Getting Detained In Canada With David, Theo & Ruby

Incoming "Where in the PNW (Pacific Northwest) are David, Ruby?" email showed up this morning when I woke up my computer.

Text in the email indicated this one is too easy to guess where the Tacoma Trio are. Which it clearly is, what with the Slotemaker Road sign indicating the Tacoma Trio were in the Lynden zone, a short distance from the border with Canada.

The rest of the text in the email, that accompanied four instances of photo documentation, was a chilling tale of what it is like these days at the border, a border which used to be super simple to cross, both going to Canada, and coming back to the U.S.

The email text telling the chilling tale is below the next photo.


There seem to be some details missing in this cross border detention tale. They must have somehow accidentally driven across the border. I don't quite know how one might accidentally do that. At the Lynden crossing you clearly know you are at the border, you pass through a checkpoint to enter, something you don't accidentally do.

I am thinking crossing the border has drastically changed since I last did so. Back then you did not even have to show an I.D., let alone a passport. The Canadian border guy would just ask where you're going and if you are all American citizens. Then on the return the American border guy would ask a question or two, like do you have anything to declare that you purchased.

Ok, this one is too easy. But a funny story. Went to Bellingham for a soccer game. Jake and Joe and Monique and Henry came to the game. Henry is a hoot! And Ruby’s team won 1-0, so now they need to come to all the games. After, we hit up Slotemaker road again, had a lovely lunch with Judy and the Whatcom County cousins, visited mom and dad then got ice cream cones at Edeleen. Since we were so close to the border, we drove to show the kids. But we went too far, had to enter Canada, didn’t have ID for the kids and we got detained! I had pics of their passports on my phone and that worked and they gave us paperwork to get back into the US. It was a bit of an ordeal. They even searched our car. So weird!

I am assuming Edeleens is a dairy store selling ice cream that has arrived in Lynden since I was last there, back in August of 2017.

I assume the above is a border marker at the Lynden border location. I do not recollect ever having seen this myself. 

I am assuming the above photo shows Theo, David and Ruby in the detention area, awaiting being cleared for passage back to America.

When my siblings and I were kids we were often taken to Canada by our parental units. Usually entering via the crossing at Blaine, which is the location of the iconic Peace Arch Park. When we were kids we thought it great fun to jump back and forth across the border, thinking it clever to later say we went to Canada 50 times today, or some such number.

I do not recollect ever going to Blaine's Peace Arch Park with David, Theo & Ruby's Mama Michele. Michele is the youngest of my siblings, younger than me by almost two decades...

Frozen Icebound Washington Weather Report From Nephew Jason

 My old home zone of the Skagit Valley, and Whatcom County, have been iced over of late, making vehicular travel treacherous. 

Incoming email from my Favorite Jason Nephew, that I did not see til this Saturday morning, but arrived in my email inbox on Thursday. I do not know why I did not see this email til this morning. 

The explanatory text in the email...

FUD -

I took this shot off the TV yesterday afternoon.    

And then checked on our above ground living Lynden relative.

She reported 7 inches of snow in the front yard and 3-to-4-foot drifts between her apartment and the garage.    Jeff came by and cleared her front steps and walkway.

Back here in the valley the ground and air are still frozen. Schools were cancelled yesterday as well as today.  I kept my restaurant closed both days as very few people are out and about.   And as I type this, it is currently snowing in Mount Vernon.  We only have a few inches—but enough to virtually shut down the city.

Temps have been below freezing for a week now.

-FNJ

_________________________

FUD is the abbreviation of Favorite Uncle D. FNJ is the abbreviation of Favorite Nephew Jason. Lynden is a Dutch dominated town a few miles south of the Canadian border.

At my North Texas location we are also freezing, with the arrival of a new Arctic Blast, yesterday. The current forecast for my location predicts possible frozen precipitation precipitating on Monday... 

Microsoft OneDrive Takes Me To A Cool Pool With Uncle Mel, Dad & Grandma

Microsoft OneDrive Memories from the Day, that I do not remember happening on this day, arrived in my email a few minutes ago.

The first memory, that one you see above, I took with my long gone Casio digital camera. That camera had a unique reverse the lens feature that allowed for taking what we now call selfies, nowadays taken with ones phone. 

But those selfie type phones had not yet come to be, early in this century, when the above "selfie" was taken. I know this photo was not a memory from January 17. Because I can see I am standing by the pool that existed at my first abode in Texas.

That pool was not heated. No way was I in that pool, or near it, shirtless, in January. 

Another photo in today's OneDrive memories is a tad poignant.

Uncle Mel, my dad, Jack, and Grandma Slotemaker.

I do not recognize where this photo was taken.

But, it likely was at a location in Lynden, a Dutch themed Washington town near the border with Canada...

Jason & Spencer Jack's Snowy Visit To Our Only Lynden Aunt

Yesterday, that being the day known as Wednesday, my Favorite Nephew Jason, also known as FNJ, sent my phone two photos. The first, that being the one above, is a classic look at Washington's one and only town which is Dutch themed, namely Lynden. 

The majority of my relatives used to live in Lynden and the area surrounding Lynden. A short distance east of town one comes to Slotemaker Road and the Slotemaker Farm. The Dutch name Slotemaker translates into English as Jones.

When I saw the above photo I could not quite make out who it was looking at the camera. So, I zoomed in and cropped out the camera looker.

As you can see, it was Spencer Jack standing in front of Lynden's most famous windmill. It has been quite a few years since I roamed the main street of Lynden. If I remember right the windmill is one of the access points to a sort of underground mall type thing in Lynden's downtown. I think I remember playing miniature golf in that underground mall. And roller skating and maybe bowling. The memory is hazy.

In the text that came in with the photos Jason did not mention that he and Spencer made a visit to Spencer Jack's great grandpa and gteat grandma. If you look closely you can see where Spencer got his middle name.

Jason did mention that being up in Whatcom County, and Lynden, they were experiencing the first lowland snow of the year.

That and they paid a visit to one of our few relatives still living in Lynden. That being my favorite 79 year old aunt. Jason said they had a nice visit. I have always had fun teasing that particular aunt. She usually took the teasing good naturedly. 

Jason said during the visit they discussed various relative's medical diagnoses. Along with discussing one of the relatives in relative need of a psychiatric exam. And possible behavior modifying medication such as Prozac or Zoloft or maybe Wellbutrin...

Spencer Jack Takes His Dad To Lynden To Help Trump Make America Great Again

Yesterday Spencer Jack's dad, my Favorite Nephew Jason, called to ask me how I was liking Kansas, among other things, including mentioning that Spencer Jack and he were thinking of journeying north to Lynden today to help Donald Trump make America great again.

This morning I got email confirming that Spencer Jack and his dad were going to be witnessing America's biggest embarrassment in person.

The text in the email said....

Spencer Jack and I procured two tickets to today's big event. This should be amusing.

Including in the email were copies of the two tickets to the Big Event, one of which you see above.

I read this morning in the Seattle Times that Trump's visit to Washington is not being welcomed by a lot of Washingtonians. I suspect protesting will ensue.

Both Whatcom County, where Lynden is located, and the county on Whatcom's southern border, that being Skagit County, have large populations of Mexican descent.

Trump will be appearing at the Lynden Fairgrounds, where the Northwest Washington State Fair takes place. I think that's the name of that fair. It has been decades since I have attended that particular state fair.

Anyway, it should be interesting to hear Spencer Jack's and Jason's report on today's likely Trump fiasco....

Spencer Jack Takes His Dad Memorial Hunting In Lynden Prior To Donald Trump's Visit

No, that is not Wichita Falls you are looking at here.

Wichita Falls is a manmade waterfall in a manmade town in Texas named Wichita Falls.

The slight falling cascades you are looking at here are in the manmade town of Lynden in the state of Washington, about 5 miles south of the Canadian border.

Spencer Jack drove his dad to Lynden a  couple days ago to complete a task I had tasked Spencer and his dad with a month or so ago.

That task was for Spencer Jack and his dad to go to Lynden City Park to see if a memorial plaque was still in place near the wooden footbridge which crosses Fishtrap Creek.

Well, Spencer Jack's dad, my Favorite Nephew Jason, called me this morning to report the wooden footbridge across Fishtrap Creek has been replaced. With no memorial plaque memorializing Spencer Jack's Great Great Gandpa, Dr. Jim Porter.

In the second picture Spencer Jack is waving at us from the edge of Fishtrap Creek. I assume Spencer Jack's dad's photo vantage point is from the aforementioned new footbridge across Fishtrap Creek.

In addition to the Fishtrap Creek missing memorial plaque report, Jason also reported that he was surprised to learn from my brother, Jake Jones, that I had moved to Kansas.

Apparently my brother attended mom and dad's weekly Sunday McDonald's Brunch, where mom reported that I'd called  the day before with the news I'd moved to Wichita, Kansas.

I am fairly certain I did not tell my mom I had moved to Kansas. I did tell my mom I'd grown a bit weary of the daily moving roundtrips to my new location, and that I'd be returning to D/FW once a month, at least.

I have driven through Wichita, Kansas a couple times. The freeway is elevated as you pass through the town, if my memory is serving me correctly. I do not remember experiencing that particular Wichita at ground level, except maybe to get gas.

Spencer Jack and his dad did manage to locate one special memorial plaque in Lynden.

In Lynden's Monumenta Cemetery, the headstone of Spencer Jack's Great Great Grandma, Sylvia Slotemaker. Slotemaker is how you spell Jones in Dutch.

Hard to believe it is almost 22 years since the day after I returned from my first Lake Powell Houseboating trip in October of 1994 when my mom called to tell me that Grandma Jones had died. Grandma would be so pleased to have Spencer Jack visit her like this.

22 years ago, if you had told me that 22 years in the future my mom would be thinking I'd moved from Texas to Kansas, my feeble imagination would not have been able to conjure a scenario where that would make sense.

Any yet, here I am.

Tomorrow Donald Trump will be in Lynden, at the fairgrounds. Jason thinks he and Spencer Jack may show up, just to experience the lunacy in person.....

Drive Down Jones Memory Lane Via The Slotemaker Road To Lynden

My Favorite Nephew, Jason Jones, sent me this months ago. I forgot about it til looking for a photo this morning.

The road sign you are looking at is located in Whatcom County in Washington. The Canadian border is about 10 miles to the north.

For you reading this in Texas, that big blue wall looking thing under the clouds is known as a foothill. In this case it is a foothill of the Cascade Mountains. If those clouds were not hovering we would likely be seeing the Mount Baker volcano.

My Dutch ancestors arrived in America in the early 1890s. I think 1892. I believe they entered America via Ellis Island, but I am not sure of that. I do not know if my ancestors were illegal immigrants or if they had passports and entry visas, or whatever the legal arrival document was at that time in history.

I do know the reason my ancestors wanted to move to America was to escape the constant European wars. Sort of ironic in the year 2016.

I also know my first ancestral Anchor Baby was my dad's dad, my grandpa, Cornelius. I am guessing my Dutch ancestors were legit American citizens before the birth of their first Anchor Baby. The only one of my original Dutch ancestors who I got to meet was great-grandma Tillie, wife of my dad's dad's dad, John. I learned a little Dutch from my great grandma. Words such as brookies.

My Dutch Ancestors quickly assimilated into America. Only great great grandpa, Cornelius, did not learn to be fluent in English. Great grandma Tillie had a bit of a Dutch accent.

Upon arrival the family of four headed west to find their future, going from one Dutch community to another. Always hoping for something better than what they'd found.

Eventually my great grandpa, John, was sent, by train, to the far Pacific Northwest, where the family had heard of a flourishing Dutch community. Grandpa John returned to his mom  and dad and wife to report that he had found their final destination, a land of fertile soil, like Holland,  the tallest trees he'd ever seen, fish in abundance in clear rivers, berries growing wild, along with apples.

The family soon headed west to their new home, bought land next to what became a road named after my family's Dutch name, before the name became Americanized to "Jones".

The Dutch are picky people. Which is why so many kept on heading west til there was no more America to move to, unless they wanted to hop a boat and try Hawaii. The town near the Slotemaker Jones Farm is called Lynden. Modern day Lynden is sort of a Dutch theme town, with windmills and precisely trimmed lawns where, unlike Texas, no litter is allowed.

And, like Texas, an inordinate number of churches.....

A Tale Of Texas Tulips And My Great Grandpa Rejecting The Lone Star State

This morning among the ads on the back page of the Dallas Observer I saw an ad that upon first perusal I thought was advertising tulip fields back in my old home zone of the Skagit Valley of Washington, where the annual Skagit Tulip Festival starts up April 1, lasting through April 30.

What was being advertised was not a tulip field in Washington called Texas-Tulips, but instead what was being advertised was a tulip field in Texas, called, appropriately, Texas-Tulips.

I do not recollect ever seeing a tulip blooming in Texas. I figured the extremes of the climate made that bulb reluctant to bloom.

I figured wrong.

This morning I blogged about the Texas-Tulip operation on my Eyes on Texas blog in a blogging titled Tiptoe Through Texas Tulips.

On the Texas-Tulips website I learned that their "story begins in Holland, the Netherlands."

It seems like just about every tulip story traces back to Holland. I know that is the case with the Skagit Valley tulips.

The Dutch Americans who planted the Texas-Tulips did so in a field located near Pilot Point, east of Denton, at the north end of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex.

Way back around the start of the new century I had reason to learn my family history, on my dad's side, going all the way back to when my great-great grandpa brought my great-great grandma, great grandpa , great grandma and great aunt to America, back in 1889, the year Washington became a state.

But, it was not to Washington my ancestors first journeyed to when leaving Ellis Island. They ended up in a town somewhere in the middle of America. Iowa maybe. It's been a few years and I have a bad memory. However, I do remember my great grandpa was sent to Texas to see if a Dutch community they'd heard of somewhere in the Denton/Pilot Point zone looked promising.

My great grandpa returned to his family to report that Texas is not where they wanted to be. My great grandpa was then sent, by train, to Washington, eventually ending at the far northwest corner of the state, a short distance from the Canadian border, at a Dutch town called Lynden.

My great grandpa returned to his family with tales of apple orchards, berries growing wild, the tallest trees he'd ever seen, fertile land similar to Holland. And mountains. Soon my relatives boarded a train and made their way to Washington, where they soon had a farm and a road named after them, which exists to this day.

And somehow I ended up in the land of Texas, which my great grandpa rejected a long long time ago....

Walking A Fosdic Lake Stairway To Nowhere Pondering How Difficult It Is To Have Dutch Sensibilities In Texas

Fosdic Lake Stairway To Nowhere

The photo of the dark Fosdic Lake Stairway to Nowhere may be what is known as a visual metaphor, signifying symbolically the depths of despair this day after day of damp, gray, cold weather is having on my usually reliably upbeat self.

This endless gloomy weather is even getting to the perennial Polly Anna known as Elsie Hotpepper. Today Elsie is talking about consulting a Fortune Teller to see if some direction can be found for Elsie's quest to figure out if she is okay or not okay.

I told Elsie Hotpepper that she is okay, but I'm no Fortune Teller, so my opinion really does not matter.

It was slightly raining when the point in time came for my doctor prescribed daily bout of endorphin inducing aerobic stimulation. I chose the Oakland Lake Park walk around Fosdic Lake option, which I've already sort of indicated with the mention made of the Fosdic Lake Stairway to Nowhere.

I did not employ the services of of a bumbershoot to facilitate a dry walk. A windbreaker with a hood sufficed as sufficient waterproofing.

This morning my nephew sent me several photos taken when my nephew took my grand-nephew, Spencer Jack, up to our family hometown, Lynden, to visit relatives.

That is Spencer Jack standing above my grandma, his dad's great-grandma and Spencer Jack's great-great-grandma.

Neither Spencer or my nephew would have reason to know this, but grandma would have been very pleased to know a great-great-grandson was visiting her.

Lynden is a Dutch town. With a number of churches that would make the Buckle of the Bible Belt, where I am now, Green with Envy.

Lynden's cemetery is called Monumenta. Monumenta is on both sides of the Front Street entry into Lynden.

Monumenta is segregated.

Dutch people are buried on the north side of Front Street, non-Dutch on the south side. I have relatives in the ground on both sides of Front Street.

In Lynden you will find no litter. Lawns are kept meticulously trimmed. To not keep your lawn meticulously trimmed would be to risk extreme ostracism. But likely, unlike Fort Worth, you would not be in danger of a citation or fine.

Growing up with Lynden, Washington as part of my background, may explain part of the reason why I can be so appalled at some things I see in Fort Worth. Like littered, weedy, un-landscaped freeway exits to a town's top tourist attraction.

Am I the only Dutch person in Fort Worth?

Remembering Uncle Mel & The Burned Green Beans

That is my Uncle Mel, with a cow, somewhere in Whatcom County in Washington, back in the late 1940s, or early 1950s.

Uncle Mel was born March 18, 1939 in Lynden, Washington. Uncle Mel died, yesterday, May 14, 2010.

Uncle Mel was diagnosed with prostate cancer, shortly after July 27, 2002. I remember that date because it was the date of the biggest family reunion in my family's history. It took place in Lynden.

Uncle Mel seemed fine when I talked to him at that reunion, so I was quite surprised to learn a short time later that he had cancer and that it had metastasized. The prognosis was not good.

But, somehow Uncle Mel fought the cancer for 8 years. During those 8 years Uncle Mel and my Aunt Judy traveled the country visiting relatives. On at least 2, maybe 3 occasions, all of Uncle Mel's siblings, including my dad, met up somewhere in America. Once it was at Salt Lake City. Another time it was in the Black Hills of South Dakota.

I had 2 uncles after whom I modeled my extremely successful uncle career, one was Uncle Mooch, the other Uncle Mel.

Soon after we moved from the town I was born in, Eugene, Oregon, to Mount Vernon, Washington, Uncle Mel moved in with us, for awhile, while he went to college across the street at the newly opened Skagit Valley College. I think it had a different name back then.

My memory is a bit foggy, I don't remember how long Uncle Mel went to Skagit. I do remember an incident where he was supposed to be watching after me and my siblings, and dinner, that was on the stove, cooking. I don't know where my mom was, but Uncle Mel fell asleep. And the green beans burned. I remember this as a big deal at the time and the source of much amusement.

In early 1961 Uncle Mel married Aunt Judy. That wedding remains one of the most mysterious to ever occur in my family. Soon after getting married Uncle Mel enlisted in the Air Force. He was stationed in Turkey.

And Texas.

One of my cousins was born in San Angelo and another was born in Waco.

Unlike me, my Uncle Mel and family quickly escaped Texas and returned to the Northwest, eventually building a house outside Lynden, where my cousin, Mike, built the most elaborate treehouse I have ever seen.

Uncle Mel retired in 1998, 4 years before he was to learn he had cancer.

The last time I saw my Uncle Mel was in April of 2006, at my nephew's wedding reception in Mount Vernon. I remember a picture was taken with me and my siblings and Uncle Mel. I'll see if I can find it.

Okay, found it, that's Uncle Mel and Aunt Judy in the middle. I'm on the far right in my controversial brown cargo pants.

See the blonde in black, second from the left? That is my sister who lives in the Phoenix zone. This morning my phone rang, I saw it was her. I knew it was not good news. I flipped open the phone and asked, "What's happened?" "Uncle Mel has died," she said. My mom and dad had given my sister the call the siblings job.

Uncle Mel, April of 2006, in Mount Vernon

Texas Dutch Con Man Baron Bastrop's Good Deeds

I think that may be my Great Great Great Great Great Uncle Philip Hendrik Nering Bögel waving a weapon in the painting.

Uncle Bögel was born in Paramaribo, Dutch Guiana in 1759. Thus he was Dutch. Uncle Bögel moved back to Holland in 1764, eventually getting married, having 5 kids and working as a tax collector.

In 1793 Uncle Bögel was accused of embezzling tax money. So, he left his family and fled to the New World. Eventually ending up in the part of America where, to this day, little things like stealing tax money, or being on the take to gas drilling companies, is no big deal, that being the part of the New World that eventually became Texas.

I am half Dutch. My immediate ancestors came to America from Holland in the late 1880s. It took awhile for my Great Great Grandpa to find their final location.

At one point I believe my Great Grandpa, John, was sent to Texas, to check out a Dutch/German community in the area that is now Denton. He reported back that this would not do. Then the little family heard of an area in the far Northwest of America that had a lot of Dutch settlers. So, my Great Grandpa hopped a train and made it to what is now a town called Lynden, in Whatcom County, in what was then Washington Territory. He stayed a Summer, then returned to his mom and dad and sister in the Midwest, with a knapsack full of apples and pieces of thick bark, tales of tall trees, rich farmland, berries growing wild. The family made their final move.

Lynden, in Whatcom County, to this day, remains a Dutch town.

Anyway, back to Uncle Bögel. He gets to the land that eventually became Texas. He'd renamed himself Felipe Enrique Neri, Baron de Bastrop, a Dutch nobleman. The locals bought his act. Just like the contemporary Texas locals have bought mine as Durango Jones, Baron de Fort Worth, a Dutch nobleman.

When the "Baron" showed up, in 1805, he was given a colony grant and was later appointed the chief judicial official of San Antonio. Baron Bastrop worked with Stephen F. Austin in negotiating with the Mexicans and was key in opening the port of Galveston.

Baron Bastrop was very important and influential in the colonization of Texas. There are some who believe that without him Texas might never have seen the influx of Anglo settlers who eventually took control of Texas from Mexico.

To honor Baron Bastrop, the towns of Bastrop, Texas and Bastrop, Lousisiana and Bastrop County, Texas are named after him.

When Baron Bastrop died there was not enough money for a funeral. Fellow members of the legislature paid to bury him. Baron Bastrop never saw the wife and kids he left behind in Holland, again, but in his will, he left his land to them.

There you go, that is your Texas history lesson for the day.

The Sun Is Up And Lighting Up A Very White North Texas While Snow Continues To Fall

Dawn has now broken in North Texas, with the sun trying to light up the place. Snow continues to blanket the ground.

The current view from my patio door window is now quite white. The flashing camera makes the snowflakes look like twinkling stars.

When I lived in Washington, in the Banana Belt Skagit Valley, where it rarely snowed, I developed an extreme fondness for the rare snow days. Mostly, I suspect, because, if enough snow fell, school might get canceled. That always seemed like a Christmas present.

Sadly, the best snowstorm of my school in Washington years occurred during Christmas vacation. If I remember right, that snowstorm occurred when I was a Junior in high school. That snow storm is the only one I ever remember hitting the Skagit Valley that resulted in snowdrifts.

40 miles north of the Skagit Valley, in Lynden, where my grandma's lived, that area of Washington is in a completely different climate zone from the Skagit Valley. Cold Arctic air comes down the Fraser River Valley and heads out to sea, blocked, usually, from hitting the Skagit Valley, due to a conveniently placed mountain range, but that cold air hits Lynden and Whatcom County, bringing a lot of snow, as in several feet, at times, and heavy winds that cause big snowdrifts, drifts so tall they reach the roofs of barns.

North Texas has no mountains, nothing to cause weather systems to affect one area differently than another, as far as I know. So, I suspect all of North Texas is being quite bright white today. I've not heard, yet, if schools are closing.

I may drag out my cross country skis today, if the white stuff keeps accumulating. Currently, at almost 8am, we are still below freezing and the snow keeps falling.

Finding Lynden Washington & My Real Dutch Name

This morning I was looking through the files that are published in my durangotexas.com domain. I came upon one I'd forgotten about.

Way back in 2002 I somehow found myself, here in Texas, causing a family reunion to happen 2,200 miles away, in Lynden, Washington. If I remember right the thing started with me being a smart ass to my cousin, sort of calling her bluff.

From that point on it sort of spun out of control, resulting in July of 2002, with relatives, from all over the country, making their way to Lynden for the biggest family reunion my relatives have ever had.

Because relatives were coming from all over, I was getting asked questions about things, like motels and RV parks, I decided to make a few webpages about Lynden. With a lot of Lynden links. Those webpages were made in the now antique framed website method.

So, this morning I re-did the Lynden pages and linked them to my other webpages about Washington. I thought this would be a daunting task. But it only took about a half hour. I never estimate these type things, time-wise, correctly.

Lynden is about 5 miles south of the Canadian border. The population of the town consists mostly of Dutch descendants. My ancestors came over from Holland in the 1890s. They kept moving evermore westward, looking for a decent place to live. Eventually they heard from other Dutch people about the state of Washington, where, on the west side of some tall mountains, it reminded them of Holland.

My great grandpa was sent to scout out this place. When he returned to his mom and dad, that being my great great grandpa and ma, he convinced them they had to move to Lynden.

Which is how it came to be, when I was growing up, that we went up to Lynden pretty much every weekend, to visit my grandmas and aunts and uncles and cousins. My Dutch grandma died in 1994. My un-Dutch grandma died in 2004. I have not been to Lynden since 2002.

I remember my Dutch great grandma. Tillie. She was married to my great grandpa, John, the one who scouted out Lynden. He died before I was born. If I remember right, great grandma Tillie died in 1962. She had a Dutch accent and taught us some Dutch words. Like brookies. That is Dutch for undies. My great grandma was a masterful knitter, I remember getting sweaters, mittens, hats. I can still remember how happy she would be to see us kids, and how happy we'd be to see our great grandma.

The Dutch side of my family had a naming tradition that had the eldest boy of the eldest boy named either John or Cornelius. That's the American version. The Dutch version is Jan or Cornelis. My great grandpa, John, was the oldest son of an oldest son named Cornelis. Great grandpa John's oldest son, my grandpa, was named Cornelius, nicknamed Neil. My grandpa's oldest son is my dad, named John, nicknamed Jack. I am my dad's oldest son. My mom and dad caused a family scandal when they did not name me Cornelius. They thought that was a horrible name to saddle a kid with. When I learned what I was supposed to be named I told my mom and dad I would have liked that name. It fits well with my last name. Much better than the plain name they came up with.

By the way, that is Lynden's famous windmill, on Front Street, in the picture at the top.