Ode to Joke Stolp-Vreeburg | This strong woman deserves an ode because she persevered and fought for her children

Ode to my mother Joke Stolp-Vreeburg born 10 March 1924 in Leiden

I heard you could write an ode to a woman you greatly appreciated. I would like to write an ode to my mother Joke Stolp because she did not leave us under very difficult circumstances. She gave us warmth and love and took very good care of us.

She was born on 10 March 1924 in Leiden as the youngest child of the Vreeburg family of no less than 12 children. The whole family lived above my grandfather's butcher's shop in the Haarlemmerstraat at number 12 in Leiden. My grandfather worked hard, it was the crisis years before World War II and he had to support the large family. My mother told me that she always ran to the shop from school and asked her father, ‘Dad did you have any customers?’ ‘No child,’ my grandfather would say. Times were tough and my mother told me that in the 1930s they were so poor they couldn't even buy a pair of nylon stockings.

When my mother was 16, the 2nd World War broke out. During the hunger winter, my mother became very thin and remained so all her life. She was a beautiful, tall woman of 1.76 cm and weighed only 48 kg. She worked in the household of a wealthy family from the age of 13 and learnt to cook very well there. My grandmother made sure she could do a seamstress training in the evening. That was quite a lot in those days, as there was no money to study. Only one of the many daughters my grandmother had, Auntie Nel, was able to continue studying after primary school. She became a teacher. My mother, when she had just started working as a domestic helper, had to cook for a large crowd almost immediately. She did so, although she had never done it before, and she succeeded excellently. She had only forgotten a pinch of salt in one of the dishes. 

After World War II in 1949, my mother became pregnant with my eldest sister. Her fiancé had promised her that they would get married, but turned out to have a family abroad and had deceived my mother. My mother was on her own, but she did not want to give up her daughter, my sister Marianne. At the time, it was quite common for an unmarried woman to give up her child. Fortunately, the family where she worked as a domestic help allowed her to come to England with her daughter. She told me that she felt very lonely in England. There was no telephone in those days and the only way to keep in touch with family and friends was by letter. She worked and lived there for 9 years with my sister Marianne. Back in the Netherlands, she went to train as a pedicurist, manicurist and beautician.

She met a certain Annie Stolp there. Annie said to my mother, you should meet my brother Bernard, because my mother was still single and wanted to start a family. No sooner said than done. My mother was very charmed by Annie's brother Bernard and they decided to get married after six months. As there was a housing shortage, they had to move into rooms on Pieter Langedijkstraat in Amsterdam West. Unfortunately, my father turned out not to be the charming and friendly man who had seduced my mother into marrying him. Right from the very first weeks of their marriage, his disturbed character came out. He scolded my mother and beat her. My eldest sister was ten years old when my mother got married. So this was her stepfather and she told me her memories. As a young girl growing up with only her mother, of course it took a lot of getting used to having a man in the house demanding attention. But all the uncles and aunts thought it was a wonderful solution, especially in a time without benefits and allowances. They only saw the outside of a somewhat shy, withdrawn, intellectual man who would take care of my mother and adopt her daughter. Marianne recounted how this stepfather, a lover of classical music, kept his records under lock and key. Whenever a record was put on, the tension was palpable, because how often it happened that there was a tap or scratch in the record and the needle skipped. My mother was blamed and scolded and beaten. Marianne also told about the pram she used to pick up old newspapers for money and then hung a little crooked afterwards. This in turn triggered domestic violence. When the police came to the door after such a violent scene, it was no more than a few soothing words; a safe shelter was not yet in place. The domestic violence continued, Marianne hid in a secret place behind a dilapidated shed. She felt guilty about that for a long time. Yet my mother bravely stood her ground and was now pregnant with my other sister. She worked part-time in a hospital, also had pedicure clients and did the housework. She could make beautiful clothes herself, even the summer school uniform for Marianne she had made herself. As it happens, that was an expensive purchase. 

My mother was expecting me almost immediately after marriage, and since they were living in rooms and there was no chance of finding accommodation, they decided to emigrate to Australia in 1960. They had attended an information evening about emigrating to Australia and thought they could make a good new living there. They left by boat and it took them six weeks to arrive there. They were accommodated in a so-called Hostel because they did not yet have a home. I was an 8-month-old baby when my parents emigrated to Australia. My youngest sister was born 3 years later. Unfortunately, emigration was not a success. My parents had to work very hard and they also had the wrong profession. My father was a remedial gymnast and masseur and could not sustain that work in the boiling heat in Australia. My mother was terribly homesick for Holland. After four years, my parents decided to return to the Netherlands. They had saved for four years for the return trip by boat because the outward journey cost only 100 guilders but the return trip was very expensive. My parents had a very difficult time for at least 16 years when they came from Australia. They had to start all over again from scratch to find housing and work. Their emigration had unfortunately failed and they had to cope with that too. They lived in too small a house for five people and had far too little income. This caused a lot of tension. My mother had a particularly hard time because she had to keep the household running and received far too little household money. With that, she still had to put a good meal on the table every evening. My father had mental health problems but there was no help in the 1960s and he didn't want it. He was apparently manic depressive. He had aggressive moods and scolded my mother, beat her and thus also gave her far too little household money. As a child, I was very afraid she would collapse and leave. But she always said that a mother never leaves her children and she got through these difficult years because of her strong and optimistic character. She could not handle a divorce, that was too big a step.

She worked alongside the household as a pedicurist. She also practised her work as a beautician alongside the household. I remember that every afternoon when we came from school, we could have a cosy meal in the kitchen. We didn't have to stay over at school. My mother was an excellent cook so we were served a delicious meal every evening.  We regularly ate a variety of healthy stews, hachée, wire meat but also pancakes. The suffering behind the front door of our small house in Amsterdam-West was indescribable. My mother cried a lot and slept badly. As a child, I tried to support and listen to her as much as possible, which is obviously far too stressful for a child, but she could not do otherwise.

Better times
Fortunately, the difficult years were followed by good years. My father took early retirement and we, the children left home. As tensions eased, my father became mild and kind to my mother. He changed from the aggressive, unpredictable man to a mild, gentle man. My parents made very beautiful dolls together and my mother went to doll fairs with a friend and enjoyed them a lot. My father and mother also went out a lot together on the free travel days of their train season tickets. They visited many exhibitions in museums. Every year they took a nice bus trip together and visited many places in Europe. My mother also sang in a choir for many years and performed regularly with the choir. This left her with some nice contacts. She regularly gave a nice speech to the choir members. My mother taught English to two ladies from Amsterdam North from the age of 83 until she was 93. She also developed herself by doing many courses and was very sociable and sweet. What I also remember was that she would always suddenly conjure up her harmonica on a birthday and then play a happy song for those present. My mother guided us well into adulthood. I moved into my room at an early age, but for the first few years I still ate at home every night. If I had something on my mind or needed advice I could go to my mother. I still miss her cheerfulness and her wit every day. She passed away in 2020 at the age of 96. She told me that the years over ninety were not easy but she endured these years very bravely and never complained. During the last years of her life, I went to see her almost every day. I did this because I appreciated her so much and to support her. But my two sisters, two nieces and a friend also visited my mother regularly. She was well cared for at Nieuw Vredenburg Nursing Home. She was lucky with her health because she hardly ever got sick and still cycled everywhere until she was 88 and until this old age she still regularly walked with me in the Waterleidingduinen. This strong woman deserves an ode because she persevered and fought for her children.