History Lost

A younger person holding a microphone recording the thoughts of an older person sitting in a recliner.
(Image: Gemini)

“When an elder dies, a library burns to the ground.”
– African proverb

My parents lived in the Netherlands during the German occupation of World War II. For years, they experienced it all: the buildup, the atrocities, and finally liberation.

Sadly, I know precious little about their experiences during this time.

Oh, there are a few stories they shared, such as diving into a ditch to avoid German patrols, dumping illicit home-made gin into the river so as not to be caught, and so on. My father once shared that he was part of the Dutch army for some time and taught motorcycle marksmanship (I didn’t even know it was a thing).

But these stories were really just the tip of the iceberg of a much deeper and horrific experience. They reflected only those thoughts that were easy for my parents to sit with and to share. In a sense, they were the “good” or safe stories culled from a time of unimaginable tragedy and hardship.

As I look back, some 20 years after their deaths, and as I learn more about that time period in general, I wish I’d heard more of it all. I wish I’d asked more about it.

I have questions. For example, I never heard from them about the “Hongerwinter” (Hunger Winter – a period of famine during the occupation). It wasn’t until after they’d both been gone that I heard and understood the term. I knew they’d had hard times, but I recalled nothing about this specific and very significant time. How did they survive? Who did they lose? What was it like?

My parents are immigrants. In 1952, they left the Netherlands and moved to Canada.

I don’t know why. Was it a lack of work? Politics? Family conflict? What was the motivation?

A few years before I was born, my mother made a multi-month trip back to the Netherlands. I don’t know why. Was she homesick? Was it just to be with her sister, who was to give birth to her first child? Were there issues with my parents’ marriage? What was the motivation for what at the time would have been an extremely disruptive and costly trip?

These questions and many more will never be answered.

I had a good relationship with my parents. In hindsight, my appreciation for who they were and how I was raised has only improved as I encounter the stories of others less fortunate. It’s very likely they’d answer anything I asked … if I’d asked.

Graph of information availability over time.
(Image: leo.notenboom.org)

The problem is simple:

When we’re young, we’re not interested. We have lives of our own to build. Even if the stories are told, we’re unlikely to pay deep attention, and less likely to remember what’s been shared. It’s highly likely that my parents shared stories I now don’t recall.

When we’re older, we’re too busy. Even if we begin to realize the importance, or we just get a little curious about our family history, our careers, growing families, and other life goals all get in the way.

When we’re older still, it’s often too late. The elders we would ask are gone. The library has burned to the ground.

The solution is both simple and difficult: prioritize having those talks and asking those questions. It’s unlikely that your parents and grandparents were in situations as extreme as occupied Netherlands, but they still have stories to tell. We all have stories to tell.

Ask them for their stories.

If I had the opportunity today, I’d go so far as to fire up the recorder on my phone or take notes of some sort.

It doesn’t have to be some serious, formal, oral history session (though those can be incredibly valuable as well). It can be as simple as taking the time to occasionally ask questions and somehow remembering or recording the answer.

How did you survive Hongerwinter?
Why did you leave the Netherlands?
What’s the story behind Mom’s trip back?

Those are just some of the questions I’d ask my younger self to ask.

My situation is not at all unique. In fact, I’d say it’s likely very common. Particularly if relationships aren’t great, or in some cases, if those relationships don’t exist at all, it can be difficult or impossible to broach the subject.

Our ancestry is a large part of who we are. Understanding the stories that brought you here — and don’t think for a second that your parents’ stories aren’t part of your story — can help you understand yourself and those around you much better.

Think about what you know of your family history, and what questions you might have.

Then ask them while you can.

❤️

Some oral history research and resources:

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