Dina van der Laan (nee Beekhuis) was eighty-seven when she wrote down these memoirs. Her husband Harm had been gone fourteen years already by this time, and his handwritten memoirs were well known to her. I’m sure she was happy to let Harm speak for the life that they shared together for forty-four years. But her own childhood was missing from the story, and her children, no doubt, encouraged her to fill in the details.

She began strong, but like many others, the story peters out — this one at the point where she is pregnant with my mother, Stiny. Still, it offers fascinating details into early twentieth century life, and a counterpoint to husband Harm’s story of their courting, engagement and first year of marriage.

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