Ena with her parents (Anna & Jan) and older sister Joanne.
Ena with parents.
Hank, Joanne, and Ena.
Anna, Ena, John, Phil
Ena with Grand Parents (Valstar), Aunt (Jo Valstar) and Sister Joanne.
Joanne, Ena and Hank
Ena in Holland in 1945.
And her brother and sisters.
Farewell from Holland to Canada 1951. Andy and Ena middle back row.
More farewells 1951.
On the boat from Holland to Canada.
Ena opening crate with her dad (Jan).
Ena working the farm in Taber, AB.
Ena traditional Dutch clothing.
Ena and her mother (Anna).
Andy and Ena's wedding day.
Ena and her father (Jan).
Ena and her mother (Anna).
Heerema get together. Andy and Ena with first children, Joyce and Joanne.
1967 was a special year. That was the year I lived with the Kuyvenhoven family. It was the year my mother was working on a graduate degree in Ann Arbor. It was the centennial year for Canada and we all learned that special song, “one, little two, little three Canadians, we love you; now we are 20 million …” It was the year I went from being an only child to having six brothers and sisters, three younger and three older. It was the year I learned when someone tells you a secret, you better not tell anyone else. It was the year I discovered it is possible to get 9 people in a Volkswagen Hatchback. It was the year I learned about what it meant to be a Kuyvenhoven; to be a part of a large family. The lessons were at times painful. I knew competition from my mother but I learned about the price paid to win from the Kuyvenhovens.
Phil showed me the way to make a real bow and arrow. Not store bought types with rubber tips but with arrows made as sharp as possible. We didn’t play on monkey bars and pretend. We climbed cliffs where the fear of falling could not be allowed to overcome the need to succeed. Wrestling was not an exercise in play but a prep school for the real battle ground. I learned that what Phil had in terms of bravado and unstoppable confidence, Joanne and Joyce added with words, thoughts and talents that made them seem much older and wiser. I was overwhelmed by both the capability and the energy of my older cousins. They were leaders and though they may not know it, it propelled me forward all through my formative years in Calgary.
Margaret, Cora and Leonard were still in their incubation years. The seed was sown but their Kuyvenhoven traits were, to this point, not so visible. When I was ill-equipped to compete with Phil, and that was a majority of the time, it was Margaret who reached out with her presence. It was with Margaret I found rest.
Every eight year old should have had a year with the Kuyvenhovens. Reaching for something beyond is expected, knowing the hierarchal structure of the family is both tested but also earned, and lessons are cultured at the deepest level.
This week I tried to remember what Tante Ena meant to me. From the perspective of an eight year old it’s difficult to understand the workings of the adult world. My memories are not of sipping tea with my Aunt as we may have in the later years. The Kuyvenhovens are a family with many personalities and needs. That she would reach out and offer help to Joanne to take me for a year says much about Tante Ena. I came to Hamilton as an only child with many indulgences. When my mother brought her black and white TV to Hamilton for us to use Tante Ena had to teach me that it was not my possession but would have to be shared. I understood this but it wasn’t an easy lesson to learn and she didn’t give up, though she had some very persuasive help from my older cousins. We all enjoyed watching “The Monkeys” and “Tarzan” together. Tante Ena conscripted all of us for chores and their completion was a serious matter. The dishes were set and washed with each meal and there was no excuse too large to be omitted from any of the tasks. Every Saturday the shoes had to be polished for church the next day. Through the workings of the Kuyvenhoven family I learned the benefit of cooperation. Through the tone set by Tante Ena I learned the value of family. She made that blessing possible.
One evening I had the chore of vacuuming. Though there was always a need to complete the work there was also a requirement to never omit the desire for fun. That night I plugged the cleaner’s hose while running it. The increased work load by the motor resulted in the appliance’s abrupt failure. Money was tight and I had just killed the main life blood of the clean Kuyvenhoven home. There was no amount of consoling that could keep me from crying that night. It lasted for hours. I had dealt a personal blow to Tante Ena and felt the full weight of it. That was a terrible night.
Tante Ena had to deal with something that was uniquely me, and unfortunately my children as well. I was a bed wetter the full year I was in Hamilton. When there are nine people in the household and one of them might require clean bedding each day, the Hotel Kuyvenhoven was not prepared for this added load. No one liked dealing with this and out of embarrassment there were days I just didn’t tell anyone what had occurred the previous night. For some reason I didn’t think anyone else would notice the sweet aromas coming from my bed. I was wrong. Everyone showed such patience for me in spite of me.
After Centennial Year it was only occasionally that I went to visit with Tante Ena and the Kuyvenhovens. Six years later my mom and I would camp across Canada and visited them in Grand Rapids. Summers in Grand Rapids can be hot and humid and we went one day to a local lake for relief. The lake had a raft and, as could be expected, Phil was quick to dominate as “king” of the raft. I remember driving to and from the lake with Tante Ena. She had an old Valiant (I think). It being Michigan there was much rust. It was so bad that the floor boards in back had recessed to where the road could be seen below your feet. I remember thinking this was too extreme and could not be safe but then again this is what it meant to be a Kuyvenhoven so it was alright. All of us cousins had turned into young adults and for me it was bitter sweet to say good bye when the connection was still there from the year in Hamilton.
I really never knew Tante Ena as an adult. I know my mother has always had a special connection with her. I knew she had a passion for photography and had a need to express herself creatively in this medium. I wished we lived closer so that I could better understand her but also express my thankfulness for what she contributed to my life.
There are two things I’ve thought about concerning Tante Ena in the past while. I taped my mother talking about this pair of photos about 14 years ago and by chance listened to her describe the time while on a bicycle ride this summer. It’s the first home the Heerema family lived in Calgary (Forest Lawn). The roads were primitive and the sewage system more so. When I see this photo I see mud and I see Opa (Jan Heerema) laughing at the comedy of trying to navigate in and out of the home. When mom talked about the photo of the van she said Tante Ena was very upset because the family vehicle was only driven by the boys and Opa. None of the girls were allowed to drive and so one day she took matters in her own hands and took the van. She immediately drove the beast into the fence knocking it completely over. She never went to drive the van again my mom said. This is not the kind of first lesson you should learn about driving and I would have liked to hear what Tante Ena would have had to say about this event.
First house in Calgary (Forest Lawn).
First vehicle.
This photo I viewed for the first time 15 years ago. The similarity in features Tante Ena and Cousin Margaret share is strong. This photo helped me understand the life she had before knowing her as Tante Ena; The reason Uncle Andy came to be with her in Canada, to start a new life with her in a new place; The beauty all her children possess. Her beauty is breathtaking but it’s the quiet of the moment that speaks to me.
Ena.
Like every one of her siblings, the Heerema story is both larger than life and unique. To think Tante Ena is this moment celebrating her life through family brings great comfort. To think Tante Ena has been comforted from the pain of the esophageal cancer, having tried her every moment these past 10 years is a great relief. To think Tante Ena, in the flash of a moment, has reacquainted her life with Oma (Anna) and Opa (Jan) Heerema brings great peace.
