Remember when I went to Holland?

My Oma, Your Oma's Mom

I don’t remember exactly when I went to Holland, but I know you kids were young at the time. So, you might have a better memory of how old you were when I went. I went with Opa, and I remember telling you that I had been to Holland once before—as a baby—I don’t remember the trip.

Unlike Auntie Priscilla, Auntie Ruth, and Auntie Beeka, who all visited Holland and Indonesia as adults and were able to connect with the extended family, I hadn’t had that chance until this trip. That’s why it meant so much to go with Opa—back to his home and back to our roots.

I want to say I was about 30 or 31 at the time. Honestly, it’s been a few decades now, so the details are fuzzy. That’s why I’m sharing these pictures with you—to preserve those memories. I don’t have all the photos anymore, but if I find the rest, I’ll share them too. I know I had photos from when we visited Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam.

But to start, I want to share a picture of my Oma—your great-grandmother -

She was your Oma’s mom (my mother’s mother), and she came to America with my Opa (your Oma’s father). They lived in Holgate Manor in Southeast Portland, and I used to visit them there. One thing I always remember is that they lived right next door to an Albertsons. Every time I visited, she’d send me across the street to get her Nestlé Crunch candy—that was her favorite. Your Oma’s favorite was peanut M&M’s and of course, your Mother’s favorite is red licorice.

Even though I went to Holland with Opa, we visited Oma’s side of the family. I’m sharing pictures of Om Frits, Tante Bets, and Om Willy (Wilhelm, I think) and he looked a lot like my Opa—your Oma’s father. He passed away in 1982, but I remember him being a tall man with very German features.

Of everyone who stayed back in Holland, I probably knew Om Frits and Tante Bets the best. They used to visit us here in America from Holland. Every time they came, we were so spoiled—they had money and they were generous with it. I remember Tante Bets once took me shopping, and I got a brand-new pair of shoes. They also took us to Wildlife Safari in Oregon. That was such a treat because back then, we didn’t have a lot. Opa may have been working as a produce manager at the time, and Oma was a unit secretary at Good Samaritan Hospital in Northwest Portland.

So, visiting Om Frits and Tante Bets in Holland was a real joy. They lived out in the countryside, not in the city and we used a car to get there. If you're in the urban parts of Holland, it's mostly walking, biking, and public transit, but they lived farther out.

Om Frits had suffered a stroke, and the right side of his body wasn’t working very well. One morning during our visit, Tante Bets cooked their usual breakfast—rice, eggs, coffee, the same simple fare—and told Om Frits it was ready. Then she went outside to feed the birds. I remember watching as Om Frits slowly made his way to the kitchen with his cane, dragging the side of his body that had been affected by the stroke. It took effort, but he got there, ate his breakfast, and returned just as she came back inside. It made me feel for him deeply, but it also showed how strong and independent he remained, even in his condition.

Om Frits actually outlived Tante Bets.

In Holland, they have such an incredible system of care. He never had to go into an assisted living facility. Instead, he had three caregivers: one for the day, one for the night, and one for transportation. Every day, public transportation would pick him up and take him to the park with others. He got to stay in his own home until he passed.

Both Om Frits and Tante Bets were such kind, loving people. Om Frits was Oma’s brother, and Tante Bets—his wife—was truly an angel. So sweet, so caring. Om Frits had such a heart of gold. He was soft-spoken, really listened when you talked, and made you feel valued.

Our family has certainly seen its share of struggle, especially during and after the war. They were Dutch-Indonesian, and my Oma—your great-grandmother—was actually Portuguese. Her name was Paulona Dias, but in America, she was known as Paula Kluge. My Opa, your great-grandfather was Fred Kluge. That’s where our last name and roots tie back.

I’ll share more about the Chen-Sittrop/Dias-Kluge family line — and how it all connects — in another post. For now, I wanted to focus on Oma’s side of the family and that beautiful, meaningful trip to Holland. Oma had three sisters who came to America with her. Today, Tante Pris is the only one still with us. As you know, she and Opa stayed in touch after Oma passed. Now that Opa is gone too, Tante Pris may be the last of the original immigrants in our family to become a U.S. citizen — the rest of us were born here.

And next time, I’ll share more about Opa’s side of the family and what it was like visiting them in Holland too.