The Best Story My Mother Ever Told Me

Breaking from my Monday tradition, I have decided to post one day early… for Remembrance Day. Now I could go on and on about why it’s important to pay tribute to our Canadian armed forces with proper dignity and respect. But instead, I’ll just re-tell a favourite story from my family.

So without further adieu, this is the best story my mother ever told me:
 

“Life in Wartime”

On June 6, 1944, the Allied forces landed on the beaches of Normandy to establish a military foothold in France against the conquering Nazis.

Mission accomplished.

While the Americans and Brits headed south to free Vichy France, the Canadian forces headed north – virtually alone – to fight against Hitler’s army in the Netherlands.

After months of intense fighting, the Canadian forces finally liberated the Netherlands from several years of Nazi occupation.

My parents were teenagers and young adults during the war. And while it was certainly a dangerous time, it was also an exhilarating time to be young and in love.

So after the war, my dad got rather bored with all the endless reconstruction of Europe. He wanted a new adventure and then convinced my very reluctant mother to leave their country.

He applied to Australia (for the weather). Denied.

He applied to Indonesia (a former Dutch colony). Denied.

The United States wasn’t an option, so he applied to Canada. He was accepted and he moved his young family to Alberta, and later Vancouver.
 

“Return Home”

In May 1994, my hard-nosed mother returned to her homeland to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Dutch liberation.

She was singing in an award-winning choir at the time, and it was invited to tour the country and perform in a series of concerts, along with many other Canadian choirs.

At the first stop in Velp (her hometown), the citizens hosted a parade in honour of the returning war veterans and all the invited Canadian artists. The entire town lined the streets and cheered and clapped and waved Canadian flags.

Finally, a young Dutch girl couldn’t contain herself any longer and broke away from her family. The girl ran straight towards the Canadian marchers and then hugged the legs of the first person she saw – my mother – and exclaimed in English, “Thank you, Canada! Thank you for saving us!”

My mother instantly burst into tears. And then she bent down and said to the little girl in Dutch, “But I’m just like you! I WAS HERE! I WAS HERE!”

And that’s why on the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11 month, I will stop my busy day…pause…remember…and raise a toast to our Canadian forces who gave their lives to defeat Evil, liberate a country, and save my family, and a little Dutch girl who knows and understands her own country’s history more than most Canadian adults know about Canada.

And I hope you will join me.

Peace.
 
For more memorable travel stories, check out:

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/travelling-alone-in-toronto/

https://www.johnmeyerbooks.com/christmas-mobster/