Reprinted from the July 1966 issue of “The Braille Forum.”
(Editor’s Note: The following are excerpts from a letter circulated to friends by Brad and Ruth Burson. Brad will be remembered as being active in the founding of ACB and prior to that as a gallant and eloquent defender of democratic principles in organizations of the blind. For many years he has been employed as an atomic physicist at the Argonne National Laboratories near Chicago, and recently was sent to Holland on an exchange arrangement to teach his specialty.)
Dear Friends: On Thanksgiving we worshipped in a service for Americans held in Pieterskerk, Leiden, the Netherlands where the pilgrims lived for eleven years before embarking for the New World. After three months of living, working and going to school in “the garden of Amsterdam,” the whole experience still retains an aura of unreality; but as we adapt to a new way of life, we are finding much enjoyment in our widening vistas, growing impressions and new associations. …
Brad’s invitation from the Institute for Nuclear Physics Research in Amsterdam to collaborate for a year in their research program came in January, and in early March the Argonne administrators authorized him to accept. Needless to say, this created quite an upheaval in our ordinary pursuits and some ambivalent feelings while awaiting official confirmation by the Atomic Energy Commission. Linda announced that she really didn't want to take our trip with us because she thought she would miss kindergarten, but her real concern was losing out on the annual field trip to the pumpkin patch! Darrell’s friends secretly hoped that the A.E.C. would say no. But gradually we began to believe we were going and to attend to the myriad of details created by the prospect of a year away from home — passports, legal business, vaccinations and shots, packing, etc.
For a while life did go on as usual. … Our greatest distinction of the year came in June when Lawrence University of Appleton, Wis., conferred upon Brad the honorary degree of doctor of science. Not only was this an honor to be coveted, but an occasion that afforded us both lots of fun and excitement. Dr. Curtis Tarr, President of Lawrence, and Mrs. Tarr gave a formal dinner at the Country Club the evening before the commencement, and this invitation together with the prospect of a transatlantic voyage, offered ample excuse to acquire formal evening attire. Brad’s sister, Mary Johnson, was on hand to bask with me in reflected glory and several other friends came to Appleton to join in the festivities. …
Another major decision was whether to transport our seven-year-old station wagon or to go into debt to buy a foreign model. We just couldn’t see touring Europe with six people in a Volkswagen! Besides, in spite of its 94,000 miles, our Olds was ready-equipped for camping, provided home-to-port transportation, and we naively hoped that its size and weight might intimidate the maniacs behind the wheels over here! On the contrary, it has provided only a source of amusement and consternation among the natives, mostly because of what the Dutch refer to as our “two-man coffin” — i.e., our roof carrier is equipped with a rigid plywood cover. So far we have not regretted the decision, and by the time we get home the body will have rusted out from constant exposure even if the engine still runs.
The France, world’s longest “paquebot,” is indeed an elegant, luxurious ship. The five-day crossing, however, fell short of providing real rest and relaxation, especially since every five hours the clock was set ahead 15 minutes, with the result that lunch followed closely upon breakfast and it was forever later than it seemed. We all arose early to witness the docking in Southampton, and a few hours later it was impressive to watch the tugs completely rotate the 1035-foot vessel in the harbor at Le Havre. The next hour and a half were spent at the forward end of the boat deck, our cameras poised, waiting for the Detroit monster to emerge from the hatch as the giant cranes hoisted one car after another from hold to pier. We had decided to wait for only one more — and were rewarded with a wonderful movie of our car swinging through space. As we hurried back to main lounge, we were greeted with dismay by the impatient immigration officials and practically swept off the ship, the last passengers to disembark!
Through customs, the car re-loaded, we headed into town. Having practiced French with the ship personnel, Brad was bold enough to ask directions. The Frenchman sprang to his bicycle and with a wave of his arm, pedaled down the darkening streets, leading our way to the hotel De Normandie, then wheeled a wide arc and disappeared — a foreshadowing of the hospitality we have experienced the past three months. In fact, in our two-day sojourn from Le Havre to Amiens, Brussels, Antwerp and finally Amsterdam, we found people extremely kind and helpful. The rolling French countryside and small villages with narrow streets had a distinctly picture-book atmosphere. No sooner had we brushed up on our French and learned the value of French francs than we converted to Belgian francs, the guilders and the totally unfamiliar Dutch road signs and directions. We were again escorted to our canal-house hotel in Amsterdam where we spent a somewhat confused but interesting week punctuated with solving the immediate needs of housing, schooling and processing our baggage.
The Institute had considerately run a newspaper ad prior to our arrival, and it produced the house we now occupy. It was purely a stroke of good fortune that within two blocks a new secondary school was opening which, with a little reassurance, agreed to accept Loren and Craig, and similarly, that there was a nearby Montessori school happy to accept two American children, Darrell and Linda. Both schools are Dutch-speaking but do not follow the strict Dutch curriculum. Located in the conventional, modern suburb of Bussum, about 15 miles east of Amsterdam, our three-story house is the end unit of a row group and quite new. Beyond our most optimistic expectations, it includes central heating, hot water, electric stove and refrigerator, a semi-automatic washing machine, picture windows, drapes, even an open kitchen and patio. Most serious omission is a bathtub, which is all right if you prefer showers. Although rented as “furnished,” to say it was inadequate is something of an understatement. So one of our early escapades involved hunting down a secondhand dealer in the neighboring town of Hilversum which, it turned out, has a population of 100,000 and streets running every conceivable way. By the time we found him we had lost the car! (Ruth has since invented a little game called “let’s get lost now and see if we can find our way home.”) Again fortunately, Bussum and Amsterdam are connected by fast commuter train service. In 15 minutes I arrive at Muiderpoort station which is but a ten-minute walk from the Institute. The latter has about 230 employees and there are about a dozen in our nuclear spectroscope group. It is well equipped with excellent apparatus and shop facilities and has world-wide recognition among laboratories of its type. Although there is only one other American here at present, the majority of the people speak English so well that I am seldom aware of any language handicap. It is fun — working with and getting to know new people, planning and doing things with them in the framework of our common interests.
School schedules are quite different here. All the kids have school on Saturday mornings, but have various afternoons off. They all come home for a leisurely lunch, except Darrell when he’s taking Dutch lessons from his teacher. This chaotic schedule, plus the chauffeuring between the Montessori school 1.2 miles from home and the train station, leaves little opportunity to take off for the day, even to Amsterdam which has a tremendous appeal. However, we do make the most of those free afternoons. Contrary to all precedent in Holland, the October weather was magnificent, and the fact that November brought ice, and rain and biting wind really hasn't stopped us from trying to do and see as much as possible.
Before our Sunday jaunts were stymied by the incredible parades of traffic hamming the highways, we made the loop around the Ijsselmeer, formerly the Zuider Zee, one of the principal tourist routes in the area. It was fascinating to drive across the 18-mile enclosure dike which seals off a goodly fraction of Holland from the North Sea. The third Tuesday of September found us in The Hague. This is the traditional day on which Queen Juliana opens Parliament, and we managed to catch a glimpse of her in her golden coach and three of the princesses as they rode in the processional leaving the Binnenhof. On October 3, we went to Leiden to witness the festivities in celebration of that city’s liberation from the Spaniards in 1574. Brad and I had one wonderful day together in Rotterdam, lunching atop the 365-foot Euromast overlooking the world's busiest harbor but, of course, most of our evenings and outings center in and around Amsterdam, one of the most diversified and cosmopolitan cities in all Europe.
A brief school holiday in November provided an opportunity for a five-day swing into Germany. In Hamburg we obtained our new Leica, and I had a chance to take Ruth to dinner at Ratsweinkeller in the free city’s Parliament building. From there we drove via Autobahn to Frankfurt, Mainz and then up along the Rhine, stopping one night at the little wine-making village of Assmannshausen. We all had fun exploring and later, during dinner, listening to a group of students singing German folksongs. The next day we drove to the top of the famed Lorelei Rock. At Coblenz shortage of time forced us to switch back to Autobahn and from German back to Dutch.
What can we say about life and the people here? If you know “Alstubleift,” “Dank u wel” and “spreekt u Elgels?” you can get by. Almost everywhere someone speaks English. But we cannot say that things are not different, and anyone assuming a blasé facade about his European experiences is just kidding himself. There are problems. Living in a foreign land is challenging and stimulating but also sometimes frustrating and tinged with nostalgia. About the people, their warmth and acceptance, we can’t say too many complimentary things, and we can only hope that Americans would be as cordial and helpful to strangers as our Dutch friends have been to us.