Thanks to all who searched, submitted or sent pictures. 

His father Karl and mother Maria were divorced when Mac was a young child and he never really knew his father. A few years later, WWII started. Early in the war, the Netherlands was bombed, invaded, and occupied by the Germans.  And shortly thereafter, Mac’s mother had a stroke and was paralyzed on one side of her body. In many ways these childhood experiences shaped his life.

I remember dad recalling that divorce, when he was a child, was something full of shame.  The community viewed their family as tainted. Extended family viewed them as “black sheep”.  He remembered they were treated as “second class citizens.”  He was most angry at the fact that he could not get a higher education because he “came from a divorced family”.  This created an attitude of “I’ll show them” that fueled his drive to prove himself for most of his life. Fiercely independent and not wanting to work for anyone else, Mac started a path of his own making, forming businesses along the way…TV and radio repair, inventor, instructor, salesman, hotel owner, automotive repair, and numerous other business ventures.

     But besides that stubborn independence, was also a strong desire to help those less fortunate… and provide opportunities for those, who like himself, were not able to get a higher education. My father believed everyone had the potential to succeed. He assumed everybody had the ability to reason, whether you were a college graduate or blue-collar worker.  Drawn to automotive mechanics, his training seminars always commanded students to think. “Let’s reason it out”, he would say.  “Let’s not just figure out what is wrong, but why it failed.” He had a belief that you did not need to be a genius,  ….just have some common sense and the ability to reason it out. My father intentionally developed automotive training materials that were heavy on pictures because he understood that most mechanics are visual learners. My father understood class discrimination. Through his automotive lectures he tried to get mechanics excited about their job. He wanted to encourage and dignify and honor the profession. He taught the process of reasoning and deductive thinking rather than memorizing facts. “Common sense” he would say…and assumed everyone had it… ,“just needs to be used.” 

     But behind my dad was always my mother. In many ways they were always a team. She was the business manager of every enterprise they ever did.  Both had the desire to help others. They opened their home to countless people, always showing hospitality and graciousness.  They ran a motel that housed low-income tenants.  My father wrote letters to prisoners (with mom’s editing) for several years through a nonprofit called prison fellowship. 

 

Soon after war was declared, Germany invaded and occupied the Netherlands. The Germans seized my father’s family house and Mac, his mother and three sisters could no longer live there. While moving to Epe, Mac’s mother and youngest daughter fell out of a moving truck when the door flew open. The two of them were hospitalized and the rest of the family sent to different extended family members. That is how the German occupation started for the family.

     My father loves to tell stories. Many of them about the wartime in Holland: Stories about working for a blacksmith; Trading horseshoes for food from the farmers; How he helped the underground rescue pilots; Finding a live V rocket; Stories of stealing from German warehouses; Smuggling food over the Ijssel River. But these were his safe stories…. He also saw and experienced things that no one should experience. Dad rarely talked about that… and when he did, you could tell it was painful. He grew up faster than he should have and I do think it affected him deeply.

     Dad had to take risks during the war to survive. He did things he never should have done. But he survived. It gave him a sense of invulnerability. This sense of confidence and “go for it” attitude was something he carried his entire life.  It is what gave him the courage to travel to Canada with little English and no money.  It is what allowed him to become a plumber in Canada with no experience. It is what allowed him to build an addition to a cottage with little knowledge or expertise. Whatever he did, he did it with gusto and full commitment. He had such confidence in his abilities and believed “everything will work out”.  Most of the time they worked out. Sometimes things were …lets say…improvised. Of course, mom always got nervous because dad would want to mortgage the house to invest in this new automotive tool he invented.  

 

 

When my father’s mother had a stroke, it changed the family’s life. She ran a boarding house to make ends meet. Now she could no longer walk, cook, wash….  Everything changed. For my dad it was a crisis of faith.  “Why would a woman who was so faithful to God, be punished like this?”  It was years before his view of a God full of wrath and punishment changed to a more loving and merciful God. 

     My father worked at a radio station for a while during this time. He was part of the repair team of electrical systems within the network. He was then asked to be part of a select team (kind of the geek squad) to tackle the tough technical problems and develop creative solutions to solve the issue. That creative problem solving skill would be used throughout his career.  He has been credited with writing the logic program for the Allen Smart Scope, a computer that can diagnose a car’s engine system. I remember 3x4 ft. graph paper taped together across the room with diagrams “if this…then do this” That graph was then put into computer code as the logic of the machine. But his creativity did not stop there. He was always creating new processes, new methods, or new inventions. He was always tinkering in the garage, inventing and repurposing things.  

 

Even before my mom died, dad’s memory was starting to fail him.  But since her death, his memory declined dramatically.  I could tell he was frustrated.  Over the course of the two years, his memories would slowly slip back in time… first to Kalamazoo, then back to Canada, and at the end his only memories seem to be back in the Netherlands.  …Full circle…. What was especially hard was seeing those things he valued ….his ability to reason, “common sense”, his creativity energy, his stories, ….slowly disappear. In many ways dad has been dying for a while now. His body just caught up.

 

Thanks dad for teaching me the ability to think and reason things out. 

Thank you for your gift of creativity.  ….to think about the possibilities.  Thank you for encouraging me to “go for it”.

Thank you for teaching me the value of learning and exploring.

Thank you for teaching me to respect people regardless of their education, circumstance, nationality or race.  

 

Thank you dad. I love you. Good-bye.

Your thankful son,

Lloyd

Mac was a very creative person, from coming up with innovations for computer automotive equipment, designing automotive diagnostic classes and equipment, rigging up systems for hanging banners in church, to “creative” house repairs and building.

Mac loved houseplants and growing outdoor flowers. The yard, which he presided over, had beautiful plantings in the ground and the cement pots he made. He generously potted ground cover for others to take home with them. And oh, the empty pots joined with the rusty hand tools and found a home where they landed.

 

Both dad and mom, as I called my in-laws, were very hospitable. Mac was eager to share his favorite foods when people came over; peanuts, baguettes with butter and cheese, fruit, cookies and coffee were on the menu. On thanksgivings he smoked a turkey for all who attended. On New Year’s Eve some folks from our church in Livonia descended on Mac and Louise for the Kalamazoo New Years fest and after midnight Mac made a Dutch treat called Oliebollen. Many people from all walks of life were invited to come over and swim in their pool and share food and drink.

Another distinctive quality of Mac’s was his lack of concern and cluelessness about fashion. Favorite clothes were cargo pants and Crocs shoes. Shirts were optional. 

Dad was good at storytelling, he loved to tell stories and had a lot of them, mostly from his experiences during WWII. He would share them among other places at family gatherings, and the theatre Lloyd and I were involved with. Dad with his Dutch Accent red suspenders, fisherman cap and wooden shoes were a big hit. He also liked to take “old fashioned “videos, which will help our family to hang on to cherished memories. And we are grateful for that. 

Mac loved the church (he even had Sunday clothes) He never wanted to miss a service. He and Louise taught Sunday school for many years. He hung many a banner at the church over the years and took a turn running sound. 

Dementia took what was good out of his life and now Lord willing he has been restored to a new life with his savior Jesus Christ.

He loved snacks. Peanuts, dutch licorice, bread with cheese, ice cream, really all sugar. I remember he had peanut cans stashed all over the house. Sometimes the cans actually had peanuts in them, sometimes they had random hardware and junk he couldn’t throw out. One of my favorite stories was a time when we were riding a public bus together, I don’t even remember where we were going, but he was sitting on a bench behind me eating peanuts from a large jar. I suddenly heard him say “you want some of my peanuts?” in his thick Dutch accent and turned around to see him offering them to the woman behind him. He looked at me and said loudly “she kept looking at my peanuts! I saw her looking at my peanuts and thought she wanted my peanuts.” I still laugh remembering him saying “peanuts” over and over.

He loved being topless. My Oma and Opa had a pool, which was great for us to play in when we visited, and also perfect for my Opa who loved any excuse to take his shirt off. Anyone who has visited their house, has seen my Opa putzing around the pool, watering the garden,or  fussing with some ramshackle repair, in nothing but short shorts and garden clogs. He had a rotund potbelly and long vertical scar, which he called his zipper, that ran from his breast bone to his belly button. I remember one time he and my Oma visited me at college and took me to lunch at my favorite neighborhood restaurant, which was always packed. I was turned away from him, ordering my food, and by the time I looked over, he had unbuttoned his whole shirt and his belly+zipper was fully exposed in the middle of the restaurant. It was so funny. My Oma was horrified.

He loved animals. Especially his dogs. They were beloved companions to him, roaming around the house and eating snacks together, and he was a doting, tender caregiver to them. I have such an iconic picture in my mind of Opa slouched in a beige lounge chair, cradling a dog in his arms saying “hey guy” with sweet affection in his voice. I remember him doing this same thing when he held my daughter, his first great grandchild, for the first time. He looked at her, smiled, and said casually and sweetly “hey guy”, and I knew it meant “I love you”.

He loved telling stories. One of the ways we really connected with Opa through the years was to ask him to tell us stories, which were mostly recounting memories from growing up in the Netherlands during WWII. Listening to these stories of his past life are some of my most treasured memories of him, some of the times I felt closest to him, and were such a gift to us. 

He loved us. He didn’t love us in the same way my Oma did--big, bright, warm--like her. He loved us his way by sharing stories and snacks and being silly. I think I got some of my snarkiness from him, though thankfully didn’t inherit his love of bulk buying discount goods from Big Lots. I will miss both of them for the rest of my life.

 

I am grateful for all the stories you would tell us from growing up in the Netherlands and your immigration to Canada. Those stories fed my imagination and gave me ties to different places and times that allow me to better understand where our ancestral family comes from.  

 

I am grateful for your inventiveness. You would see something that was missing and rather than going out and buying a thing that might work, you would use what you had to come up with a solution. Your home was full of your custom creations. Your inventiveness was paired with your reason and logic. If “Like so” then “like so.” You were never satisfied with simply what something was but why. 

 

 

I am grateful for your love of nature and sense of wonder about things. You took good care of your garden and plants. You loved interacting with animals, especially dogs. You could not help feeding animals even when you weren’t supposed to. I remember a time when we were on a boat and you were feeding the seagulls, and the people around us yelled at you to stop or else we will all be covered in bird poop.  

 

Most of all, I am grateful to you for the gift of my father, Lloyd. I see a lot of you in him. The jokester/trickster, the maker, the introspective, the tinkerer, the lover of nature. I am so lucky to have him in my life as a father and friend. You also recognized my mother as a partner for your son and encouraged him to prioritize that relationship.   

 

You always seemed to be working on something whether it be plants in the garden, training material for automotive scopes, or working things out in your head. Maybe that's partly why you kept trying to pull the hospital tubes loose all the time in your final years; you had stuff to do. Although I imagine it was the same impulse that made you want to take your shirt off all the time. It’s comforting to know that you are at peace. Like the feeling you must have had when you were outside shirtless in your garden with a cup of sugar filled coffee and a stash of peanuts by your side.

When Jeff decided to drop out of school, Mac invited him to come to Michigan for a few weeks, and he took him on his business trips, selling and servicing automotive diagnostic equipment. That short period of “shadowing” Mac proved to be a huge influence in Jeff’s life. He was so impressed with Mac’s skill and knowledge and especially his attitude towards his customers, impressing upon Jeff that it was more important to provide good service than to make a sale. So Jeff became an electronics technician, something he had never even heard about. 

I miss them and remember them with gratitude for being the fine folks and good friends they were.

May the Lord comfort all of you as you remember your wonderful parents and grandparents.

Gratefully,

Dan and Shirley Hendriksen

We all had been through a very difficult time and now the 2 of us are going to Canada.

Leaving behind our handicapped Mama, promising her we will send for her if that is possible, we left her in very good hands, had oom Henks blessing, my moms brother who was staying with us and our house keeper miss Tia.

Oom Henk moms youngest brother who loved us and helped us out many times, he also believed in Martien’s special gifts and got him a hard to get job, at Radio Kootwijk in Apeldoorn. they were amazed with his knowledge and keen mind.PTL.    Martinus was only 17 or 18 years old!

When he became of military age he was called in to the army, no way said Martien. I am leaving the country!!   Which made him a draft dodger!

I wanted to go to a country to learn better English. I knew how to read and write It but speaking  it was a different story. People from our church, the Kasteels, were going to

Canada,  many people in the Netherlands were disgusted with the treatment of small businesses, so much red tape, many left that year.  Another bad thing was we could not take money out of the country, we were only allowed f 800 gulden each, $ 200 dollars what made it very hard for those well to do people who had soId their business

The kasteels loved to take care of us and that is exactly what they did, God is good.

We helped each other out for them paying our way  and we paying them back in dollars, whenever we could.

And so it was that we all went together to Canada and arrived in Edmonton oct 15 on my 21 birthday, Martien was 19 and would be 20 in Dec, he stayed with the Kasteels

who had a house to go into till June 1952 and he became their first boarder. Martien could not go back to the Netherlands because of his military duty. He did not plan that either,

I felt bad that my brother changed his name to “Mac”meaning nobody, that was what he thought about himself, yes we were nobody’s until we all proved ourselves, immigrants we were, but we were Hollanders and harder workers than the Canadians. , Martien sure did that but with the wrong attitude of all his hurts in the past, he was going to show what he was made of, he did not have to do that, he was a genius but did not know how to get rid of the past and know that he was created in Gods image, we have no past but a future only. He felt that he should have had a higher education but forgot that we came out of a war and that he educated himself with mama’s help and the uncles who saw in him something of themselves  and worthy to invest in, Martien had a special room to do his inventions in, Ham Radio, he was only in his teens, many older men came to see his inventions and were very impressed.

Schooling in those days was difficult after the war and Martien had no interest to waste his time and could not sit still he wanted to work with his hands and follow his brain he  could have gone to the Mulo but choose ambacht school, I went to the  Mulo but also had to quit halfway.diplomas were given without tests, aftermath of the war.

Just like now with the COVID. Even here in  Canada it is difficult to get into a chosen field, most geniuses were above their teachers and so was Martien, too bad he became so cross and rebellious, his rebellious spirit and my sisterspirit clashed a lot which made me very sad, he was all I had and he hurt himself the most. He had his reasons, was very sensitive and wanted to belong and accepted,Mac was complicated and very  funny.  Our Dutch humour was and is greatly misunderstood as sarcasm which it can be, but mostly is not, it is very truthfully and funny!.  We laugh a lot at our own mistakes and funny thoughts, but not at people but with people.

Martien, I have shed many a tear about you for making your life and others more difficult than it is-and not accepting Who you are, an loving generous wanting to help others ,person,

and that you did and did not gave yourself the credit,

I am so grateful that you finally accepted God’s Love but so much pain to get there.

Thank you dear Lloyd from Adrie and me to send us this most beloved Video  that our names came out of our dying brother with such conviction and a twinkle in his eye for 

remembering his two sisters who dearly loved him. God is so good!

Thank you dear Lloyd for this closure, lieve man! You were a wonderful son and your father knew it and did appreciated you for it

Je tante . Miesje,