In this letter, dated June 21, 1961, Opa Willem writes to his (former) employer in Zuidwolde about his experiences on the boat to New York and in America.
Dear Oudmanfamily,
As agreed, I guess I’ll write a little note.
By now, I have a pretty good idea of how things work here in America.
I had a good trip, at least the first five days on the boat were beautiful. But then, a few days past Ireland, everything went wrong. The weather was fine, but according to the captain, there are three undercurrents beneath the water, one off the coast of Greenland, another near the North Pole, and one from New York. The boat acted so mean that I felt sicker than a dog. Everything was against me and on top of that, I felt so homesick. I thought: “What on earth have you done?” I only had one thought: “As soon as my feet touch solid ground, I’m getting on a plane and going straight home.” Luckily, the last night the boat calmed down a bit, and I started to feel better.
At six in the morning, I was already on deck, and what a beautiful day it was. We were close to the coast of New York. It was a stunning sight. First, there was a small island in the sea with that great statue of Liberty, I would say almost as tall as the Martinitoren. You can hardly believe how beautiful it looks. And then that vast city with its tall buildings. By seven o’clock, the boat was in. It was pushed to shore by four tugboats.
First, all the luggage had to be brought ashore, and then it was our turn, one by one at customs. It took a long time. Then to find that huge warehouse of bags, that warehouse was, I think, about three hundred meters long and nearly a hundred meters wide. There were all these racks with A, B, C letters above. That made it easy for me to bring my bags back to customs. I opened my suitcase, and it was full of women’s clothes.
When I was busy with that, a young woman suddenly threw her arms around me. I thought, what are we going to experience now? I hadn’t seen it coming. That was Annie, followed by Klaas and the two oldest boys. I first cried for a moment. It may seem strange for an older man, but I can’t help it.
We arrived at ten o’clock from New York to Buffalo. The road is 700 kilometers long without a traffic light. All the side roads have bridges over them. How beautiful it all was! Tall rocky cliffs in the distance, it feels like you’re looking up at the clouds, and there you are in the realm of nature, the greatness of God. Indeed, how small humans become.
Down in the valleys, there are small villages and houses, along with some farms and occasionally large car factories. Places between New York and Buffalo include Newburgh, Kingston, Catskill, Albany, Amsterdam, Utica, Syracuse, Batavia, and Buffalo. Yes, I realize I’m rambling. You all probably know all this from the map. In the evening, around nine o’clock, we were in Buffalo, which is located by the great Lake Erie. We then drove another forty kilometers to the Niagara Falls. That’s where the waterfalls are. We arrived there around ten at night. It was also magnificent. There were large searchlights pointed at them. I reckon there were still about a thousand people from near and far there to see it.
That is actually the border between America and Canada. We then drove another half hour and spent the night at a motel.
The next morning at seven o’clock, we were back on the road through Canada to Wigboldus. That country is so vast and beautiful. We passed by large fields of grapevines in the open land. By nine o’clock, we were at Wigboldus. They looked at us strangely when we arrived there.
They were, in my impression, quite happy. We drank coffee there. They live there in solitude. The owner of that farm has fifteen farms. We were there on May 20. At that time, they still had 500 hectares to sow. But that has nothing to do with Wigboldus. He has 200 manure calves in pens under the roof, which he needs to take care of. The manure is removed twice a year with two tractors and grapples, and they are done in half a day. Those pens are about one and a half meters below ground level, with concrete paths in between. Outside, it’s arranged so that they drive the hay and straw up to the attic with the tractor, letting the feed drop through here and there, which is sold for about 25 cents per pound.
At ten o’clock we departed for London. There we paused for a moment. From there to Sarnia and Port Huron. Between Sarnia and Port Huron, we crossed the Blue Water Bridge, 210 feet above the water. That was again a beautiful sight over Lake Erie. It also marks the border between Canada and America.
After that, we continued driving to Grand Rapids. That day we also drove 700 kilometers and arrived home at half past six in the evening. We had barely been home when Jan Kersaan appeared in person before me. When he left twelve years ago, he had to look up to me, and now I have to look up to him. He weighs 240 pounds.
Last Thursday, I went to Chicago with him to pick up steel for the new mold they are working on. Klaas and Jan are now collaborating. We left at six in the morning and arrived in Chicago by half past eleven. Oh, what a large city it is, with five million inhabitants! The cities here are all built in a village-like manner, which is why they are so expansive. There’s a roadway running through the middle of Chicago, elevated above the houses and factories. That road stretches for a hundred kilometers, offering a magnificent view. On both sides, you see houses and factories. In just one month, I’ve seen more than I normally would in 75 years. I have also visited several farms, but that’s about all I can handle; the wheat was already in ear, as long as a shoe. It sells for five to eight cents per kilogram. If they were to ask me to put a name on my farm, I would call it “The Last Refuge.” And if I were back home and Oudsman asked me, I would put “Great Prosperity” on it.
I have also been to Annie Harkema’s place. They have a farm with twelve acres, where they keep five thousand chickens, some pigs, and a few ducks. Her husband is away all week, and she manages with six children and five thousand chickens. The government gives farmers a subsidy of 75 guilders per acre if they do not cultivate, due to overproduction. It’s quite a contrast to the Netherlands, where they receive support when it is brought into production.
If I were in the information service, I would tell all young farmers and workers to sing at the top of their lungs, “I love you, my Netherlands,” and stay beautiful there. If I were young and they offered me a farm here for free, I would surely decline it.
Grand Rapids is also a large city, not due to its population, which is only about two hundred thousand, but also because of its architecture. The buildings and homes are usually about fifty feet apart from each other.
There are forty-seven Reformed churches here, and only one of them holds a Dutch service in the afternoon. And only about fifty people attend that service. The Dutch language is fading here.
I also go to church with them in the morning, but it naturally goes over my head. On the first Sunday, the pastor was still there; he shook my hand from the pulpit and tried to speak a little Dutch with me, but he managed to communicate as much as I do in English.
I haven’t felt bored here for a moment, but two things are challenging for me. The language and the heat. It’s consistently between 80 to 90 degrees every day, and sometimes even hotter. The children want to tell me everything, but I don’t understand a word.
She tells me that it comes because Klaas and Annie speak Dutch together. Klaas is very busy. They work with five people, Auke, and another one works with him, plus a helper. But Auke has three months of vacation and is now working hard to earn some money so he can continue. He got his transition list yesterday. It had all 8s and 9s in every subject. That’s going very well. Everything is good here with me too.
And how are the fruits in the field? Everything is fine again. I had much more to say, but the page is full. Best regards from all of us.
Schoonveld.