Schoonveld Family

We thought it would be nice to meet the cousins in person again. We only see each other at funerals now. Usually, we don’t talk, and if we ourselves are laid to rest, we definitely won’t be speaking anymore.

The time is ripe, as from the oldest generation, only two of us are not over 80 yet. A strong lineage, indeed! Except for a few who, in our eyes, passed away far too young, we are all growing old. We are living on borrowed time and are like daytrippers. Naturally, we miss those who are no longer with us. Each time, a piece is taken from your heart, and that hurts. We are all afraid of being the last ones left.

For this reunion, we chose Ten Boer because that’s where the Schoonveld family roots lie. Our father and grandfather were born on May 4, 1886, under the smoke of Garmerwolde. The little house (more suitable as a stable for a billy goat) was next to the lime ovens. (see photo on the invitation)

Our father’s father had a very privileged job here. He was a stoker and was allowed to live in the shack. However, the fire had to be kept burning even at night. So, it wasn’t that great after all.

Father had one sister, Aunt Martje, who was 11 years older. She had one stillborn child and a one-year-old boy who passed away. The sadness was already present then.

Father became a small farmer. He certainly did not have an easy life. It was extremely hard.

Father married in 1913 to his first wife, Albertje Stuurwold. Grandpa Stuurwold was, I believe, a shipowner, but that might not be accurate. Perhaps he owned a raft.

Father and Mother Stuurwold had 3 children. Mother passed away in 1918, at only 26 years old. Father was left with 3 kids too young to comprehend such a loss. For Father, it was a disaster. A struggle for help, no money, and much sadness.

In 1921, Father married our mother. She was initially his housekeeper. Together, they had 11 more children.

The little farm kept deteriorating. The cows were sold off, but the children kept coming. Difficult years, indeed, the crisis years of the ’20s – ’40s. We were poor, but never went around in rags or went hungry. I think our parents would have preferred it differently. There was definitely no lack of will for anyone to get an education. Every cent they earned had to be spent.

In 1927, the family moved to Zuidbroek. Father started working for the railways. That was no fortune either. Twelve guilders a week for 14 people. The two oldest sisters had already left home, and Willem worked during the day on a farm and stayed home for meals. Harke and I became quite plump because we were always allowed to lick clean his little pot.

In May 1940, we moved to Zuidwolde. Father, Jo, Klaas, and Martje started working for farmer Schuringa. That was quite a disaster. In Zuidbroek, we had a nice house for the time. Here, we came to live in a shack. It was filthy, it stank, and mice danced on the table. Our mother cried a lot.

Fortunately, Father and the farmer were not friends; they had a fierce argument, and we left for Bedum in September. That was just temporary, as plans were underway to build a new home in Zuidwolde. In June 1941, we moved there.

By then, the war was raging. The Germans were in control of our country. Again big worries. Three sons had to go into hiding. Worry and tension were their companions. Sien was arrested and taken to a camp in Germany. She remained there until liberation in 1945.

Fortunately, our family emerged from the war, albeit poor and destitute. So destitute that Klaas and Piet volunteered to go to Indonesia. At least they would have some clothes, was their excuse. It was a blow for our parents again. They were supposed to leave on January 1, 1946. Before that happened, however, the most significant tragedy that can strike a family occurred. Our mother died on December 9, 1945, after a week of being ill. How could God allow such a thing? I hated Him. What was Father to do? He was left alone again with six children under 18, the youngest being 9 years old. How did he manage?

As mentioned, Klaas and Piet left on January 1, 1946. Klaas returned in 1948. Piet was killed during a rescue mission.

Yet another heavy blow. But life went on. Klaas and Auke emigrated to America. These were still tough years right after the war, frugal years. Each lived their life.

As young people, we didn’t understand how hard Father had it.

Father always used to say, “You will understand it later,” and I only now realize what he meant.

In 1954, Father witnessed a grandson fatally injured almost right before his eyes.

In 1961, Father traveled to America to visit his sons. (film of grandpa Willem in America). After that, he was never truly healthy again. On December 5, 1961, Father passed away unexpectedly at the age of 75. Fortunately, he managed to stay in his own home until the end, always cared for by one of his children.

If he could just look in now, he would beam and say, “Did I create all this, all these beautiful, intelligent, and rich people?”

Father had 14 children and 58 grandchildren. The subsequent descendants are nearly impossible to count. Over 200 great-grandchildren and beyond. What a wealth.

I hope this story wasn’t too long.

I wish you all a very pleasant evening and hope that everyone leaves satisfied.

We old folks wanted to organize this, but it merely remained a thought. If Coen hadn’t done this on our behalf, nothing would have come of it. On behalf of all of us:

“Thank you, Coen”