. The headline said Yankees pitcher Don Larsen had pitched the first perfect game in Series history. Perfect game? What was that? 

      (Games in those days began at noon, Eastern time; so 11 a.m. Shreveport time. This game took 2 hours, 6 minutes, so it ended at 1:06 p.m., plenty of time for the Journal to get the whole story into its city/home edition.)

     In American sports, the Cleveland Browns were the reigning NFL champions, the powerhouse franchise -- led by QB Otto Graham and coach Paul Brown -- that had played in seven consecutive NFL title games, every year since they had joined the league.

      Oklahoma was king of college football, the Bud Wilkinson-coached dynasty in the middle of its record 47-game winning streak.

      San Francisco -- the Dons -- was the NCAA basketball champions, about to win its  second consecutive title led by a shot-blocking big guy, Bill Russell, and defensive expert guard K.C. Jones.

       The Boston Celtics had never won an NBA championship (but they soon would win 11 with Russell at center). The reigning NBA champs were the Syracuse Nationals; the Philadelphia Warriors won in 1956.

       The NHL champions were the Detroit Red Wings. But in 1956, the dynastic Montreal Canadiens would rule again.

        The big names in golf were Sam Snead, Ben Hogan (of Fort Worth), and Byron Nelson (who was about to retire). But Hogan's star was beginning to fade; in 1955, he had been runner-up in the Masters (to Dr. Cary Middlecoff) and the U.S. Open (in a playoff loss to little-heralded Jack Fleck in one of golf's greatest upsets). 

      Arnold Palmer was the 1954 U.S. Amateur champion who had turned pro and, in 1955, played in his first Masters (finished 10th), made the U.S. Open cut for the first time and finished 21st. Jack Nicklaus was about to turn 16, a chubby kid in Ohio with a lot of golfing promise.

      And, back to baseball ... the Shreveport Sports were the reigning Texas League champions. Knowing their manager, Mel McGaha, and their ballpark were in my future. 

     I had never heard of any of them. But I knew about  Abe Lenstra, Faas Wilkes, Wim Van Est, Kees Broekman, Jan Klaasens and Coen Dillen.

      Sunset Acres was a fairly new neighborhood in southwest Shreveport; the elementary school was in its second year. My future best friend, Casey Baker, and my future classmates, were in the third grade, and -- beginning on the afternoon of January 12 -- so was I, at Line Avenue Elementary across town. Good memories there, too.

     (For my Woodlawn connections: In January 1956, Lee Hedges was an assistant coach at Fair Park High. Jack Rowan, eight days before we arrived, had resigned as head coach at Byrd High. Three months later, Hedges -- at age 26 -- was named the Byrd head coach, a job for which he had not applied. Meanwhile, A.L. Williams was preparing for his senior season as a Louisiana Tech halfback, and Jerry Adams also was a senior at Tech, his college time interrupted by service time, his football career limited by a very damaged knee. But those young men -- Hedges, Williams, Adams -- learned a lot about football and leading/teaching young people and in a few years, many Woodlawn Knights would benefit greatly.)

     For us, Sunset Acres -- and owning a home -- was not even a thought. Could not have imagined Oak Terrace Junior High (where my path to keeping stats for athletic teams and newspapering began), "Camelot" at Woodlawn, going to college (Louisiana Tech), a journalism degree, a start at The Shreveport Times, the Journal and a career full of other newspapers.

     Shreveport was home for me for 30 years -- Sunset Acres for a glorious 10-year period -- and more than 50 years for Mom and Dad, including 40-plus in the house in South Broadmoor.

     For me, there was Beatrice and Jason, then Rachel, then in-law kids and four spectactular grandchildren, a helluva lot of mistakes, misdeeds and moves, too many great times to count but blessed to remember. Fort Worth became the greatest place in the world to live, and specifically, Trinity Terrace.

     It all began January 12, 1956. It was a bright day, and it was clear. But clearly we couldn't look too far ahead.  

---

Two related blog pieces (from 2012):

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5125402567351329247/1373025344885949427

https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5125402567351329247/8935378780711618213

     

Two photos and missing pieces from Belgium

    A trip back in time, and another visit with Dad.

    The name of the camp is Les Mazures. Remember that. It is the key to this story.

    Look at these two photos. That's Dad -- Louis Van Thyn -- at ages 16 (almost 17) and 26 1/2. 

    This is the first time you have seen them. Because when we received them last week, it was the first time we had seen them.

     It is, as you might imagine, a great find for us, a bit emotional. 

     With the photos came two dossiers, forms he had to fill to establish -- and re-establish -- residency in Belgium. 

     The name on those forms is Levi Van Thijn -- his original first name (Louis, or Louie, was a nickname he always was called); he had it legally changed once we were in the United

States. The last name is the Dutch spelling (the y was written ij).

      The first photo: May 1936 when he first arrived in Antwerp, Belgium, having left home in Amsterdam with his parents' permission, and his intention is learning the diamond cutting trade. 

      You can see how young -- innocent? -- he looks, wearing the glasses he wore as a kid (and never again until he was in his mid-50s) ... and, for some reason, glancing sideways.      

     The second photo: November 1945, a sharp-looking, much more seasoned and mature young man, a Holocaust survivor,  a prisoner of the Germans/Nazis for nearly 2 1/2 years, much of that in concentration camps. Also a widower; his first wife, Estella, one of the six million Jews who died. He was unsure if she like him had been sent to Auschwitz.

      He's back in Antwerp, at last, looking for a new life.

---

     In his Holocaust interview, the one we used for much of the Survivors: 62511, 70726 book, Dad talked about where he went after the Nazis "arrested" him (and so many others) in the fall of 1942.

      Page 45 ... First stop: a work camp in Northern France.

      "We spent around three months there. ... It was by the town of Charleville, in the French Ardennes (the dense forest region) by the Belgium border," he told the interviewer.

      Asked for the camp's name, he replied, "I don't think it had a name. ... I want to get there one day and see, but there is nothing there that you can see it was a camp." (He never made that visit.)

---

       Of course the camp had a name. It is my fault that I did not research more, or ask more questions, to fill in the details.

       But we found out the name last week: Les Mazures.   

       The names, Dad's photos and the dossiers were sent to us by Reinier Heinsman, who introduced himself to us last week as a volunteer for the Kazerne Dossin Museum in Belgium, a place I wrote about in 2014, located in Mechelen, a city halfway between Antwerp and Brussels.

      It is on the site of the transition camp where Dad was sent after his stay at Les Mazures and from where he was sent by train to Auschwitz.

      Reinier asked my Kazerne Dossin contact, Dorien Styven, for my e-mail, and so Reinier asked for information on my Dad's lifelong great friend, Joseph "Joopie" Scholte, and his family -- particularly photos of Joopie's older brother, Jonas, and Joopie's 2-year-old daughter Helene. 

      He also told me -- important connection -- that the Scholte boys and Dad had been at the "concentration camp of Les Mazures in northern France."

     To be honest, that was news to me ... until I checked my blog and book (and found that Dad had not recalled the name).

     So I confirmed with Reinier that his facts were correct.

     Yael Reicher, who lives in Belgium and is a good friend of Reinier's, is president of the Memorial of the Concentration Camp of Les Mazures.               

     "She knows a lot about the camp and about all the prisoners," Reinier wrote. "She is very dedicated to preserving the memory of the camp and of all the people who were interned there, including her father." (And mine.)

      Yael, too, confirmed this: "Both Louis and Jonas were indeed interned at the Judenlager [Jewish camp] of Les Mazures."

      Much of the information that Yael sent and is in the dossiers is included in chapter 29 (pages 106-109) of the Survivors book.

https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-fate-of-family-in-belgium.html 

      That describes the Les Mazures work camp and its purpose, and we also received from Kazerne Dossin several years ago what information they had on Dad, Joopie and Jonas Scholte, and on Estella.

      Can tell you that Dad, although he did not recall the camp name, is spot-on about the location and the work done there.

       And typically for him, because he for the most part always kept his good nature and positive outlook despite all that happened to him, recalled that the Les Mazures experience wasn't that harsh, not like what was ahead.

---

     Didn't think we had a photo of Jonas until my sister Elsa pointed out that he was in the wedding photo of Joopie and his first wife that we've had for years (and is in the book).

      Indeed, Jonas is up front on the left, and Dad is in the back left. So we sent that photo to the people in Belgium, along with Dad's wedding photo with Estella.

     We told Reinier and Yael -- who were not sure of the connection -- that the Scholtes' mother Leentje was a sister of Dad's mother, our grandmother Sara.

     The dossier also shows a wedding date for Dad and Estella -- September 16, 1941. We knew the month and year, but not the date.

     About the group known as the Association in Memory of the Judenlager of Les Mazures: A Belgian historian, Jean-Emile Andreux, did the research on the camp, published his work and created a memorial with the names of the 288 men deported from Antwerp to Les Mazures.

     A monument was dedicated in 2005 on the site where the camp used to be. There is nothing left, except the foundations of the barracks and debris in the surrounding woods.

      Every year there are two commemorations: (1) in July, the national French ceremony for victims of the Shoah (Holocaust); (2) on October 23, the date of the deportation to Auschwitz.

      At the site, there are portraits of all but a dozen of the men deported, Dad included. And now Jonas' photo will be there, too.

     The site itself is a soccer field today. I assure you: Dad would have loved that.

     When and if I redo, or update, the Survivors book -- there are now nine Van Thyn great grandchildren -- it will be good to have information that corrects what was missing before.

     We are always grateful to learn more. Thanks.

   

A link to Dad (and the Holocaust) in 1942

     

    Look at these two photos -- from 1942 -- and know that they are special to us, and that, finally, we have copies.
     These two people are my father, Louis Van Thyn -- listed as Levie Van Thijn here -- and his first wife, Estella Halverstad. The photos came to us from Belgium, sent to us on Sunday through Facebook.
     Dad, pictured here, was 23; Stella was 21.
     Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, so the timing is perfect because these are Holocaust-related.
     They are on display and part of the large database from the Kazerne Dossin -- the national Holocaust memorial museum of Belgium. 
     (It is like the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., the World Holocaust Remembrance  Museum -- Yad Vashem -- in Jerusalem, Israel, and the Dutch National Holocaust Museum in our original hometown, Amsterdam.)
     The Belgian museum is located in Mechelen -- a city between Antwerp and Brussels, the two largest cities in Belgium -- and that is significant, and symbolic.
      Mechelen is where, mostly in 1942-43, Jewish and Romani (gypsy) "prisoners" of the Nazis were held and then sent on transport trains to the concentration camps. Read on for the numbers.
     We are grateful to our cousin, Heleen (Kopuit)  Borgenicht, and her husband, Jacky, for making the 17-mile (27-kilometer) trip from their residence in Antwerp to the museum and providing us with the photos for our records and this piece.
     As Heleen noted, the museum has four floors -- each floor with 160 columns and 40 rows of photos -- of the (mostly) Jewish "prisoners." Heleen wrote "the walls were covered with photos." 
     So, without having the specific location, she and Jacky had to search and search to locate my father's wall photo. 
     Which they did, and here is Heleen (right) pointing to Dad's photo, and a closeup look (left) at the then young Louis.
     It is, as you might imagine, emotional for us to see him as he looked when he was about to head to Auschwitz.
      All the people in the photos on the wall went to the concentration camps -- and for the great majority went to their deaths.
       The Kazerne Dossin website says 25,274 Jews and 354 Romani (gypsies) were transported from Mechelen and that two-thirds were killed upon arrival at the camps.
      Only 1,395 of those listed survived. That word "overlevende" stamped on Dad's photo means survivor.
      Stella did not survive (the word "disparu" on her photo and so many others means disappeared, or death).

Dad (fourth row down, middle)

      Note on Dad's database page: his date of birth (6-7-1919; here in the U.S., it would be 7-6-1919); his place of birth (Amsterdam); his geslacht/gender (man), his spouse's name (the last name is incorrectly spelled, a z instead of s); his beroep/occupation; his departure date from Mechelen (24-10-1942); transport (XV); transport number (180); the number (70726) the Nazis tattooed on his left forearm; and, finally,  the category overlevende ... the answer is "ja," YES.
       On another database page are listed his "arrest" date (18 Jul 1942); his arrival date at Auschwitz (26 Oct 1942); his father's name (Natan Van Thijn -- it should be Nathan); his mother's name (Sarah Van Beer -- it should be Van Beem).
      Meticulous as the Nazis were, they did mess up some record-keeping ... as well as millions and millions of lives.
     And they must have been proud, otherwise why not destroy all those records when it was obvious the war was coming to an end and they were not going to rule the world? 
---  
     In 1942, Dad was living in Antwerp, with hopes of learning the diamond-cutting trade (thus the "diamondslijper" listing for his occupation). Actually, that did not happen.
     He was already a Dutch Army veteran and, after Nazi occupation of The Netherlands, a released POW.  He had moved to Antwerp from Amsterdam at age 16, living with an aunt and uncle, and doing odd jobs before there was a place for him as a diamond-cutting apprentice.
       After the Nazis released Dad and other Dutch soldiers in late 1940, he went back to Antwerp and eventually married Estella, and they were living with her parents when the Germans/Nazis began their full-scale "arrests" of most Jewish people in western Europe.
     Estella's parents' photos, too, certainly are in the Kazerne Dossin museum.
---

     Heleen also did a database search for her maiden name -- and found photos and information on two women: Trijntje Kopuit and Rosette Rachel Kopuit.
    And, yes, they are part of her family ... and ours. Both were born in Amsterdam.
    Trijntje was a great niece of my mother's grandfather Maurits. Rosette Rachel was a cousin of the brother-sister who were my grandmother and Heleen's grandfather.
     Trijntje, born in 1881 (age 60 when she was deported), is  listed as an employee' de maison -- domestic servant.
     Rosette Rachel, born in 1880 (63 at deportation), is listed as a professor. Neither survived the Holocaust.
     The name Rosette Rachel is significant to us, a link to family names. Rozette (with a z) was my mother's given name (Rose for short). Rachel is our daughter (named for Mom's mom, so our Rachel's great grandmother).
     Mom, as many know, also was a Holocaust survivor. Having been picked up by the Nazis in Amsterdam, like most of her family and Dad's family, her transit camp was in Holland (Westerbork). From there they went on the infamous cattle-car trains for the trip to Auschwitz.   
---
     At Mechelen, the prisoners were held in Belgian Army infantry barracks. A commemorative plaque was first placed there on May 30, 1948, and beginning in 1956, an annual ceremony has been held to commemorate the Holocaust victims who were housed there.
     After the war, the barracks were converted to a school and had other uses before they became dilapidated, and torn down. But several groups pushed for a Holocaust museum to be built, right next to the barracks' area.
     The Mechelen memorial museum first opened November 11, 1995. A few years later there was need for a larger, updated facility, which opened November 26, 2012.
     Officially, it is the Memorial Museum and Documentation Centre on Holocaust and Human Rights.
     Through cousin Heleen, we first heard about the newest museum before it opened, and the Kazerne Dossin -- connecting me to Dad -- sent an invitation to attend the opening. 
     That did not develop, but through correspondence, we learned of the existence of this database and these photos.
     We had no clue of what we might be receiving, no preview, and to be honest, the museum was asking much more of a payment than we were willing to make.
     Heleen also had been unable to attend the museum opening, but promised that some day she would visit the museum and try to find Dad and Estella's photos. 
     She has come through and we have it to tie into today's Remembrance Day.
     It is the 75th anniversary of January 27, 1945, when the Auschwitz camp was liberated by Allied forces. My mother and father -- and my sister Elsa's -- were free (but never free of the memories) and a few months later they would meet in Amsterdam, starting new lives.
     We remember the Holocaust every day. We will never forget.

Louis Van Thyn -- 100 years ago today

   Louis Van Thyn -- Dad -- was born 100 years ago today. He lived 89 years, one month, three weeks, a full life of happy times, much adventure, great tragedy, survival, a wonderful success story. He was most proud of his family, and provided well for them, and he would be so pleased today to see what has become of his two children, five grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren (with one more to come soon). He was an in-the-moment person who could -- and would -- talk to anyone; he was a mostly upbeat guy who could tell stories and kept a positive view of the world. We miss him, and we'll always remember.

Family matters: about the name Van Thyn

    Leo Van Thyn, a native Dutchman who lives in Canada, is our family historian -- genealogy is one of his interests -- and it is through him that we found much of the Van Thyn origin.
    When he first contacted us in the mid-1990s, as I recall through my parents and my sister Elsa, we found another cousin. 
     Not quite sure of the connection, but it is only a few generations back. For sure, Leo and I have much in common, such as:
     -- Born in Amsterdam, to parents who had survived the Holocaust.
     -- His father's name was Abraham; my mother's father's name was Abraham.
     -- Came to North America with our parents and one younger sister in the mid-1950s, he to the Toronto area, us to Shreveport; he was almost 11; I was 8 1/2.
     -- Within a half year of each other in 1976-77, we each married a woman with a child from a previous marriage (their Lisa, our Jason were born in 1974). Then we happily added to our families.
     -- Remarkably, we each have a daughter originally named Rachel Van Thyn. Ours is two years older.
     -- We had long careers in jobs we loved -- Leo in teaching, me in a less-important endeavor (sportswriting).
     -- We are sports fans. Leo roots mostly for Toronto teams (Blue Jays, the long-suffering Maple Leafs, and the  Argonauts of the Canadian Football League). He first was a New York Yankees fan, in the days of Mantle (his favorite all-time player), Maris, Yogi, Whitey, Richardson, Kubek "and the boys," and then 20 years later when the Blue Jays began playing, "I changed allegiance."
     That was a mistake, of course, although he is forgiven a bit when he writes, "I still have a soft spot for the Yankees, which, by the way, is not a popular stance around here." 
     -- We like writing, and are prolific at it. 
     Eventually I am going to turn this blog piece over to Leo, to write about his family's story and about our last name.
     When I asked him for a brief summary of his life for this blog, he answered with a l-o-n-g, eight-paragraph "summary." Like I said prolific.
     He started with this: "I seriously doubt most of your readers care about some guy with the same name as you who lives in that vast country north of the U.S. [and] who cheers for foreign teams."

     Hey, we care. Now, here is where we are a bit different:

Carol and Leo Van Thyn

     -- He is much older (eight months-plus older) and that's easy to see. He might have less hair, but more above his upper lip. 
     -- He and Carol have three children, to our two. They have three grandchildren, to our four (theirs are the same age range as our oldest three). Our family likely won't grow; theirs might.       
     -- Their grandchildren live within 15 minutes, so they see a lot of them. One set of ours is an hour-and-a-half away; the other set is two good days' driving away.
     -- They are much more religious than we are.
     Leo is "actively involved in the ritual aspects of our synagogue" (a half-mile from their house), "one of two coordinators of all things High Holy Days, which takes 5-6 months." 
     Carol has worked at the synagogue as administrative secretary since the early 1990s, so their responsibilities often overlap. Their Rachel, now married, is a rabbi in Brooklyn.
---
     Leo was a school teacher for 30 years in west Toronto (they live in Mississauga, a sizable suburb). He taught all grades, from kindergarten to grade 9, specifically mathematics, English, and history in the older grades. In 1998, he retired as a teacher and then worked at a GM dealership until 2009. 
     He enjoys going with his children to see Toronto's sports teams play occasionally, says that rooting for the Maple Leafs (no Stanley Cup champions since 1967, rarely a contender) qualifies "for psychological evaluation."
     His life these days: "I go to the gym three times a week, do synagogue stuff, a little genealogy, and spend as much time as possible with my grandchildren. The highlight of my week is when they visit for Shabbat on Friday afternoon. The religious holidays often become an excuse to be with them."

---

     Leo, on his family's history:
     "My parents, may they rest in peace, were Abraham van Thijn and Clara Vos. They were married in September 1941 and were almost immediately deported to concentration camps, ending up in Auschwitz. They spent 3 1/2 years in captivity. 
     "After being freed in 1945, they had to begin again. Ninety percent of our family had been murdered. I know all of their names. [His parents] were afraid, as were many others, that the Soviets would gobble up all of Europe and that the same nightmare would begin again. 
     "In the early 1950s they applied to emigrate to the U.S. However, to go to the U.S., you had to be sponsored by someone. My mom's first cousin, living in the Cleveland area, working as an appliance salesman, was deemed to have insufficient income to sponsor two adults and two children.
     "They had friends in Toronto, Canada. Personal sponsorship was not required. The Jewish Immigration and Aid Services supported us and we arrived in Toronto on September 25, 1957. At the time I was almost 11 and my sister Frances (Frouke) was 6. In 1958 my sister Kay was born."
---
     A little more than a week ago, Leo sent this note -- about our name -- to members of the Van Thyn family:
     "On September 25 sister Frances and I marked 60 years living in the Toronto area.  It made me think of lots of things but especially our last name.  As most of you have experienced and are experiencing, the name causes much confusion. 
     "Even in this day of computerized everything there will be times when at an office or store, someone can’t find me in their system.  We might be under V but it may be entered as VAN THYN or VANTHYN.  Sometimes I am under T because they think VAN is another first name of mine rather than part of my last name.  It is amazing how often I receive things addressed to Mr. THYN.
     "My passport is VAN THYN. My driver's license is VANTHN. My health card used to be VAN-THYN and it took a while to get through the bureaucracy to change it. There are other examples.
     "My parents realized this more than 50 years ago and simply changed their last name to Vanthyn. As such sister Kay [and her family] don't have to deal with this. I wanted the name to remain as close to the original as possible and didn't go along with the change. 
     "If we were living in The Netherlands our name would be "van Thijn" rather than what we use in North America. In Dutch VAN is neither a first name nor a last name. In the Dutch white pages, we would be listed under T: eg. Thijn, Leo van. VAN is simply a connector like VON in German, DE in French, DI in Italian, FON in Yiddish, etc. The letter Y is written as "ij" in Dutch.
     "In 1811 our name was created because Napoleon declared that all citizens in the empire should have civic last names. Jewish folk simply had no last names. There were a lot of Abraham Josephs, Jacob Isaacs, Solomon Nathans, etc., walking around and he simply couldn’t keep track of the taxes he demanded."  
       The name can be traced to what is now the Czech Republic. There's more, but we'll leave it here.
       Leo wrapped up that letter with: "Aren't you glad you asked? [On Oct. 4] I turned 71. It's my excuse for a lot of things.
       "Peace and love."
       OK, well, Leo, we didn't ask. But thank you. And, yes, we are familiar with seeing the name in different forms.
---  
       We first met Leo and Carol at a Thanksgiving family gathering in Knoxville in the late 1990s. The connection then included Ron and Sonja Dubois of Knoxville. Sonja is part of the family (her birth name was Clara Van Thyn).
       She was a "hidden Dutch child" -- subject of a blog piece more than five years ago.
       Leo reminded me of our parents' connection.
       "I should point out that my parents knew of your parents," he wrote. "They met your father a number of times when he was a streetcar conductor [in Amsterdam].
      "The name "van Thijn" was not all that uncommon as we come from a very large family, so they didn't assume that our fathers were related. To you and me the name seems quite uncommon.
       "In the early 1970s I started genealogical research and with my mother's help I wrote a letter to your parents about our possible connection. It took quite a while to get answered and your parents wrote that they didn't believe we were related. 
      "It wasn't until the late 1990s that my studies uncovered that all van Thijns were related, as were van Tijns, and van Teijns, and many Fontijns, Fonteijns, and Fonteins.
      "You might remember that when Carol and I visited Sonja and Ron ... we suddenly showed up at your house, and your parents and children were there. I already had been corresponding with Elsa, but she didn't know what I looked like and she told me later that when we arrived at your house her initial thoughts were, 'How dare Sonja invite strangers?' "
      But we are connected, and that's a good thing.
      "So often, when you write about your parents," Leo wrote, "I find myself thinking how alike your parents and mine were.
      "I really enjoyed corresponding with your mother for some years. It was like talking to my mother. Our parents had much in common and said so much of the same things." 
--- 
http://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-hidden-dutch-child.html