Ode to Mance Post | Because of you, I decided to become a Soroptimist

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For those unfamiliar with Soroptimism, there is a brief explanation at the bottom.

Dear Mance,

How long it has been since we last met. You passed away on December 2, 2013 at the Onze lieve vrouwe gasthuis, or OLVG, now OLVG Oost, the downtown hospital close to your beloved home in the basement at 1019 Prinsengracht, where you entered through the window because it didn't have its own front door.

Because of you I decided to become a Soroptimist, a member of Soroptimist club Amsterdam Centrum/West, just like you. I did tell you that once. At a club meeting, where I was still present as an interested party, you put your hand on my arm and said, “You become a Soroptimist.” Why exactly you said that, I did not ask then and did not ask again later. That gesture gave me a warm feeling.

To me, you were the example of an old guard Soroptimist: a single independent woman, who stood her ground with keen powers of observation, occasionally a strong opinion when necessary, but also modest when it came to your work.

Proud of the Max Velthuijs Prize you were. It was the first time this prize was awarded in 2007, which you received for your entire body of work as an illustrator of children's books. You put the figurine of the frog in your bathroom, where a frog in swimming trunks feels most at home, you said.

Here at home, a standard expression is: You are a hero ... , just like ... Exactly Frog, taken from the story by Max Velthuijs. Whenever this expression comes up, I always think of you. Our daughters grew up with the stories of Frog.

And of course we gave the oldest one The Big Book of Daisy, inspired by your drawings. That book is inextricably linked to our camping vacation beginning on the French coast. We had rented a camping cottage, but the girls wanted to sleep in the little tent that husband Jaap had bought long ago from Loe Lap, also an Amsterdam icon from before my time. Tough isn't it. But, what happened? It started pouring rain and thunder. As if out of one mouth they cried, “Daddy, we're scared.” In the pouring rain, we brought them inside. Tent closed, we'll see tomorrow, was the motto. But oh well, the next day Daisy was floating around in the little tent. When I told you the story, you said you still had some boxes in the hallway and I could come and get a new one. That never came to pass. Now, some 25 years later, that nearly drowned copy of Madelief is still here in the bookcase with a loose section.

And then it was 2007 and you drew the poster for Children's Book Week with the theme “sub rosa”: books full of secrets, where you can ask yourself all kinds of questions. I still have the poster clear in my mind, I thought. But that turns out not to be entirely true. The bat is holding the rose, which is hanging upside down, under which the squirrel is sitting on a branch with the owl. On a side note, you were tempted to narrate at the Bookman School, in grade 7, which our youngest daughter was in. Husband Jaap picked you up by car and brought you home again.

Who would have thought that more than four years later we would sit at the table with your neighbors and have a very pleasant evening, because our still young children more than liked each other. You enjoyed hearing that. After all, you knew all the kids in the neighborhood and certainly the neighbor kids. And then of course we also talked to them about you and the bond of each of us and the neighbor children with you. That's how small Amsterdam's inner city is.

And then I pick up your last book again. This time it went in reverse order: You drew first and Toon Tellegen wrote the words to go with it: A song for the moon. Are you the mole who writes the song for the moon, Mance? In so many words you didn't say or didn't want to say. Just as you actually always said little about yourself or your feelings. The mole, who in the musical notation of the song, becomes a cross, so that the song sounds more cheerful, or does it?

It was sad for you when your dear friend Dieuwke Abma-ter Horst passed away in August 2013. She lived with you on the same side of the canal. As long as it went, you saw each other every day for a cup of coffee. She, too, was a member of our club. She made the bust of Simon Carmiggelt, who was also so dear to you and with whose family you had a warm relationship. That bust is in the Stadsschouwburg, or as it is now called Internationaal Theater Amsterdam (ITA). I didn't know you figured in a Kronkel, which Karina Meister let me read, our second oldest member at this time and also such an extraordinary woman and artist.

Thank you dear Mance for allowing me to get to know you and for calling me to become a Soroptimist.

Warm Sor greetings,

Marjolein Snep 
Secretary of Soroptimist Club Amsterdam Centrum/West, Legal advisor social domain at the municipality of Amsterdam 

What is Soroptimism?

Soroptimist
The name comes from Sorores = sisters and optimum= best So: sisters, Sorores, who pursue the best, optimum.
Soroptimist International, with 66,000 members in 120 countries, is committed to supporting women and girls through action, advocacy and awareness.
The Union of Soroptimist Clubs in the Kingdom of the Netherlands and Suriname was founded on Jan. 29, 1928. The Union has nearly 3,000 members in over 100 clubs.
Our club was founded on January 29, 1928 in Amsterdam as club Noord-Holland; the name was changed to club Amsterdam in 1935; split into three in 1970, the original club was named club Amsterdam Centrum/West.

(sources: site www.soroptimist.nl en www.atria.nl waar het archief van Soroptimistclub
A’dam Centrum/West is ondergebracht)