Part 1: Charming young people

CHARMING YOUNG PEOPLE
Written by Bert Plomp

My mother was a feisty woman. Never afraid to express her opinion. To anyone, anywhere. Her critical gaze was lethal. It made many shrink back before she even spoke a word. That attitude didn’t always sit well. I’m afraid I’ve inherited something of my mother in that regard. However, I don’t escalate things so quickly.

The relationship with my mother was rather strained for a long time. It wasn’t until I had definitively moved out that things improved. She certainly didn’t have it easy with a bunch of those provocative young ones at home. Moreover, I felt that she often left me out in the cold at a young age. She didn’t support or protect me in important situations against ’the wicked outside world’. There was absolutely no display of affection. It didn’t fit into the old-fashioned, strict upbringing of that time. There wasn’t much to expect from my father’s side either. It could have turned out very differently if she had shown a touch of motherhood like that of a warm-blooded Antillean mama. A mother who stands by her offspring through thick and thin. Like a lioness protecting her cub. Who gives her whole life for his well-being. Who absolutely refuses to hear anything negative about her child, even if they’re a top-notch criminal.

It puzzled me that my mother was deeply concerned about the fate of other people’s children. Little ones entrusted to her during her Salvation Army period. Children in orphanages whom she cradled in her arms and cared for with dedication. She might have thought: Compared to those orphaned children and the attention I received myself, my boys have nothing to complain about. And she was absolutely right. I don’t hold it against her.

After my father’s death, the relationship with my mother got better and I enjoyed her company a lot. She could take my teasing very well. I often teased her about her faith. She had long given up hope that a god-fearing person would ever emerge from me. That I would ever value her religious beliefs. I still remember vividly, when in her eyes I had long been completely detached from God, she tried to lure me to the ‘EO Youth Day’ time and time again. Every year, she reminded me of this Christian event at the Galgenwaard stadium in Utrecht. That it was coming up again. That so many fun young people attended that day. Young people like me. So, not exactly saints. She almost said: If you want to meet cute young girls, you should go to Galgenwaard. I never once honoured her recommendation. Those people might have been young, but any similarity with me ended there. Later, I realized that if attractive young men like Arie Boomsma attended such Christian gatherings, there would surely be young women of that calibre present as well. So, a missed opportunity indeed.

My younger brother Charles and I had no interest in a Christian career. Much to the sorrow of our parents, we did everything to free ourselves from the divine eye as quickly as possible. My older brother Theodorus, also known as God’s gift, was somewhat more devout at the time. Moreover, he was more eager to learn and wanted to glean something from the holy scriptures. On Sundays, the three brothers were sent to Sunday school. For this deemed necessary Christian education, each received some pocket money. The said school was located in a side street of Adriaen van Ostade Lane, diagonally across from the Reformed church there. Although Theo faithfully attended catechesis, Charles and I stopped at two visits to this instruction in religious doctrine.

At the end of the second visit, we were kindly yet urgently requested not to return. We were cursing out loud during the Bible stories. Nevertheless, Charles and I continued walking towards Sunday school on Sunday mornings for months. However, the pocket money was spent differently. On fries and cola in a nearby cafeteria.