Lunshof, Geert and Geesje

GEERT (GEORGE) AND GEESJE (GE) WESTERHUIS -LUNSHOF FAMILY
April 2022

On February 23, 1951 Geert and Geesje Lunshof and their 6 children arrived at Pier 21 in Halifax Nova Scotia. They had left Beilen, their village in The Netherlands, and had stayed with Geesje's parents, our grandparents in Meppel for the last night before being picked up by a bus that was filled with other immigrants on our way to Rotterdam in order to board the S.S. VOLENDAM. It had been a tumultuous departure as our grandparents were very upset that we were leaving. My mother came from a tight family that found immigration an alien option. Our family consisted of 8 people — Dad and Mom, Grietje (Margaret 1940), Albert (1941), Roelofje (Ruth 1942), Marchiena Elisabeth (Mary 1944), Hendrikus (Henry 1947), and Jentina Roeliena (Ina 1950).

The S.S. Volendam had been a troop carrier during World War Il and was not a luxury liner. Women/girls were in separate sleeping quarters from the men/boys. We were in soft-bottomed slings that functioned like bunk beds and were housed in the hold of the ship. During the day we had access to common areas everywhere. It carried immigrants from the entire European continent. We were heading for Hamilton, ON where dad was sponsored by a farmer named Donald Shaver who owned a farm in Carluke, about 5 miles outside of Hamilton, ON.

In Halifax we faced a train ride all the way to Hamilton and dad decided that Albert and he would go into Halifax and buy the family some food for the journey. He wore his wooden shoes (size 13) while he walked through Halifax to find a grocery store and caused quite a sensation by pedestrians and drivers that were going by. Upon his return he brought back a couple of loaves of bread and an enormous jar of jam. It was the first time we had ever seen or tasted white bread. We thought it was delicious! It was winter in Canada and as the train made its way into the Maritimes it was not exactly shangri-la. We were Dutch and had lived in a cozy village and were not used to the wide spaces without anyone living there and had never seen so much snow.

All we could see was snow and more snow and once in a while we saw a light in the distance and it would be a lonely farmhouse. Dad made some worrisome noises and I would think "what did we get into". The train stopped in Quebec City and then continued on. At last we arrived in Hamilton and on the platform was our uncle Halbe, a single brother to our dad who had immigrated around 1947. Our sponsor, Don Shaver was there to pick us up and we were taken to the farm he owned in Carluke, a Scottish settlement just outside of Hamilton, ON. Mr. Shaver owned a house on his farm where we were able to live. Our furniture would arrive in a large wooden box sometime in the summer and this was February so we slept on mattresses on the floor and I believe there was some temporary furniture in the house plus there were bags of oatmeal and other foodstuffs. All very strange as we were not used to purchasing food in such large sacks. However, we had a roof over our heads and we were together and made the best of our situation. The next morning we, the four eldest children, were brought to the Carluke Public School to start our life as Canadians. Don Shaver, along with our dad, brought us in an enclosed pick-up truck and we had no idea where we were going, except we knew that it would be to a school. None of us spoke a word of English and here we were strangers in a strange land. In that classroom were other Dutch immigrant kids who had recently come and later we were told that our teacher, Vivian McBay, had just graduated from Normal School and in that one-room school she had 8 classes of which almost half of the children spoke no English. I met her years later and asked her how in the world she had coped and she told us that even the Trustees had asked her that question. She immediately set about changing our names into English (later we changed some of our names again because we did not appreciate the first attempt by Mrs. McBay). I remember being very impressed with the generosity of pencils, pens, rulers and notebooks. We were post-war kids and Holland was still struggling with all kinds of supply problems.

After our first day, the four of us headed for home walking on a county road through high snow. We were not really dressed for a Canadian winter and at one point I threatened to sit in the snow and just give up. We came to an intersection and Albert and I disagreed on which road to take — would we go right or left. None of us had any idea on how to get home and so we turned left. We walked and walked and it had become dark when we finally saw a light in the distance — it was a country farmhouse and was on a long lane. Cold, tired, confused and hungry we trudged through the long lane and knocked on a door. An older lady opened the door and immediately allowed us to enter. It seemed to me that she was expecting us and I watched in fascination as she went to an instrument on the wall and started talking. I had never seen a telephone and so she was calling someone who knew that 4 Dutch children had not come home from school. Our parents alerted the farmer that the children had not come home from school and both realized that this closed- in pick-up tuck had denied us the opportunity to see where we were going and that since we had not come home, we were probably lost. The community of Carluke had sprung into action and it was not long after we arrived at the farmhouse that Albert (who had gone outside to see if anyone was looking for us) saw the headlights of the pick-up truck with Don Shaver and dad in it. I had never seen dad cry but when he came into the farmhouse he and we were all crying and hugging each other. This all happened during the first few days in our new home in Canada.

Geert and Geesje had one more child in Canada in 1955. They called him George and he was born in 1955. Though dad was the son of a farmer he was by trade a butcher. Since area farmers only needed a farmhand in the spring and summer dad soon found permanent work as a butcher at Fearmans in Hamilton. It was tough going until the oldest children started to work but finally dad was able to realize his dream of owning his own farm in Alberton, ON. It was not a large farm so he supplemented his income by doing other work.

Dad and mom loved the Canadian weather and the open spaces and so today they are buried among the Scots, in a cemetery that borders the corn fields in Carluke. Their descendants now number 151 persons — they had 7 children, and at the time I write this (April 2022) there are 25 grandchildren, 72 great-grandchildren, and 47 great-great, grandchildren, who have all found their place in this beautiful land of many lakes, mighty rivers, majestic mountains and vast prairies. Sadly, two of my siblings have died, Ruth in 1989, and Albert in 2016.

Our parents never regretted their decision to risk their and our future by going to Canada. Their experiences during World War Il, when the Canadian First Army liberated us, gave them limited insight into the generosity, humanity and easy-going culture of the Canadians. They trusted that God would sustain them and bless them and indeed He did.

Written by Margaret Lunshof Buma
April 2022