Eefje passed away early this morning in the hospital, near to where she lived and where I keep “Fleetwood III” . We said goodbye on September 26^th when I returned from Amsterdam to “Fleetwood IV” in Virginia. I have known Eefje since she was 16 in 1956. But we did not shake hands until June 6, 2003. That day started a romance that was not meant to be. I was already working on getting “Fleetwood I” ready for my circumnavigation. But it turned into a good friendship from the time that I sailed “Fleetwood I” to Amsterdam in 2009 and continued until her passing.

Eefje lived only a 10 minutes bicycle ride away from where I worked/lived on the boat at the Yacht Club “de Schinkel”. I would visit her every Sunday after the 10.30 mass at the St. Augustinus church, for coffee. Often part of her extended family would be there as well. She is survived by her sons Peter and Frans and her daughter Ellen and her eight granddaughters and one grandson. And a sister.                                                  All dear friends, gorgeous, successful and a very close family relationship with their grandmother. I have seen them grow up since 2003. They will dearly miss their oma.

Evelyn was always very caring for me and made me laugh with her limetless assortment of jokes. She visited me and my family and friends for Thanksgiving 2003 in the N.W.

Her physical problems started with a young boy rearending her in, around, 2011. She had back problems from then on. Never an insurance settlement or an apology from the parents. She stopped using her bicycle and more recently sold her car. She kept falling. She had good day care. But in early September I took the night watch. When I left she appeared to recover and manage without the night watch. She called me after I arrived on the 27^th of September in Virginia. I feared that my good bye on September 26^th might be the farewell. But the message from her daughter Ellen came still as a shock. May Eefje rest in Peace and her love and care and jokes continue to warm our hearts.

Now on a lighter note there is a somewhat hilarious background to the period from getting to know Eefje in 1956 until I shook her hand in 2003.

I worked in 1956 as a trainee for a large hardwood importer in the port of Amsterdam. On my way home from work I passed Eefje’s home in de Scheldestraat and she would always be at her front door and wave at me. Through mutual friends I knew who she was, but I was 19 and I was not going to mess with a 16 year old. And I had a girl friend my age. I left Holland for a new life in the USA  on January 11, 1957. My twin brother was still going to school to learn to be a shipbuilder. He had a hand me down bicycle and I gave him my English fancy Humber Clipper, red frame, white fenders, racing handlebars.

One of the first letters I received from my brother, after arriving in California, was that Eefje was now his girlfriend. So, Eefje did not have a crush on me after all, it was the bike.

In 1965 I worked for Weyerhauser in Belgium until 1970 and I would see my brother occasionally and we would wonder where Eefje might have ended up after my brother’s friendship with her ended a year or so after my brother managed to have my red and white Humber Clipper stolen. He married in 1962 and he has managed to find true love instead of an affection for my two wheeler and has managed to celebrate a 63^rd anniversary. His twin has only managed to achieve 1/3 of his married bliss.

In May of 2003 I flew to Holland to visit my European customers for my company American & Tropical Forest Products Company and to see the launch of the restored “Groote Beer” botter yacht. See: https://cometosea.us/albums/GrooteBeer%20webpage.pdf

One of the hood’s kids I grew up with, Gerrit Alberts, from the Griftstraat had organized a get-together with a dozen of contemporaries on June 6th at the “Rockefeller”, a bar-bodega next to the RAI convention/trade show complex on the Scheldestraat. I happened to sit across Marleen Zemmelink, de sister of Martin one of our street brother-hood pals. I remembered that she was a friend of Eefje and I mentioned to her: “Eefje used to live across the street” . She: “Oh, would you like to talk to her?”. She punched her up on her cellphone and I got to talk to the elusive lover of my Humber Clipper. I asked her to come join us. She had been divorced for many years. I did not recognize her at all from my flashing handwaving exchanges off the saddle of the good looking bicycle. But all I wanted out of this encounter was to e-mail a photo of me with my arms around her to my twin.

Well, I might have reconsidered this if I would have known that this ended up in a 19 year retribution from my dear brother. Apparently his interest in her ran deeper than hers in my bicycle.

The first picture is the 1^st meeting at the Rockefeller and the 2^nd is at he 90^th anniversary of the Yacht Club “de Schinkel” in 2009.

November 2009 de Schinkel

June 6th 2003

I thank God, Marleen Zemmelink and the British Humber bicycle manufacturer for the love and friendship I received from this special woman and from her family.

My previous blog of September 1st was titled “Ich bin ein Berliner” this one ends with “I bin a Bayer” in the sphere of Oktoberfest.

One of the best transatlantic flights, there have been many, I ever had. On an airline I had never heard of. The Icelandic Happy Airline. I was impressed with their online booking setup and when checking in at Schiphol on September 26 that was the fastest and smoothest experience ever. On the leg from Reykjavik to Baltimore I had a emergency exit row with lots of legroom and the center seat stayed empty. But, alas, Happy Airline ceased to operate four days later.

Full October moon over the Chesapeake Bay in the morning mist

I am still on the Hard in the Yard, siting next to my shopping Card at wall-Mart, (can be sung to the Dutch tune of “Op de hoek van de straat…”) while waiting for the southbound bus with the last items I need to ant-foul Fleetwood IV’s bottom. When done I expect to be launched again, after they move a fleet of huge boats from around my spot. I’ve been busy trying to get a new US phone working. It has been another nightmare like I have gone through on the last four annual re-entries into God’s country. Verizon, Ting, Boost, Google Fi and last year’s T-Mobile.

T-mobile had my most recent phone number and I tried to re-open my subscription but they refused to use the three absolutely good credit cards I have. Noone else has this problem. So, then there is this senseless exchange where they have to  send me a security check to the phone that they have blocked. So, I still had a good sim card from a previous attempt to use Google Fi. Everything worked fine until they had to come up with a new phone number for me. They kept sending me messages with an apology for the delay, but were still working on the number. For the next 12 days. So, I settled on a new service and new $100 phone with Verizon.

Please, use the above 253-294-1022 number from now on. Also for Whatsapp. I’ll be checking the Dutch number 31-649676419 less frequently on my Dutch cell phone.

I lost an inch from my waist line having raw cole slaws for dinner. My 26 kg LPG tank ran out and so far I have not found a way to fill the tank. It has a German valve and the system here is set up for the barbeque grill propane tanks. I have had some help from the German mfr of the nice allu tank but no adapter found. So, most likely Lou Engretti the ironmonger friend here who did some very creative work in straightening the bend rudder shaft on Fleetwood II in 2018, after the 2017 shipwreck, will try to make up a custom adapter. In the meantime I purchased a one burner camping propane stove and had my first home cooked meal last might and real coffee this morning.

One new thing this old goat learned in the 6 trips I took up to see Lou in Exmore and to Wallmart, about 40 miles north of here, is a a piece of Americana that I have been involuntarily been sheltered from for most of my life in America. 99% of the riders are local African Americans.  They know every one by first names in the 50 square mile territory, and their parents and their siblings. The back and forth chatter is hilarious but kind and respectful. It makes the over one hour ride with side trips into a landscape that I have seldom be exposed to an eye/ear opener. If I do this a few more times I might be able to add another language to my five plus languages, so far I am at about 50% of it. But enough that I envy my black brothers and sisters and wished more of it would rub off on me.

This evening we celebrated the Birthday of Laila Moretto at the home of Sharon Whitman. Laila’s birthday was on October the 9^th which happens to be the same brthday as my Dad. He could have been her granddad if her grandmother had wanted him. And my daughter. Laila was born in Nazareth, Israel. Her mother is Armenian who grew up in Eastern Turkey and her father was raised in Egypt and just like the other Nazarene father was a carpenter. She speaks fluent Arabic and Hebrew. Visiting her cradle is very high on my list for the years I have left. The picture was taken by Susan Kovacs. I will send a link to my super-duper Dutch dentista, Linsey, she did one fine job on those lower teeth.

L.R. Kay Hopson, Arnie, Laila and Jack

Birthday Girl

Just to fill you in on the progress of the latest developments on “Fleetwood III” in Amsterdam. I decided to repaint the cabin roof and window sides. Even though both hull and cabin roof paint job by the seller looked very good, I discovered that in the spots where a machine sander could not be used the paint was coming loose. They had not removed the obstacles. I did it right and removed these and in the process found more rot to be removed, which extended the time I had allotted. My nephew is removing the masking tape.

The judge gave us a deadline of October 28 to respond to the retort from the vendor to our claim. And that has kept me busy the last ten days. The vendor has figured out that I have lost my e-mails to him from before June 10, 2024.  When Go Daddy screwed me in the migration of my jack@cometosea.us address to Microsoft. So, he claims that I never communicated with him for 2 years until I sent him the last bill the end of 2024. And that this solves his problem. But this might actually proves to the judge that he is a crook. Because we can prove his double hibernation, after all. And I am blessed with a very competent defender and from what I have seen of his representation, his is the opposite. But it remains a game of luck and, please, say a prayer to God or your preferred deity. Also, I have a favor to ask. My lawyer asks if I can rustle up a few written testimonies from any of you who recall me speaking or communicating in e-mails or in these many blogs I wrote since the story began in late May 2022, about the fact that I mentioned that the job was not done yet and that there would be more bills to send to the vendor. Remember that, until now I have kept these highly entertaining blogs without commercials, so you owe me a favor. Or else….

I intend to fly to the N.W. on November 15 for Thanksgiving and return after St. Nicholas, December 5^th and then head south for the winter. I hope to make a short trip North on the Chesapeake to visit friends in Kinsale and to pick up a furling drum for “Fleetwood III” near St Michaels, Md. before November 15^th. I plan vote here on November 4^th. Here in Virginia my vote can make a difference. Not in Western Washington.

This Sunday evening we have an Oktober Fest dinner at our parish hall. I shall have my lederhosen on and sing: “Ein, Zwei, Sufa…… “ Und erzeigen was Ich vertragen kann…..