When the train stopped in Bunnik, my compartment was the farthest from the platform. When I stepped out, I saw a silhouette in the distance waving at me. It was Angelique. She was dressed all in black, with a long raincoat that looked like a cape and with a wide brimmed black hat. For a moment I felt I was in one of those Zorroesque Sandeman commercials I grew up on as a boy in the Netherlands. It was mysterious, like my distant long-term friendship with Angelique. I walked towards the mystery and with each closing step things became clearer as I saw her long, blonde hair becoming more noticeable. Angelique stood tall. Angelique was Dutch.
|The Mystery of Sandeman Port|
I was stunned by the standoffish greeting but hid my disbelief with a stoic facial expression as I followed Angelique to her car. As she kept small-talking, I kept thinking: After all these years and past experiences together, she greets me with a first-bump? But then I remembered that she was always cold and robotic. The times she had shown charm and charisma it didn't seem genuine and spontaneous but more of an act. I had hoped she had grown and matured, but the verdict was still out.
Once we were inside her car, I wondered if Angelique really believed all the corona hysteria? If so, why wasn’t she wearing a mask? And why had she invited me to stay the night at her place? It made no sense.
What I hadn’t told Angelique was that I had reservations at the local Postillion Hotel. And after the cold fist-bump, I suddenly had cold feet to stay at her house. I was thinking it would be better to stay at a hotel and have my own space. So after Angelique started driving, I told her about my hotel reservation. But she abruptly flinched and said she had already arranged everything for me. She asked me to visit her home first before making a decision. I reluctantly agreed, thinking maybe I had been too quick to judge. Maybe I was too judgmental . . . let's give it a chance.
Once inside her home, she showed me the room she had prepared for me; it belonged to her son who had moved out for college. Everything was nicely organized. I felt obliged to stay and Angelique called the hotel to cancel my reservation. I was wrong.
We then had lunch in her kitchen and to my delight Angelique had bought me some North Sea herring. After lunch we took a long walk together through the Dutch meadows that was located right behind her home. And all seemed fine.
At some point I told Angelique about the Dutch officer at Schiphol Airport asking me if I had been vaccinated, and him being surprised that I wasn’t. I myself found this surprising because I believed that the Dutch were far more sober than the Americans about the corona policies and politics. Americans seemed to believe everything the news media told them. I myself had experienced too many masked women running across the street on a sunny day as they saw me approaching them as a pedestrian from the opposite direction. The bizarre collective hysteria had reminded me of something from a Rod Serling Twilight Zone episode.
|Corona virus hysteria reminiscent of Rod Serling's Twilight Zone|
Ironically it was the Dutch political opposition to these government lockdowns and QR codes that had inspired me to return to Holland again. From what I was reading in the Dutch media, there was a strong philosophical movement against the corona policies of the Dutch government. I was most impressed with Thierry Baudet and Gideon van Meijeren from the FVD party, Forum voor Democratie. They rejected not only the government "science," but also the government's edicts nullifying the people's freedom in the name of "public health." Most impressively, they opposed the government mandates on moral and constitutional grounds.
|Thierry Baudet, Forum voor Democratie (FVD)|
I hadn't shared any of these thoughts with Angelique, but I did tell her that only a few weeks before my arrival in the Netherlands I didn’t have to show a corona test result, then suddenly I had. Then one day the US was considered a safe country, then the next day the EU said it wasn’t. Then one day US citizens arriving in the Netherlands were subject to quarantine, then the next day they weren’t.
But Angelique didn’t appear very interested. I tried stoking her curiosity by mentioning that many corona virus policies had been wrong and ridiculous, such as the wet/dry sand rule. I explained that when all these lockdowns occurred in California, people were not allowed to sit in the dry sand of the beach (and were arrested). But they were allowed to walk in the wet sand along the beach. And all this was considered “science.”
When she returned a few minutes later, she told me in a very controlled and subdued manner that she was extremely angry and that I wouldn't be able to spend the night in her home. When I asked her if it was because of my views on the corona virus, she confirmed it was. When I told Angelique I was open to listening to what she had to say, she declined to explain her thought process, assuming she had that.
|Becoming an "Unperson" for corona "wrongthink"|
We exchanged no words during the ride to the hotel. I just kept looking out the windshield and wondered at what point in her life Angelique had lost her humanity.
A lot of it has to do with the Dutch caste system that is still inherent in its culture. In the Netherlands, the Dutch government seems to exist primarily for the royal family. The existence and justification of the monarchy is based on pedigree supremacy and superior social standing. The biggest cheerleaders for the Dutch royals are the Dutch media and politicians, and there isn't a day that seems to go by without the royal family being in the news, in one positive form or another.
Ironically, the Dutch speak a lot about equality, but its culture is still rooted in a caste system. The king and the upper political-media class (what Thierry Baudet refers to as "the cartel") lecture the working class about "diversity" and "equality" while they praise refugees (and lobby the United Nations to import more). They put people against each other so the focus will be on race, not class. This is how the Dutch upper class seems to maintain its power over the working class. It's a modern form of "divide and conquer."
Several weeks later, after my return to the US, Angelique wrote me a letter stating that my father, Doede Bruinsma, and her mother, Rita Reitsma, had met each other and fallen in love. They were together for almost 20 years until my father died in 2005. Therefore I always considered my relationship with Angelique to be unique and special. Before seeing her, she had written me on Facebook and said she considered me her brother. It was an honor, but I was now tossed aside for the "corona uber alles" ideology. My sin was not drinking the Kool-Aid.
|After WWII Doede Bruinsma, as a young man, immigrated to Canada|
|Doede Bruinsma passed away in Franeker in 2005|
|Wijtse Vlietstra, also from Franeker, was a good friend of Doede Bruinsma|
|Franeker, home of Doede Bruinsma|
|De Eeuwige Bron book by Ayn Rand I gave Angelique in 1986|
|PC Franeker -- Kaatsen|
|Doede Bruinsma, kunsthandelaar van Franeker|
|Doede Bruinsma van Franeker met moeder Patricia in California|