I was always a bit hesitant to take a DNA test, because then my information would be somewhere in the system.
My children gifted me with an Ancestry DNA kit for Christmas and I told my family, that they better behave and abstain from criminal activity – because my DNA is somewhere.
The box contained the test tube, a preservative vial, plastic envelope and a postage paid box to return the test.
An instruction booklet was also included.
- Don’t eat or drink 30 minutes before providing the sample.
- Register the code on the tube online at Ancestry and you can link it up to your online family tree – or wait with that until later.
- Spit into the test tube up to the mark on the test tube. (This sounded easy enough but it took quite a bit of spit to fill the test tube to the mark)
- The vial that contains the preservative screws into the top of the test tube and you can see that it is water tight because the blue preservative releases and mixes in with the sample when you shake it for 5 seconds.
- Place the test tube into the provided plastic bag, place it into the provided box, seal and post.
And then you wait for the emailed results which can take anywhere between 8 – 10 weeks.
I have been researching my ancestry for a long time, and all my ancestors originated in Friesland, a province of the Netherlands.
So, my expectations from a DNA test, are all European.
We traveled to Friesland (a province of the Netherlands for the Van Der Zwaag Family reunion. To re-aquaint and meet new family members. Family memberes traveled from Canada, United States, Belgium, Germany and of course all the corners of the Netherlands. The last time I had seen most of my cousins was about 35 years ago, before we moved to Canada. We all have gotten much older, had married, had children, are now grandparents, and many already empty-nesters. My aunts and uncles that were still living are now in their eighties. I had seen most of them during the years as they would visit Canada. We had a great time of laughter, food, gebakjes, games (we played boeren golf and some even tried fierjleppen) Pictures were taken, memories were shared and relived.
Some of my cousins made a book about the life of my grandparents, their geneaology and decendants ( of the 11 of their children 8 are still living, 55 grandchildren, 143 great-grandchildren and around 70 great-great grandchildren and counting … )
A legacy for sure.
Another picture has found a place. I had this picture in my “unknown” box, I did recognize my Pake Jacob Hiemstra (top left), but I often wondered what the circumstances of this picture were. I send it to my new-found cousin Anneke, who not only knows a lot about genealogy, but she also volunteers at Tresoar, a great resource for my genealogy research of all our Frisian ancestors.
A few days later she sent me this response:
“I found out what this picture is and when it was taken. The sign says “Nederlands hoop in bange dagen – July 1922” . It means they will have to defend the country in times of trouble.This is a group of 18 year old boys/men who had been to the military lottery. On their hats they have the number they were assigned to. Once a year there was the military lottery in Dokkum and other places. Every 18 year old boy had to come there. He was assigned a number and with that number he could be called to the army, when necessary. Not every boy went into the army. Some where to small or had other physical deficiencies. Another was the only son in the house or his brother had already been in the army. So this is a gathering of boys, 18 year old, that went to the lottery. It was a tradition that afterwards they went to a photographer. The pipes belong to this tradition.
The picture is an example of a paper of the Nationale Militie. The number this person got is in red.”
So thanks again, Anneke – it makes sense, my grandfather was born in July 1904, which would make him just 18 when that picture was taken. I don’t think he would have been accepted in the militia, because he was a rather short man.
I also googled “lotelingen”, and found quite a few of the same kind of images, young men wearing numbers on their hats and smoking a pipe.
When my mother was still alive, she handed me her set of “good dishes”.
They were moving across the country, and she did not want to pack them all up.
Her reasoning:” Since you are going to
inherit them anyway, you might as well
keep them now.”
I placed all those dishes in a top kitchen cupboard, where they collected dust and grime (like all things do in top kitchen cupboards). I barely used them, either
I forgot I had them, or when the
opportunity arose to use them,
I did not feel like washing them first.
These dishes were not a family heirloom, passed down from a previous generation. My mother started collecting these dishes when I was young, not expensive like “Royal Dalton”, but simply bought at the local department store while we were living in Germany. The design is not of hand painted roses, but a lovely country scene depicting a castle on a high cliff, overlooking a river or valley. The color is difficult to describe, not sure if it is grey, green, or something in between.
For us kids it was great, because we always knew what to buy for birthdays, Mother’s Days and anniversaries, . We were all able to afford a cup and saucer, for the bigger items we pooled our money together to buy the soup tureen, the tea pot, coffee pot, and the large serving platter.
This set even includes the shallow German tea cups. We lived in Ostfriesland, so we drank Friesian Tea, which was a piece of art in itself. First you placed a Kluntje (crystallized sugar rocks) in the cup with special tongs. You then poured over the strong brewed tea enjoying the crackling you heard as the tea hit the Kluntje.
When the cup was half full, using a special spoon, you poured double (heavy) cream around the inside edge of the cup creating clouds in the tea.
Even though you have a small spoon on the side of your saucer, you do not stir the tea.
Then you began to drink. The idea is that with your first mouthful you experience the creaminess at the top of the cup; then you have a bitter, refreshing mouthful; and you finish with a sweet hit from the tea containing the sugar crystal which has by now largely dissolved. Then you start all over again. It’s considered bad form to have anything less than three cups . Your host will continue to fill your cup until you place that little spoon from your saucer into to your teacup to signify you’ve had enough.
Back to my dishes.
When many years later I purchased a china cabinet with our new dining set, these dishes were washed and proudly displayed for everyone to see. Once a year I would put them through a china cycle in the dishwasher, so they were clean and shiny.
Did I use them more often? Not really, I don’t really know why. Maybe the fear of breaking them? Maybe I was not comfortable using them?
Since Julie and I started “Seasoned Saturdays” together, my mother’s dishes have become a tool to bless others, to make others feel special. How does it make you feel, when your host brings out the best for you?
Some cups have aquired a few chips, however, that certainly does not prevent me from using them.
I will pass these dishes down to my kids (if there are any left, that is), and I hope they will use them to bless others.
Use the tools you have been given – talents, gifts and even material things to bless others. Don’t hide them away in a cupboard where they collect dust, use them.
I have my whole family tree uploaded at Ancestry.com. It is a great place to do research, find family stories, but also to get into contact with family members.
I was recently contacted by a fellow researcher who had information about my maternal grandmother and her family.
She turned out to be my second cousin (our mothers were first cousins) – what a great find.She send me a picture of my great-grandparents. It is always great to put some faces with the names, and I definitely recognized my grandmother in one the pictures. So thank you Anneke Westerhuis-Jager.
In my box of “Unknowns” I had another picture in which I only recognized my Beppe, but all other people in the picture were unknown to me. So I send Anneke a picture, and she told me that she had the same picture, and she knew the names of mostly everyone in the picture.
1. Baukje Hoekstra, your grandmother
2. Jantje Bakker married to Martinus Hoekstra
3. Martinus Hoekstra (Youngest brother of your grandmother)
4. Froukje Hoekstra (sister of your grandmother
5. Jan Heins
6. Griet van der Woud(e) married to Taeke Hoekstra
7. Teake Hoekstra (brother of your grandmother)
8. Jitske Heins
9. Gabe Postma
While doing research on the branches of my family tree, some times I come across a little bit of “treasure”. Not a real treasure, but some interesting information or sometimes even a picture. Recently I was doing some searching on a Klaas Jansen Heixan (my mothers great – great- great – great – great -great grandfather) and came upon the following:
This particular branch of the family tree were Silversmiths. Klaas Jansen Heixan was born on August 11, 1678 in Dokkum, Friesland, and like his father also became a silversmith. Every silversmith in those days had his own sign, or seal, to mark his work. (I found his sign, the KH monogram, at Meestertekens van Friese goud- en zilversmeden, werkzaam in de periode van ca. 1700 tot 1812 (Masterseals from Friesian gold- and silversmiths that were working between 1700 to1812 – but this link is no longer active) Not only did I find his ‘signature’, a sign that he placed on every piece of silverware he created, I also found a picture of a piece he made. At the following site, Botma Genealogy I found the family crest of a family Botma, at the bottom of a seal, which is part of a pipe stamper and other helpful tools. The initials G.G.B, are that of the owner. Upon closer inspection you can see the silver mark of the maker. On this website you can read the following: “Gezien het zilvermerk is het werktuig gemaakt door de Dokkumer Klaas Heixan. Deze stond ingeschreven in het gildeboek van 1704 tot 1738′. So, to think that one of my ancestors (even though it was long ago), created this piece from silver, somewhere in the 1700’s. It is like finding a little piece of my history. When looking for my ancestors, sometimes I rely on the research some others have done on that same branch. Just ‘google’ the name you are looking for and add a bit of information while you are surfing, like; ‘Heixan, Klaas ,silversmith ‘ that is how I found this picture and some more information to help me on my search. Do not forget to credit the site where you got your information.
To read that this family of silversmiths are part of my family tree is really cool,
but to actually find a picture of something they created is even cooler.
The world wide web is an amazing source of information – after “googling” some more I found another piece of
piece of Klaas Heixan’s workmanship –
A DUTCH SILVER SPOON, KLAAS HEIXAN, (DOKKUM), BETWEEN 1704-1738
Description – oval rat-tail bowl, engraved with monogram LR/MS within a shield suspending from a log of wood, lobed moulded handle terminating in a figure, maker´s mark only
Klaas Heixan was my 7th great-grandfather
Klaas Heixan’s son in law, Claas Justus Krantz (my 6th great-grandfather)
who married Dieuwke Klases Heixan in Dokkum on Jan 4th, 1739, was also a silversmith. He was born Feb. 25th, 1712 in Dokkum, and later worked from there.
Below is an example of his work, a spoon created in abt. 1750.
Klaas and Dieuwke had 5 children, son Joost (1744), who died before the of age 2, another son Joost (1746) who also died in infancy, a daughter Dirkje (1748), daughter Janke(1750) and another son Joost (Justus) in 1753, who was my 5th great-grandfather.
Images taken from Meestertekens van Friese goud- en zilversmeden, werkzaam in de periode van ca. 1700 tot 1812 (link no longer active)
Their main site is Zilverstudie
My Mother – Her Early Years
My mother, Dirkje , was born on August 12th, 1936 in Engwierum, a small village in Dongeradeel, Friesland, Netherlands in a small cottage, which housed the whole family. She was named after her great-grandmother Dirkje Jacobs Bos (the tradition was that you named your first son after your husband’s father, the second son after the wife’s father – the oldest daughter was named after the wife’s mother, the second daughter after the husband’s mother – the other children were named after the grandparents in the same order)
She was the 5th girl (after 1. Wijpkje,2. Sjoukje, 3. Stijntje,4. Froukje) born to Jacob Hiemstra (Pake)and Baukje Hoekstra (Beppe), later followed by one more sister (Romkje)and a brother Jacob(Oome Jappie as we knew him)
Pake, as I remember was short man, but he worked very hard to provide for his large family. When he was only 5 when his mother died, but his father remarried a few years later and from what Pake would tell that this new mother was extremely good to them, that is probably why he named his 3rd daughter after her.
I wish my mother was still alive, as I am writing this story about her, to ask questions and again listen to the stories she used to tell. I also wish I had listened better, so I would remember more.
When she was only a small girl the family moved to the village of EE – it was a small house – with a small barn attached to the house. There was no indoor plumbing and no running water, however there was a well with a pump in the kitchen, so lugging water was not a problem . Water had to be boiled for doing the dishes, which were then cleaned in a bowl on the table. There was an outhouse at the end of that barn and chamber pots were used during the night. There was one bedroom upstairs where all the girls slept on 2 beds. It probably was great for sisterly bonding or not, mom would tell us that often invisible lines were drawn on the bed – and when lines were crossed it was “war”. Pake and Beppe would sleep in the living room in one of the 2 bedsteads ( my sister and I would visit Pake and Beppe during the summer, and we would get to sleep in the other bedstead, and watch TV through the cracks)
My mother barely remembered the war (WWII), since she was only a little girl when the war broke out, Even though she did not remember specific incidents, she remembered the whispers, the fear, the tension which was always present, but there were glimpses of things she remembered:
The windows had be be blackened out at night, so no light could be seen on the outside. This was a rule implemented so the villages would not be targeted by bombers flying by overnight. They would be laying in bed at night, hearing bombers overhead, often sirens going off somewhere and in one instance
a bomb going off close by killing only a few cows and leaving a big crater. I wonder if one gets used to living in fear, not knowing what the next will bring. German soldiers could come into your house anytime and take whatever they wanted, so people would try to hide their things so they could not be taken. Villagers would drive their bicycles without tires, either the tires were taken by the soldiers, or people would hide their tires so they could not be stolen.
There was certainly a shortage of food in these days, but not as extreme as it was in the big cities. Because Pake was a farm laborer he was often paid in food, milk was usually plenty, as well as potatoes and turnips.
The food that was available was portioned out, even cooking it was often a problem since there was no coal to be had close to the end of the war for heating and cooking. Village elders would cut down trees, even though there were not that many, and the wood was rationed between the families to cook their meals. My mother often told us, that she remembered the worry on Beppe’s face, that she was unable to feed her children properly and often they had to go to bed hungry.
Clothes were always hand-me-downs, re-used and remade. Sweaters were taken apart, unraveled and new sweaters knitted from it. Socks were darned. Pake had wool available, also from the farmer he worked for and during the evenings by candlelight Pake would spin the wool, and Beppe and the older girls would knit. Because of the lack of other materials even underwear was knitted from wool, and as my mother described it, it was very scratchy and hot. There were no disposable pads or any such things, so let us leave all that to our imaginations. Neither was there much soap, so laundry was done only if it was dirty.
They did go to school during the war years, but often in the winter school was dismissed because there was not enough heat. Germans demanded that the Dutch children had to learn the German language in school and soldiers would often come to school to make sure that this rule was implemented.
My mother also remembered that close to the end of the war care packages sent from the US and Canada. These packages were parachuted down, collected and distributed to the families. Pake and Beppe also received one of these packages and every family member received an item out of this box. My mother was given a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers, a treasure for her indeed. She wore them to school the next day, and the following day, and these beautiful pink slippers were worn out by the end of the week. She was very sad!
No matter what age anyone was, everyone remembered D-Day, the day when Canadian soldiers drove into the village with their tanks. There was rejoicing, cheering and singing – what a party.
These soldiers brought with them things that my mother had never seen before – an orange, and her first taste of chocolate – she was 9 years old.
Even though peace returned to the country, it took a few years for things to get back to normal. The children went back to school, breaks would be taken in the fall, so the kids, including my mother and her siblings, worked in the potato fields to dig potatoes by hand, in the spring they worked for tulip farmers to skin tulip bulbs. Saturdays and Wednesday afternoons, when there was no school, all
kids worked to make extra money for the family. My mother’s oldest sister stayed home with Beppe, helping her with all her chores, while the others went out to work. Wages earned from everyone were given to the parents, they got to keep a few cents for themselves and the oldest sister at home also got some allowance from that. This is how the family survived during these financially poor years.
After elementary school my mom changed schools, form the village one-room schoolhouse to the MULO in the city of Dokkum. It was a 30 to 45 minute bike ride, depending on the wind, and only during the coldest times in the winter were they allowed to take the bus.
Later it was off to the huishoudschool – learing to be a housekeeper and wife. In her teenage years during vacation times and Saturdays she was hired out as a servant for a wealthy farmer. Farmers in those days were quite high up on the social ladder, and they had a lot of servants doing all their work. This particular farmer was highly looked up to, he was as my mother called him a “Sunday Christian”. He went to church twice on Sunday and mid-week prayer assembly on Wednesdays, had his own ‘booth’ to sit in in church (when you were tithing more you could sit further in the front, closer to the stove, I guess). But he was a horrible man to work for, a hypocrite swearing and cursing and treating his employees unkindly. My mom would often tell of the time when she had to clean the outhouse and polish the wooden seat on it. She purposefully had used an extra amount of wax and polished it so hard, that when the farmer using the outhouse shortly after , sat down on the seat and slipped right off, his feet pushing the outhouse door open. A lot of cursing and profanity was heard in the barnyard that Saturday afternoon.
As a maid, or a servant, my mom was often responsible to do the laundry. These were the days before washing machines, before indoor plumbing and running water. The clothes had to be taken to the wash house, clothes were rinsed in cold water, and during thee winters my mother’s hands would be red, raw and swollen because of the icy temperatures. I can understand why mothers were so extremely diligent to potty train their children as soon as possible. Often children now are trained by age 2 or later, but my parents were bragging, that they both both just over 1 year old when they were potty trained. There were no Pampers or disposable diapers, and they did not even have plastic pants over the cloth diapers, so when the babies were wet, so were their clothes, the bed sheets and everything else –they did have rubber mats to cover the mattress, so at least it would stay dry most of the time. On top of all that, the wash had to done by hand, hung to dry outside, or if the weather was miserable all the clothes had to be dried inside, in front of the stove. Of course people had a lot less clothes back then, even I remember when I went to school, I had 2 outfits: one which I wore to school every day of the week (in Germany we also went to school on Saturdays), on Sundays we changed into a clean outfit to go to church and wore it for the rest of the week. I was no different than my fellow students, maybe except for 1 or 2 ‘rich’ kids.
For one year my mother worked as a servant in a doctor’s family. They were kind and generous and treated her like one of the family. She remembered that one time the doctor told a patient to bring in a stool sample, so after a few days the patient came back with a large mason jar full of number 2, guess who had to clean that out.
Maybe it was during this time that she decided that she wanted to be a nurse, because one day she packed her suitcase and announced to her family that she was moving to Zuidlaren to become a nurse. The rest of the family thought she was joking, and expected her to come back within a few weeks, but she stayed. She started nursing training in the psychiatrisch ziekenhuis in Zuidlare, Groningen. She would tell many stories about her experiences there, I only wish I could remember more – if only I had listened better.
She did not finish her training there though, she got married before she was done, and in those days, women stayed at home after they were married.
I love going to estate sales and auctions, as well as antique stores. Often I come across a boxes of old photographs – pictures of families, of children, of someone’s ancestors – someone’s link to the past.
This really saddens me, no one has claimed these pictures, no one knows who they are.
I too have a box of pictures in my possession – I know they belong to our family, but I don’t know who they are. These are just a few “Unknowns” in my collection.
Recently I was doing some online research on my husband’s side of our family tree, and came upon this site: Het nageslacht van IJtzen Lieuwes Tamminga en Hiltje Karsjens Kalma As I was looking around on this great site, I ended up on this page page and found a very familiar picture, a picture in my “unknown” collection.
I now know that the lady in the picture was Antje Tjitzes Miedema, a sister of my husband’s grandfather – Klaas Tjitzes Miedema.
This site also provided me with more pictures of his grandmother’s family.
So thank you.
This leaves me one less mystery to solve.
STRANGERS IN THE BOX
-Pamela A. Harazim
“Come, look with me inside this drawer,
In this box I’ve often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, and serene.
I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box,
Their names and all their memories,
Are lost among my socks.
I wonder what their lives were like,
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I’ll never know their ways.
If only someone had taken time,
To tell, who, what, where, and when,
These faces of my heritage,
Would come to life again.
Could this become the fate,
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories,
Someday to be passed away?
Take time to save your stories,
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours,
Could be strangers in the box.”
I have not yet come upon a connection between myself and the royal family – but once in a while I come close toa relationship with a famous person. I this case it is a linkage to the famous Dutch painter Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn – it may be far-fetched, but none-the less very worthy of mentioning.
(Baukje Hoekstra – daughter of Jan Romkes Hoekstra son of – Antje Baukes van der Woud daughter of – Trijntje Folkerts de Boer daughter of – Neeltje Justus Crans daughter of – (Joost) Justus Klases Crans son of – Dieuwke Klases Heixan daughter of – Klaas Jansen Heixan, son of – Jan Carels Heixan, son of – Siouckjen Vallinc (Valkia), daughter of –
Hester Johannes van Loo, daughter of – Jan (Joannes) Boudewijn van Loo (abt 1563-1600)
Hester Johannes van Loo was my mother’s 9th great-grandmother. She was one of 8 children – among her siblings a brother Gerrit Johannes van Loo, which would then be my 10th great-grand-uncle. Gerrit, or also Gerard van Loo, was a lawyer and secretary in the grietenij Het Bildt. On Sept. 23, 1627 Gerrit entered into his second marriage with Hisck (Hiskje) van Uylenburgh, a daughter of Sjoukje Ozinga and Rombertus van Uylenburgh, who was a top lawyer, a town mayor, and one of the founders of the University of Franeker.
In 1624, after the death of his father-in-law and mother-in-law, Gerrit became the guardian of his wife’s underage siblings, Titia Uylenburgh, Edzert Ulenburgh, Saskia Uylenburgh, who was 12 years old at this time, and who later married the famous Dutch painter Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, who was the son of a wealthy miller from Leiden.
In 1631, in the company of the Mennonite painters Govert Flinck and Jacob Backer, Saskia traveled to Amsterdam. Supposedly Saskia Uylenburgh met Rembrandt there, at the home of her uncle, Hendrick van Uylenburgh, a painter and art dealer. Rembrandt produced paintings and portraits for Uylenburgh’s Amsterdam clients. For a while Saskia lived in Franeker when her sister Antje was ill. After Antje’s burial, Saskia assisted her brother-in-law, the Polish theology professor Johannes Maccovius, until she married Rembrandt in 1634.
Saskia and Rembrandt were engaged in 1633, and on 10 June 1634 Rembrandt asked permission to marry in Sint Annaparochie. He showed his mother’s written consent to the schepen. On 2 July the couple married. The preacher was Saskia’s cousin, but evidently none of Rembrandt’s family attended the marriage. That Saskia fell in love with an artist who was socially no match for the daughter of a patrician and that she pressed for a speedy betrothal against all conventions certainly shows that she was a very strong and independent character. In 1635 the couple moved to one of the posh streets in Amsterdam, the Nieuwe Doelenstraat, with prominent neighbors and a view of the river Amstel.Rembrandt gained financial success through his artwork, and decided in 1639 to buy a house in the Jodenbreestraat, next to the place where he worked. A year before, by July 16, 1638, Saskia’s Friesian relatives complained that Saskia was spoiling her inheritance. Rembrandt asked his brother-in-law Ulricus van Uylenburgh, also a lawyer, to help them out, confirming he was successful and able to pay for the house.
Three of their children died shortly after birth and were buried in the nearby Zuiderkerk. The sole survivor was Titus, who was named after his mother’s sister Titia (Tietje) van Uylenburgh. Saskia died the year after he was born, aged 29, probably from tuberculosis. She was buried in the Oude Kerk.
So I am not really related to Rembrandt – but there is a connection.
Some of our kids are quite artsy, but they did not get it from one of the most well known Dutch artists.