Immigrating to Canada, My Mom's Story
Immigrating to Canada
Our Journey: Netherlands to Canada in 1953 By Susanne van Hout
In 1953, after dating for some time, Tom and I wanted to marry. Living in Eindhoven, in the southern province of North Brabant, the simple thought of marriage was complicated by factors such as poor economy and scarcity of available housing. After giving it careful consideration, and filled with the hope of two young adults in love, we were determined to move to Canada.
Having spent most of our growing years surrounded by the ravages of war, the liberation of the Netherlands was fresh in our minds. Canadian soldiers had heroic status in our minds. My own mother and father billeted 5 soldiers at our home, and we came to know Canadians as incredibly nice and imagined the homeland they described to us as tremendous. Tom also had similar positive experiences with Canadian soldiers at his home and was easily convinced that Canada was the land of dreams. We determined that Canada was the place for our future family and formulated our plans for emigration.
Immigrating to Canada
Picture: Getting ready to move to Canada
Emigration is not a simple process, however, and we soon learned about jumping through hoops to satisfy various bureaucratic government agencies. We married on the 2nd of June and left for Canada on June 6, 1953.
Picture: The ship that brought us to Pier 21 in Halifax
I guess we could be described as two naive newlyweds on the S.S. Waterman, the ship that took us from the harbor in Rotterdam to the dreamland across the Atlantic Ocean. The departure was bittersweet. On the one hand, we were young newlyweds in
love with each other and in love with our dream, but as we pushed away and family and friends disappeared into the horizon, I could not help the trepidation I felt of never seeing them again. With each wave of my hand, the gravity of the decision washed over me, and a wave of sadness flooded into the early days of our marriage. I remember crying and crying as the ship rocked over the waves of the Atlantic.
The S.S. Waterman was a warship that carried troops in World War II. It was not meant for comfort and certainly was not meant for honeymoons. Tom was placed in a small cabin that he was expected to share with another male passenger, and I was to share a room with a female. Much to our delight, our respective roommates were also married to each other, and my female roommate asked if I would be okay with a quiet switch of partners, allowing us to be together with our mates. Naturally, I did not object.
Immigrating to Canada
Our cabin was located centrally on the ship, so we had a smoother voyage than the passengers situated near the front or back, however, we still endured a significant storm at sea and I remember being very afraid.
On the ship, was ship Chaplain, Father Huybers who invited us to his cabin for a visit and a drink. Tom’s brother Wim, also a Catholic priest, left a bouquet of sweet williams with Father Huybers for us and we offered that Father Huybers use them for his alter for mass in the morning. Unfortunately, Wim was denied an opportunity to see us on the ship and leave them in person and we felt sad about that, but were grateful for the wonderful gesture. During the visit with Father Huybers, we watched the flower stems bending to touch the table and springing back up with each motion as the waves rocked the ship. As we became mesmerized by this odd visual, nausea took us over and we sprinted for the deck and the rails.
Eating for the remainder of the voyage was a challenge and we were thankful for the $5 Father Huybers offered us so that we could purchase some baby cookies to sustain us. The $40 dollars that we received from the Dutch government could not be touched until after we cleared customs in Canada, so was not much good to us on the ship. The rest of the voyage had us spend most of our time outside, both during the day and late into the evening.
The ship finally docked in Halifax’s harbor, Pier 21. It was late so we missed our pre- planned train connection to Amherst, Nova Scotia. Our sponsor was Mr. Joe Girouard, and he was to meet us there.
Canadian food was different than what we were used to but we were determined to adjust to all things Canadian. We resolved that we were going to fit in. At minimum, that meant trying all things new. We chose to immigrate, chose to make our lives here, and we were not going to let our own inhibitions get in the way of our Canadian experience.
Father Huybers was Yukon bound. We saw him again and he invited us to come and live in the Yukon with him. We declined his offer as we had a responsibility to the people who were expecting us in Amherst, however, over the years that followed we often wonder how our life would have turned out if we had accepted this offer. Many years later we had the opportunity to visit the Yukon and remembered the important life decision of that day.
Immigrating to Canada
Our first sleep after our arrival in Halifax was at an old prison in the habour. I remember steel bars on the door and windows, and two simple single beds with wheels. We had fun that night rolling about the room on the beds.
On June 17, 1953, we went to the train station and made the trip to Amherst, Nova Scotia. Joe Girouard was waiting for us at the station along with a family friend of ours who had previously immigrated to Canada. That brought comfort to my heart and made me feel relief in regard to lack of ability to converse in English. On that day we met Joe’s wife and baby, and although we did not get to sleep until very late, Tom was called in to work with Joe at the local bakery. The small bakery was owned by Mr. Atlee Chapman and Joe was the manager. While Tom worked, I was thoroughly enjoying my visits with Joe’s wife, also a Dutch immigrant.
In the weeks that followed, Joe and his wife moved, and Tom managed the bakery which meant that he was left alone to do all of the hard work of getting the products out to sell. During that time, we met new friends, Jopie and Piet Vriend, who were engaged to be married. They were kind and helpful and so much fun to be with. I recall with a special fondness our time with these special friends. Even though for most of our lives that followed, we lived miles apart, we were able to stay in touch and remain friends.
Our meals in those days often consisted of eating the egg yolks after separating out the whites for baking. This made for a good supper, but spelled disaster for the waist line.
On April 13, 1954, Dutch immigrants were invited to a social evening at Acadia Street School, and the men staged a coin toss competition that Tom won. The prize was a camera and Tom was thrilled. He had been wanting a camera so that we could send photographs to our families in the Netherlands.
After leaving the home of our sponsors, we moved into a house across from the church, which was a funeral home. Mr. and Mrs. Furlong owned the house as well as the funeral business. The rooms we rented were upstairs and our kitchen and washroom was shared with several other people. Not the living arrangement most people would enjoy, but we managed to make the best of it. When we later moved into some rented rooms in the old English home of the Baker family, we appreciated our own entrance that could be reached by an outside set of stairs. Finally, we enjoyed the gift of some independence, even though we appreciated the kindness and generosity of Mr. and Ms. Baker. I felt so spoiled each time Mr. Baker would bring home with him the items I needed from town, or when Ms. Baker would have breakfast ready for us. Tom needed
Immigrating to Canada
a meal prior to all of his hard work at the bakery and I was pregnant, so nutrition was also crucial for me.
The pregnancy made me miss my family even more. On August 10, 1954, our first child was born and we named him Tom, after his father. When I was in the hospital giving birth, our good friends, Piet and Jopie married, and I missed the wedding. I felt bad to miss it but encouraged Tom to attend the celebration on his own. Our baby was healthy and beautiful and Jopie’s mother, who was visiting from the Netherlands, came by to help me when I came home from the hospital. I felt weak and sad to be away from my own mother, but it felt good to have a Dutch mom, even if it was my friend’s mom willing to attend to my needs.
Picture: Tom Jr., our first baby
Our lives were rolling along nicely with Tom working at the bakery and me attending to my new baby, until Tom hired a girl to help in the bakery. She was a lovely girl, very sociable and truly a hard worker. She was also black. Tom, who firmly believed in the worth of all human beings, did not anticipate the fall-out in the community. The bakery customers, who were typically white, began to stay away. A new customer base from the black community
began to emerge, and soon most of the pastries left the bakery in black hands. One day, Mr. Atlee requested a meeting with Tom and
directed him to terminate the employment of the black girl. Tom refused and stated, “I will not fire her. I have no reason to. She is a good hard worker and firing her would not be right in my view.” Mr. Atlee was not persuaded and would not back down from his directive. Tom tendered his own resignation and abandoned Mr. Atlee to do his own baking.
That was quite a shock to us as human beings. We could not wrap our heads around the cruelty of what just occurred. In our view, all beings were to be valued and appreciated, and how could something so simple as the color of a person’s skin be a determining factor in who would or would not be allowed to earn a living. We had never heard of such differences and were frightened by this blatant racism. How could such a
Immigrating to Canada
wonderful hardworking girl be so marginalized and be treated in such a cruel fashion? After church the following Sunday, we met at Piet’s parent’s home for coffee and Mr. Vriend informed us that black people were not welcome in many places in Canada. We felt very sad and upset about that. The Canadian soldiers who fought so hard to fight for the freedom of our nation in Europe, did not fight for the freedom of some of their own citizens. It did not seem right, and burned a hole in our hearts.
There were many Dutch people in Amherst, and they built a network of friendships. One day, we received a letter informing us that Tom’s old neighbours in the Netherlands were moving to Canada. This was a big family and one of the sons had been a childhood friend of Tom’s. They would also be arriving at the Halifax harbour at Pier 21. My husband was determined to meet with them prior to their train travel to Ontario. After his visit with them, Tom became excited over the possibility of following them to Ontario. Under the circumstances of the resignation, we were now struggling financially more than ever, and worried about our lack of medical insurance and the worry of meeting our financial obligations in terms of paying off prior hospital bills.
In March of 1955, we made the move to Kitchener. This was the same area where Tom’s childhood friend settled, and after a short stay with them, we found a little house to move in to. We also met another Dutch family, the Vos family, and we visited back and forth often with the added bonus of a playmate for Tom.
On November 11, 1955, our daughter Martha was born. At that time, Tom worked for Weston’s Bakery. We found that the cost of living in Ontario was much higher than Nova Scotia, so the increase in wages was soon eaten up by the high cost of rent and food. Things seemed to regress not only financially, but in terms of our friendships as well. The people in Ontario did not seem so open and friendly as the friends we came to love in Nova Scotia, and I missed them dearly. One bright light that presented was a wonderful old couple that lived next door. Mr. and Mrs. Reidel became known to my children as Opa and Oma. They were kind and genuine and I was thankful to know them.
In 1957, our lives took another huge turn. Martha became ill and we were worried sick. We also did not have the financial ability to give her the medical care that she required. For the first time, I could not take it anymore. I needed my family. Now pregnant with my third child, I packed up my two children and left for home. Tom remained in Canada, hopeful to work hard and save money for our return and I traveled on a ship called the Ryndam crossing that big ocean once again. I longed to see my parents, and when I
Immigrating to Canada
finally saw my mother, it broke my heart. She had been extremely ill and I was shocked at how she presented. She looked frail and weak and I felt the guilt of not being around to help her.
Tom’s sister, Annie, went with me to search out a medical specialist for my little girl Martha, and the doctor informed me that she was only days away from potential death. He discovered that the illness was a result of a blood transfusion I had received in Canada during Tom’s birth, and the blood administered had been the wrong blood type. The extended process of healing Martha began under his medical supervision and when I learned that it would be a long time before Martha would be well, I wrote a letter to Tom that I would need to stay in the Netherlands much longer than anticipated. Tom replied with a letter of his own saying that he would rather be with us in the Netherlands than be alone in Canada awaiting our return. I did not like that decision because I felt that I would go back to Canada as soon as my little girl was better, but I understood why he was anxious to be with his children.
I also felt empathy for the fact that he was working so hard to try and get ahead. He worked tediously against the odds of illness with no medical insurance, having to send all of the money to support the bills of the specialist as well as the other bills. It seemed as if he might as well come back to the Netherlands as despite the valiant efforts, we seemed to be regressing rather than progressing as a family.
When Tom arrived back in the Netherlands, he accepted a job as train conductor and also helped his brother in his antenna business. Martha recovered. Then Niel, our second son was born followed soon after by a second daughter, Josepha. Soon Tom began to dream about returning to Canada. I had anticipated this and that is why I wanted him to stick it out in Canada in the first place. As he began to press on this issue, I hesitated to give my answer. Our fifth and final son was born in 1962, Theo. Tom had been researching a move to Alberta, and after giving the matter a lot of consideration, I finally relented. It was decided that we would move to Edmonton, Alberta with our five children in tow.
The process of emigration, involving things like medical check ups for all of the children, began in earnest. We packed our belongings into a crate, and Tom left the Netherlands on April 5, 1967. I later followed with all of the children in May. This time we traveled on an airplane and landed in Montreal. The rest of the journey was to be by train. The train left the station at 11:00 p.m. The children were extremely tired and because our taxi driver lost his way in Montreal on the way to the train station, we missed the train where
Immigrating to Canada
we had booked sleeping compartments, and were forced to take the next train with no such accommodations. I could not imagine how I was going to survive the next few days without a place for my children to sleep.
The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me, and on that particular day, two wonderful women offered their sleeping compartment for the children. I put the children on the bed and they slept while I sat close by so that I could keep an eye on them. After a time, when they awoke, they discovered a play area on the train. I was tired and felt grateful that they went off to play. I snoozed, comforted in the fact that the children were busy playing and were confined inside of a train, so what could possibly happen? Well, they could disconnect certain train cars in the middle of a desolate Saskatchewan prairie, and forget to check if the cars contain any passengers. That is in fact exactly what occurred. I awoke, and soon became frantic when I could not locate the children. I asked the people around me where the play area was. They had no idea. I began to panic and scurried about trying to locate the conductor. When I found him and informed him that I could not find my children who were playing in the play car, he looked stunned and immediately pulled the emergency brake. The train came to a complete stop.
Several hours had passed since the disconnection of the train cars. Plans to retrieve the children were set in motion but it was now dark and I continued to be extremely frantic. I did not want to imagine the fear of my children abandoned in a completely dark train car in the middle of a prairie field in Saskatchewan with not a building in sight. What would they do? Would they stay in the car or would they try to leave and go for help?
They were eventually rescued and brought to my side and as you can well imagine, did not leave my side for the rest of the train trip to Edmonton. I heard the children tell the story of how they comforted each other, how the older ones reassured the younger ones and I remember feeling so proud of my little heroes that day. I remain disappointed to this day that Canadian National has never apologized to me or to the children for this extremely disturbing oversight.
When we arrived in Edmonton, the children were extremely happy to see their father. Tom and I were relieved that our family was together once again and so grateful that the long journey was over.
The first days in Canada, the second time around, were a challenge, but we made the best of it. Tom had prepared for our arrival by purchasing air mattresses and sleeping bags for the children and lining up orange crates for us to sit on. It would be several
Immigrating to Canada
months before the crate we packed in the Netherlands made its way to Canada. Tom once again had a job at a bakery and worked many many hours. I settled with the children and registered them in school. I also applied for jobs. I was able to sew jeans for GWG and later worked at Alberta Hospital.
Picture: Our 5 children experiencing the first winter in Canada in 1967
In 1971, Tom realized his dream, of owning his own bakery. Not only did Tom work hard when he bought the bakery to make it a successful business, but each of the children also contributed a great deal.
Today the children are all grown up with families of their own. Each of them are successful in their own right. Part of their success is their strong work ethic and determination. I think being an immigrant family, with all of the hardships and trials that entails, encourages these powerful traits to develop.
Immigrating to Canada
Most of the children have left the bakery now and although each of them is a fully capable baker, their interests were elsewhere. Tom, the oldest, is an electrician and truly lights up a room with his wonderful smile and his big open heart. When Tom gives you a hug, you know it is genuine. Martha became a nurse, which is truly fitting, as caring for other people has been her nature since birth. She is gentle and kind and extremely giving of herself for others. Niel is a mechanic, a heavy duty mechanic and has had success in each and every area of interest he has ever pursued. Interests include flying and carpentry. He is a pilot and has built several homes. Niel has a quiet intelligence and like Tom, is soft and loving. Joyce (Josepha) is a teacher and was able to work her way up to being a principal and is now on the executive staff of The Alberta Teachers’ Association. Joyce loves photography and is also an accomplished artist. She is also a kind and loving mother and aunt. The youngest is Ted (Theo). Ted, like the other boys followed in his father’s footsteps. The difference is that eventually the other boys pursued different career paths, where Ted stayed with the bakery and eventually took over the family business. Ted, the youngest, is the child that still sees the humor in everything. His laugh is infectious and that is why everyone wants to be around him.
By immigrating to Canada, my children learned to depend on each other, especially in those initial, very difficult years when we were extremely poor and did not know the language really well. To this day, they remain extremely close. In 2003, Thomas van Hout Sr., my husband, passed away. He is extremely missed by all of the children and grandchildren, and by me. Tom’s great humour, his love of family, his perseverance and work ethic, and all of his other positive qualities live on through the children. I see him in them. I am extremely proud of who my children have become. Canada is their home. Today, the Netherlands is a remote connection. Although we still keep in touch and love our family in the Netherlands, my children could never imagine themselves as Dutch citizens. They are Canadian with Canadian children. The fact alone makes all of those hard days in the beginning worthwhile.
Our Journey: Netherlands to Canada in 1953 By Susanne van Hout
In 1953, after dating for some time, Tom and I wanted to marry. Living in Eindhoven, in the southern province of North Brabant, the simple thought of marriage was complicated by factors such as poor economy and scarcity of available housing. After giving it careful consideration, and filled with the hope of two young adults in love, we were determined to move to Canada.
Having spent most of our growing years surrounded by the ravages of war, the liberation of the Netherlands was fresh in our minds. Canadian soldiers had heroic status in our minds. My own mother and father billeted 5 soldiers at our home, and we came to know Canadians as incredibly nice and imagined the homeland they described to us as tremendous. Tom also had similar positive experiences with Canadian soldiers at his home and was easily convinced that Canada was the land of dreams. We determined that Canada was the place for our future family and formulated our plans for emigration.
Immigrating to Canada
Picture: Getting ready to move to Canada
Emigration is not a simple process, however, and we soon learned about jumping through hoops to satisfy various bureaucratic government agencies. We married on the 2nd of June and left for Canada on June 6, 1953.
Picture: The ship that brought us to Pier 21 in Halifax
I guess we could be described as two naive newlyweds on the S.S. Waterman, the ship that took us from the harbor in Rotterdam to the dreamland across the Atlantic Ocean. The departure was bittersweet. On the one hand, we were young newlyweds in
love with each other and in love with our dream, but as we pushed away and family and friends disappeared into the horizon, I could not help the trepidation I felt of never seeing them again. With each wave of my hand, the gravity of the decision washed over me, and a wave of sadness flooded into the early days of our marriage. I remember crying and crying as the ship rocked over the waves of the Atlantic.
The S.S. Waterman was a warship that carried troops in World War II. It was not meant for comfort and certainly was not meant for honeymoons. Tom was placed in a small cabin that he was expected to share with another male passenger, and I was to share a room with a female. Much to our delight, our respective roommates were also married to each other, and my female roommate asked if I would be okay with a quiet switch of partners, allowing us to be together with our mates. Naturally, I did not object.
Immigrating to Canada
Our cabin was located centrally on the ship, so we had a smoother voyage than the passengers situated near the front or back, however, we still endured a significant storm at sea and I remember being very afraid.
On the ship, was ship Chaplain, Father Huybers who invited us to his cabin for a visit and a drink. Tom’s brother Wim, also a Catholic priest, left a bouquet of sweet williams with Father Huybers for us and we offered that Father Huybers use them for his alter for mass in the morning. Unfortunately, Wim was denied an opportunity to see us on the ship and leave them in person and we felt sad about that, but were grateful for the wonderful gesture. During the visit with Father Huybers, we watched the flower stems bending to touch the table and springing back up with each motion as the waves rocked the ship. As we became mesmerized by this odd visual, nausea took us over and we sprinted for the deck and the rails.
Eating for the remainder of the voyage was a challenge and we were thankful for the $5 Father Huybers offered us so that we could purchase some baby cookies to sustain us. The $40 dollars that we received from the Dutch government could not be touched until after we cleared customs in Canada, so was not much good to us on the ship. The rest of the voyage had us spend most of our time outside, both during the day and late into the evening.
The ship finally docked in Halifax’s harbor, Pier 21. It was late so we missed our pre- planned train connection to Amherst, Nova Scotia. Our sponsor was Mr. Joe Girouard, and he was to meet us there.
Canadian food was different than what we were used to but we were determined to adjust to all things Canadian. We resolved that we were going to fit in. At minimum, that meant trying all things new. We chose to immigrate, chose to make our lives here, and we were not going to let our own inhibitions get in the way of our Canadian experience.
Father Huybers was Yukon bound. We saw him again and he invited us to come and live in the Yukon with him. We declined his offer as we had a responsibility to the people who were expecting us in Amherst, however, over the years that followed we often wonder how our life would have turned out if we had accepted this offer. Many years later we had the opportunity to visit the Yukon and remembered the important life decision of that day.
Immigrating to Canada
Our first sleep after our arrival in Halifax was at an old prison in the habour. I remember steel bars on the door and windows, and two simple single beds with wheels. We had fun that night rolling about the room on the beds.
On June 17, 1953, we went to the train station and made the trip to Amherst, Nova Scotia. Joe Girouard was waiting for us at the station along with a family friend of ours who had previously immigrated to Canada. That brought comfort to my heart and made me feel relief in regard to lack of ability to converse in English. On that day we met Joe’s wife and baby, and although we did not get to sleep until very late, Tom was called in to work with Joe at the local bakery. The small bakery was owned by Mr. Atlee Chapman and Joe was the manager. While Tom worked, I was thoroughly enjoying my visits with Joe’s wife, also a Dutch immigrant.
In the weeks that followed, Joe and his wife moved, and Tom managed the bakery which meant that he was left alone to do all of the hard work of getting the products out to sell. During that time, we met new friends, Jopie and Piet Vriend, who were engaged to be married. They were kind and helpful and so much fun to be with. I recall with a special fondness our time with these special friends. Even though for most of our lives that followed, we lived miles apart, we were able to stay in touch and remain friends.
Our meals in those days often consisted of eating the egg yolks after separating out the whites for baking. This made for a good supper, but spelled disaster for the waist line.
On April 13, 1954, Dutch immigrants were invited to a social evening at Acadia Street School, and the men staged a coin toss competition that Tom won. The prize was a camera and Tom was thrilled. He had been wanting a camera so that we could send photographs to our families in the Netherlands.
After leaving the home of our sponsors, we moved into a house across from the church, which was a funeral home. Mr. and Mrs. Furlong owned the house as well as the funeral business. The rooms we rented were upstairs and our kitchen and washroom was shared with several other people. Not the living arrangement most people would enjoy, but we managed to make the best of it. When we later moved into some rented rooms in the old English home of the Baker family, we appreciated our own entrance that could be reached by an outside set of stairs. Finally, we enjoyed the gift of some independence, even though we appreciated the kindness and generosity of Mr. and Ms. Baker. I felt so spoiled each time Mr. Baker would bring home with him the items I needed from town, or when Ms. Baker would have breakfast ready for us. Tom needed
Immigrating to Canada
a meal prior to all of his hard work at the bakery and I was pregnant, so nutrition was also crucial for me.
The pregnancy made me miss my family even more. On August 10, 1954, our first child was born and we named him Tom, after his father. When I was in the hospital giving birth, our good friends, Piet and Jopie married, and I missed the wedding. I felt bad to miss it but encouraged Tom to attend the celebration on his own. Our baby was healthy and beautiful and Jopie’s mother, who was visiting from the Netherlands, came by to help me when I came home from the hospital. I felt weak and sad to be away from my own mother, but it felt good to have a Dutch mom, even if it was my friend’s mom willing to attend to my needs.
Picture: Tom Jr., our first baby
Our lives were rolling along nicely with Tom working at the bakery and me attending to my new baby, until Tom hired a girl to help in the bakery. She was a lovely girl, very sociable and truly a hard worker. She was also black. Tom, who firmly believed in the worth of all human beings, did not anticipate the fall-out in the community. The bakery customers, who were typically white, began to stay away. A new customer base from the black community
began to emerge, and soon most of the pastries left the bakery in black hands. One day, Mr. Atlee requested a meeting with Tom and
directed him to terminate the employment of the black girl. Tom refused and stated, “I will not fire her. I have no reason to. She is a good hard worker and firing her would not be right in my view.” Mr. Atlee was not persuaded and would not back down from his directive. Tom tendered his own resignation and abandoned Mr. Atlee to do his own baking.
That was quite a shock to us as human beings. We could not wrap our heads around the cruelty of what just occurred. In our view, all beings were to be valued and appreciated, and how could something so simple as the color of a person’s skin be a determining factor in who would or would not be allowed to earn a living. We had never heard of such differences and were frightened by this blatant racism. How could such a
Immigrating to Canada
wonderful hardworking girl be so marginalized and be treated in such a cruel fashion? After church the following Sunday, we met at Piet’s parent’s home for coffee and Mr. Vriend informed us that black people were not welcome in many places in Canada. We felt very sad and upset about that. The Canadian soldiers who fought so hard to fight for the freedom of our nation in Europe, did not fight for the freedom of some of their own citizens. It did not seem right, and burned a hole in our hearts.
There were many Dutch people in Amherst, and they built a network of friendships. One day, we received a letter informing us that Tom’s old neighbours in the Netherlands were moving to Canada. This was a big family and one of the sons had been a childhood friend of Tom’s. They would also be arriving at the Halifax harbour at Pier 21. My husband was determined to meet with them prior to their train travel to Ontario. After his visit with them, Tom became excited over the possibility of following them to Ontario. Under the circumstances of the resignation, we were now struggling financially more than ever, and worried about our lack of medical insurance and the worry of meeting our financial obligations in terms of paying off prior hospital bills.
In March of 1955, we made the move to Kitchener. This was the same area where Tom’s childhood friend settled, and after a short stay with them, we found a little house to move in to. We also met another Dutch family, the Vos family, and we visited back and forth often with the added bonus of a playmate for Tom.
On November 11, 1955, our daughter Martha was born. At that time, Tom worked for Weston’s Bakery. We found that the cost of living in Ontario was much higher than Nova Scotia, so the increase in wages was soon eaten up by the high cost of rent and food. Things seemed to regress not only financially, but in terms of our friendships as well. The people in Ontario did not seem so open and friendly as the friends we came to love in Nova Scotia, and I missed them dearly. One bright light that presented was a wonderful old couple that lived next door. Mr. and Mrs. Reidel became known to my children as Opa and Oma. They were kind and genuine and I was thankful to know them.
In 1957, our lives took another huge turn. Martha became ill and we were worried sick. We also did not have the financial ability to give her the medical care that she required. For the first time, I could not take it anymore. I needed my family. Now pregnant with my third child, I packed up my two children and left for home. Tom remained in Canada, hopeful to work hard and save money for our return and I traveled on a ship called the Ryndam crossing that big ocean once again. I longed to see my parents, and when I
Immigrating to Canada
finally saw my mother, it broke my heart. She had been extremely ill and I was shocked at how she presented. She looked frail and weak and I felt the guilt of not being around to help her.
Tom’s sister, Annie, went with me to search out a medical specialist for my little girl Martha, and the doctor informed me that she was only days away from potential death. He discovered that the illness was a result of a blood transfusion I had received in Canada during Tom’s birth, and the blood administered had been the wrong blood type. The extended process of healing Martha began under his medical supervision and when I learned that it would be a long time before Martha would be well, I wrote a letter to Tom that I would need to stay in the Netherlands much longer than anticipated. Tom replied with a letter of his own saying that he would rather be with us in the Netherlands than be alone in Canada awaiting our return. I did not like that decision because I felt that I would go back to Canada as soon as my little girl was better, but I understood why he was anxious to be with his children.
I also felt empathy for the fact that he was working so hard to try and get ahead. He worked tediously against the odds of illness with no medical insurance, having to send all of the money to support the bills of the specialist as well as the other bills. It seemed as if he might as well come back to the Netherlands as despite the valiant efforts, we seemed to be regressing rather than progressing as a family.
When Tom arrived back in the Netherlands, he accepted a job as train conductor and also helped his brother in his antenna business. Martha recovered. Then Niel, our second son was born followed soon after by a second daughter, Josepha. Soon Tom began to dream about returning to Canada. I had anticipated this and that is why I wanted him to stick it out in Canada in the first place. As he began to press on this issue, I hesitated to give my answer. Our fifth and final son was born in 1962, Theo. Tom had been researching a move to Alberta, and after giving the matter a lot of consideration, I finally relented. It was decided that we would move to Edmonton, Alberta with our five children in tow.
The process of emigration, involving things like medical check ups for all of the children, began in earnest. We packed our belongings into a crate, and Tom left the Netherlands on April 5, 1967. I later followed with all of the children in May. This time we traveled on an airplane and landed in Montreal. The rest of the journey was to be by train. The train left the station at 11:00 p.m. The children were extremely tired and because our taxi driver lost his way in Montreal on the way to the train station, we missed the train where
Immigrating to Canada
we had booked sleeping compartments, and were forced to take the next train with no such accommodations. I could not imagine how I was going to survive the next few days without a place for my children to sleep.
The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me, and on that particular day, two wonderful women offered their sleeping compartment for the children. I put the children on the bed and they slept while I sat close by so that I could keep an eye on them. After a time, when they awoke, they discovered a play area on the train. I was tired and felt grateful that they went off to play. I snoozed, comforted in the fact that the children were busy playing and were confined inside of a train, so what could possibly happen? Well, they could disconnect certain train cars in the middle of a desolate Saskatchewan prairie, and forget to check if the cars contain any passengers. That is in fact exactly what occurred. I awoke, and soon became frantic when I could not locate the children. I asked the people around me where the play area was. They had no idea. I began to panic and scurried about trying to locate the conductor. When I found him and informed him that I could not find my children who were playing in the play car, he looked stunned and immediately pulled the emergency brake. The train came to a complete stop.
Several hours had passed since the disconnection of the train cars. Plans to retrieve the children were set in motion but it was now dark and I continued to be extremely frantic. I did not want to imagine the fear of my children abandoned in a completely dark train car in the middle of a prairie field in Saskatchewan with not a building in sight. What would they do? Would they stay in the car or would they try to leave and go for help?
They were eventually rescued and brought to my side and as you can well imagine, did not leave my side for the rest of the train trip to Edmonton. I heard the children tell the story of how they comforted each other, how the older ones reassured the younger ones and I remember feeling so proud of my little heroes that day. I remain disappointed to this day that Canadian National has never apologized to me or to the children for this extremely disturbing oversight.
When we arrived in Edmonton, the children were extremely happy to see their father. Tom and I were relieved that our family was together once again and so grateful that the long journey was over.
The first days in Canada, the second time around, were a challenge, but we made the best of it. Tom had prepared for our arrival by purchasing air mattresses and sleeping bags for the children and lining up orange crates for us to sit on. It would be several
Immigrating to Canada
months before the crate we packed in the Netherlands made its way to Canada. Tom once again had a job at a bakery and worked many many hours. I settled with the children and registered them in school. I also applied for jobs. I was able to sew jeans for GWG and later worked at Alberta Hospital.
Picture: Our 5 children experiencing the first winter in Canada in 1967
In 1971, Tom realized his dream, of owning his own bakery. Not only did Tom work hard when he bought the bakery to make it a successful business, but each of the children also contributed a great deal.
Today the children are all grown up with families of their own. Each of them are successful in their own right. Part of their success is their strong work ethic and determination. I think being an immigrant family, with all of the hardships and trials that entails, encourages these powerful traits to develop.
Immigrating to Canada
Most of the children have left the bakery now and although each of them is a fully capable baker, their interests were elsewhere. Tom, the oldest, is an electrician and truly lights up a room with his wonderful smile and his big open heart. When Tom gives you a hug, you know it is genuine. Martha became a nurse, which is truly fitting, as caring for other people has been her nature since birth. She is gentle and kind and extremely giving of herself for others. Niel is a mechanic, a heavy duty mechanic and has had success in each and every area of interest he has ever pursued. Interests include flying and carpentry. He is a pilot and has built several homes. Niel has a quiet intelligence and like Tom, is soft and loving. Joyce (Josepha) is a teacher and was able to work her way up to being a principal and is now on the executive staff of The Alberta Teachers’ Association. Joyce loves photography and is also an accomplished artist. She is also a kind and loving mother and aunt. The youngest is Ted (Theo). Ted, like the other boys followed in his father’s footsteps. The difference is that eventually the other boys pursued different career paths, where Ted stayed with the bakery and eventually took over the family business. Ted, the youngest, is the child that still sees the humor in everything. His laugh is infectious and that is why everyone wants to be around him.
By immigrating to Canada, my children learned to depend on each other, especially in those initial, very difficult years when we were extremely poor and did not know the language really well. To this day, they remain extremely close. In 2003, Thomas van Hout Sr., my husband, passed away. He is extremely missed by all of the children and grandchildren, and by me. Tom’s great humour, his love of family, his perseverance and work ethic, and all of his other positive qualities live on through the children. I see him in them. I am extremely proud of who my children have become. Canada is their home. Today, the Netherlands is a remote connection. Although we still keep in touch and love our family in the Netherlands, my children could never imagine themselves as Dutch citizens. They are Canadian with Canadian children. The fact alone makes all of those hard days in the beginning worthwhile.