Page 10 of Who We Think We Are

K ate stays on the houseboat the next morning. She sits at the small table, sips her tea, looks out over the water, and then opens her laptop and starts researching Hitler Youth in the Netherlands and Nazi collaboration during the war, going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole all day.

The CAbr is housed at the National Archives in The Hague. I’m going to go there tomorrow! Kate reserves a hotel within walking distance of the archives and texts Tamara to let her know she’s going to The Hague. She packs her bag and catches the train first thing in the morning.

Kate enters the building, which is not much more interesting on the inside than the outside, aside from the bright orange couches and coffee tables, and walks up to the front desk, full of energy and hope.

“I’d like to access the files for my grandmother, Katrina Van Dijk; her cousin, Jaap De Groot; her mother, Jozefien De Groot; and her father, Henricus Van Dijk, please.”

“Do you have an appointment, miss?” asks the clerk at the desk.

“No.”

“You must have an appointment. You must request the file, have the date and place of birth, and have the death certificate or written permission of the person whose file you want to read. Once the record is confirmed to exist, you may make an appointment.”

“Can an exception be made?” Kate looks at the clerk’s name tag. “I came all the way from Canada, Trientje.”

“Nay. No exceptions. We have millions of records, several for most of the 425,000 people who have files here. It takes time to access a file if, in fact, one exists.”

“Can someone help me do the required paperwork? I don’t speak Dutch.”

“We don’t have anybody here, but here is a list of translators who can help you.” Trientje slides a piece of paper over to Kate, who can tell when she’s hit a beige brick wall.

Calm down, Kate. This is not an emergency. Is this the hill you want to die on? “Thanks so much, Trientje. I will contact a translator and request the files.”

Kate picks up her suitcase at the train station and walks the ten minutes to her hotel.

The Hague is another beautiful Dutch city full of trees, canals, and cobblestone streets.

She marvels once again at how the past and the present stand side by side.

The an ancient church framed by glass high-rises.

When Kate arrives at her hotel, she says to the front desk clerk, “I’m Kate Hathaway. I want to check in early if possible.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hathaway, your room has been cleaned and it’s ready.

Good, something is finally going my way !

Kate’s room is small but nice. It has a kitchenette, desk, big bathtub, and a welcoming bed with a fluffy duvet and cushions, all white, like hers at home. Once she’s settled in, Kate calls Mikelia for help in translating.

Mikelia says, “Sorry, my friend. I speak English, Danish, and German. Dutch is a whole other story.”

“OK, thanks for nothing. I’ll talk to you later.” Kate laughs as she hangs up.

“Alright, let’s see who on this list is going to help me today!” Kate starts going down the list and calling people. On the fifth or sixth try, a man answers the phone and says something in Dutch.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you speak English?”

“Yes, of course,” says the male voice. “I am Cobus Janssen. How may I help you?”

Kate tells him about the experience she had at the archives. “Can you help me?”

“Yes, of course,” Cobus says again.

Two yes of courses! We’re getting off to a good start .

“I need someone to help me get the information I need and request my relatives’ files.”

“I have done a good deal of research work for clients at the CAbr.”

“You can help me with translating?”

“Yes, of course,” says Cobus for the third time. “I am a historian, so I can also help you analyze the files, and I will write summaries for you on the information contained in the records.”

“That’s great! So much more than I hoped for!”

They determine that Kate knows very little other than Oma’s full name, date and place of birth, and parents’ and cousin’s names.

“You need to get your Oma’s death certificate since she died in Canada. I will find the rest. Let’s talk again in a few hours. Look at my website to see the work I have done for other clients and to get my email address.”

Kate opens her laptop and goes to his website. Cobus Janssen, PhD, is a historian who has written papers and books and done genealogy work for his clients, mostly North Americans trying to learn about their Dutch ancestors. His specialty is the Netherlands in World War II and the Holocaust.

Excellent! Kate sends an email to Grandad asking that he send her a copy of Oma’s death certificate.

After that, Kate walks to a supermarket to get some groceries. Oma would love it here! Such good bread, so many types of cheese and sausage, and croquettes. I better get some salad and fruit, too!

Kate is having lunch in her room when she gets an email from Grandad with a PDF of Oma’s death certificate.

When Kate looks at the official document, another tidal wave of grief washes over her.

She realizes that she’s been approaching this like a research project.

But this is Oma and her life! With her heart in her throat, Kate picks up her phone to call Grandad.

It’s only 6:00 a.m. in Vancouver, but she figures he must be up since he sent the email .

“Good morning, Grandad. How are you doing?”

“My wife of seventy years died, Katie. How do you think I’m doing?”

“I’m sorry, Grandad, I …”

Grandad cuts her off. “No, I’m sorry, Katie. I can’t sleep, so I’m feeling testy. I shouldn’t snap at you. How are things going there?”

“I miss you, and I miss Oma. Oom Cor and Oom Dirk wouldn’t tell the truth. I obeyed you and didn’t push them. But I found another way to find out more.” Kate tells Grandad about the archives and why she needs Oma’s death certificate.

“You’re in luck, Katie, if we can call ourselves lucky under the circumstances. Oma’s official death certificate arrived yesterday. I forwarded the email to you.”

“I got it, thanks, Grandad. I have a question I hadn’t thought of before. Were Oom Cor and Oom Dirk in the Hitler Youth, too?”

“No, they weren’t. Only Oma and Jaap.”

“That’s another question I have. Jaap was Oma’s cousin. Why did he live with Oma’s family?”

“You never heard that story? It was the most tragic thing. His mother was Oma’s mother’s sister.

They lived in Rotterdam. Jaap’s father was very strict; if the kids didn’t like something their mama made, they had to eat it anyway.

Well, one day, Jaap’s mama was making sauerkraut for lunch, and she knew Jaap hated it.

So, she warned him and told him to go to a friend’s house for lunch.

Well, that was the day the Germans invaded Holland, and they bombed the hell out of Rotterdam.

The family’s home was destroyed, and they all died.

Only Jaap survived because he wasn’t there.

After that, he went to live with Oma’s family. ”

“Oh my God, Grandad. That is unbelievable. Poor Jaap.”

“The war was a violent and horrible thing, Katie, full of stories like Jaap’s. Oma and I didn’t want to talk to you about such things when you were young.

“Well, I’ve got to go to breakfast and have my oatmeal and a soft-boiled egg. Let me know how things go.”

Kate forwards Oma’s death certificate to Dr. Janssen, and shortly after he receives it, he gives her a call.

“Hello, Dr. Janssen.”

“I think we’re all set, Mrs. Hathaway. Your grandmother’s parents were born in 1895 and 1896, so we don’t need their death certificates.

They would be 120 years old if they were alive.

As for Jaap De Groot, I was able to get his death certificate.

Let’s go through the request for records together now. ”

Once they’re done, Dr. Janssen says, “That’s all we can do for now. You will receive an email from the CAbr once they confirm whether there are records. Let me know then, and we can make an appointment.”

“Great. Thank you so much for your help, Dr. Janssen.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Hathaway. We will talk soon.”

“Please, call me Kate. I hate being called Mrs. Hathaway. I’m not married to a Hathaway; I am a Hathaway. So, if I used any title, it would be Ms., but it is a lot simpler to call me Kate.”

“Alright, Kate. And please call me Cobus.”

Kate tosses out her half-eaten lunch and pulls together some dinner from the groceries she got earlier. Her phone buzzes. It’s Jake.

“Hi, Jake. What’s up?”

“Hi, Kate. I was worried about Kelli, so I came to Toronto. She just didn’t sound like herself. She’s planning on dropping out of school.”

“Oh wow. Did something bad happen? What’s going on? Is she alright? What a stupid question. Of course, she’s not. Let me talk to her.”

“I can’t right now,” says Jake. “She’s in with a counselor at the registrar’s office. Nothing bad happened, per se. She just doesn’t feel like she’s ready to be here at this huge university.”

“But why is she seeing a counselor?”

“She’s a counselor and advisor, helping Kelli sort out what she wants to do.”

“To hell with that. I will help her sort out what she’ll do.”

“ We will help her sort out what she wants to do, Kate, not just you. We’ve talked about this possibility.”

Kelli had started school at five and skipped a grade, and when she still wasn’t challenged enough, Kate and Jake put her in a small all-girls private school where she could work at her own pace.

Kelli was in the Advanced Placement program, so she took first-year university courses in high school.

She graduated at sixteen and got an academic scholarship to the largest university in Canada, where she is mainly taking second-year courses.

“The age gap is catching up with her, Kate.”

“OK, you’re right. We will help Kelli sort this out. I’ll book a flight and be there tomorrow.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that. I’m thinking about renting a house in the country so we can get away and have these conversations with Kelli when we’re calm and relaxed.”

“That’s a great idea, Jake. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not listening to me when I called you a helicopter parent and for being such a good dad.”

“Aw shucks, ma’am,” Jake chuckles. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”