There is a group, called Days-Gone_By , on RedBubble.
In days gone by, my mother and my father rested, back-to-back, during a walk with fellow members of the A.J.C. (Arbeiders Jeugd Centrale) (Labour Youth Centre).
It was through this organisation that my parents, both born in Gouda, the Netherlands. Both born in July. Both born in 1917, got to know each other during the 1930s.
It was my mother’s younger sister whom my father had invited to go to the A.J.C. camp (Similar to the scouts’ jamborees.)
But as they watched my father approach through the little window of the bridgekeeper’s cottage, located near the Red Bridge (Rode Brug) on the Bolwerk (Bulwark), Tante (Aunt) Juul talked my mother into going with him.
In the early fifties, I joined the A.J.C. too.
In this picture I am resting, in front of the leader of the Zwaluwen (The Swallows) and two fellow AJC members, after we had just danced around the May Pole, to celebrate Labour Day.
My mother with four of her five sisters. (Therer was also an older brother and two younger ones.) Her father was a bridge/lock-keeper and my mother disputed the plea / advice of the teacher who came to call, urging my Oma (grandmother) to allow my mother to stay at school.
But my mother saw how difficult it was for Oma, with nine children and went to work in the candle factory.
My mother is the girl with the doll. She loved children.
I was given up on by the doctors, in 1943 but survived. The next boy was still-born. The last one lived about 8 months.
My mother and my Tante (Aunt) Juul.
They shared a bed, when they were little. My mother made up stories for her younger sister before they’d go to sleep.
But sometimes, my aunt Juul, would call down to their mother:
Ma!! She’s goig to let him die again!
(The boy in my mother’s story.)
My grandmother would call back to my mother: Co! Don’t let him die. Just let him be a little bit sick!