Vans and Zwoons

Autumn winds blew across the Rhine River and through the city of Utrecht, stripping leaves from the branches of trees. Netherlanders prepared for winter in many different ways. They threw woold sweaters over their bodies and placed extra logs in the fireplace.
At Jani’s house, they huddled under extra bedding. Mrs. Van der Veld placed a quilt on everyone’s bed. Up in the loft, Jani stayed warm, even though wind whistled outside his window. Every night, Ajax found a spot next to his master.
When the wind howled, Ajax popped his head up, scouting out the attic. On this particular night, Ajax frequently disturbed Jani from a good night’s rest. Looking out his window, Jani saw the lights from the Tulip House. He climbed out of bed and went down to the Tulip House, accompanied by his faithful terrier.
“What are you doing awake?” she asked.
“Ajax kept jumping on and off my bed.”
“Why not put him down here for the night?”
“Whenever I lock him in his cage, he whimpers all night long.”
“Let me fix us a late night snack. As your Great Grandma Gertrude used to say, ‘the best cure for a sleepless night is a full tummy.”
Mrs. Van der Veld pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. She turned on the stove and cracked the eggs into a skillet. As the eggs fried, she buttered four pieces of bread. On two pieces, she placed a piece of cold ham. She placed two slices of Gouda cheese on the other pieces.
“In a few minutes, we can sit in the Tulip House and eat some Uitsmijter with a glass of milk.”
She slid half the eggs from the skillet onto each of the cheese-topped slices of bread. Jani fetched dill pickles from the refrigerator.
“Can’t forget these.”
Jani folded the sandwich halves together as his mother poured a tall glass of milk.
“You’re not going to have any milk?” he asked.
“I have some coffee in the garden.”
They carried their plates up to the Tulip House. Jani placed his milk glass on the reading table and balanced his plate on his lap as he sat down in one of the rocking chairs. Mrs. Van der Veld sat in the other. Ajax stretched out between Jani and his mother. The fox terrier watched as the Uitsmijter traveled from the plates to each person’s mouths. He got up and walked around the chair legs, sniffing and licking at the ground.
Jani finished his late night snack and relaxed in the chair.
“Have a honingdrop coin,” said mother as she offered a plate of coin-shaped biscuits to her son. He broke of a chunk of the biscuit and dropped it on the floor. Ajax snatched the scrap from the ground. Cleaning his teeth as he licked his lips.
“You’ll be sorry you did that,” said mother.
“I know,” said Jani. Jani dropped another biscuit bit onto the ground. Ajax quickly snatched it in his mouth and begged for more.
“Are you feeling better now?” asked mother.
“I think so,” replied Jani. He gathered his dirty dishes as he got out of his chair.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it when I go to bed.”
“Dank u, moeder,” he said, then asked how long she would stay awake.
“Not much longer.”
“Goede Avond,” said Jani.
“Goede Avond,” replied Mrs. Van der Veld.
Jani and his dog clambered up the stairs and collapsed in bed. The winds subsided, which meant a restful sleep for boy and dog. Ajax curled into a ball, his back pressed against Jani’s bag. For Jani, the most reassuring thing about being in his bedroom was not being alone. His dog was all the warmth he needed.
Late into the morning, a knock at the door stirred them from sleep. Mrs. Van der Veld opened the door for Ajax. He ran down both sets of stairs, waiting at the front door.
Mrs. Van der Veld let the dog outside to do his business. Ajax returned, galloping up to the attic, where he jumped into bed with Jani. A cold breeze followed the dog into the bed. An even colder nose poked at Jani’s face.
“Quit it!” Jani pushed Ajax off the bed. Ajax jumped back onto the bed, wagging his tail excitedly and shaking the entire bed. “Cold nose, warm heart,” thought Jani. He hugged the terrier then shooed him out of bed so he could get ready for breakfast. Mrs. Van der Veld was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Trudy sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Jani.
“How many pancakes would you like?” asked mother.
“Three,” he replied.
“How about you Trudy?”
“Just one, please.”
“I also think I’ll have just one,” said Mrs. Van der Veld.
She fried up five pancakes and served them at once, sitting with her children for breakfast. Like all Dutch pancakes, she added something extra to the batter. Today, it was chopped apple and walnut.
“How was your sleep?” asked mother.
“I slept well.”
She glanced down at her feet, “And how was your sleep Ajax?” Upon hearing his name, the dog perked his ears.
“What happened last night?” asked Trudy.
“There were noises in the loft, so we came downstairs for a little bit. We had Uitsmijter and milk.
“I love Uitsmijter,” replied Trudy.
“That reminds me,” said Mrs. Van der Veld, “Jani, would you run some errands after breakfast?”
“What do you need?” asked Jani.
“Mrs. Van Heeswijk and I planned to meet for tea and sweetbread. While we talked on the phone yesterday, I invited Rolf over. One thing led to another and we decided to have Koffeetaffel.”
“Are we having a party?” asked Trudy.
“Maybe just a party for us,” said mother, “here’s a grocery list.”
Jani looked over the list.
“It looks like I’ll have to make two stops,” he said.
“You can go to the market first, then drop by the Bake Shop.”
Jani stacked his dirty dishes in the sink and rinsed the syrup from his hands. He went to the coat rack and put on his jacket and cap. Ajax wagged his tailed excitedly.
“Not this time boy,” said Jani. He got on his bike and drove it across town to the market.
He rode along the cobblestone, passing fishing boats floating in the canals beside him. Up ahead, a fishing boat approached the bridge he would have to cross. He raced the boat to the bridge, but did not get there in time.
The fishing boat approached the bridge. The draw bridge lifted, blocking Jani’s way over the canal. He waited at the bridge, while the drawbridge operator, Mr. Ericson, moved the levers to operate the bridge. The drawbridge went up, the fishing boat went through. The drawbridge came down and across the bridge went Jani.
He pulled up to Janssen’s Market, locking his bike. He unfolded the paper from his pocket and read through the list.
Potato Chips
Chip Dip
Cheese Puffs
One Gallon Milk
One Kilo Each:
- Gouda
- Edam
- Salami
Mustard
Macaroni Salad
One Loaf Each
- Rye Bread
- Oat Bread

He checked items off the list as he placed them in the basket, skipping anything he could pick up at the Bake Shop. He stopped at the delicatessen. Mr. Janssen stood behind the counter, operating the meat cutter.
“Goede Morgen, Jani!” he called out
“Hallo Mr. Janssen!”
“What can I do you for?”
Jani read off the list of cheeses and meats. Mr. Janssen filled his order, cutting and weighing each item before wrapping it in deli paper and placing it on the counter for Jani.
“Is there anything else?”
“I think that will do,” said Jani.
Mr. Janssen nodded, then helped another customer.
Jani loaded the groceries into the basket on the back of his bike and sped across town to Mr. Anderssen’s Bake Shop. Jani locked his bike outside the shop and went in through the front door. The bells jangled against the door. As he stood behind the counter, Mr. Anderssen greeted Jani with a smile.
Jani selected two loaves of fresh bread. Jani also bought a pack of licorice for Trudy and added two dozen cinnamon covered Olieballen for everyone else.
“One for the road?” asked Mr. Anderssen.
Jani nodded.
The old man handed an Olieballen across the counter. Jani popped the doughnut ball into his mouth. The cinnamon coating melted in his mouth. As he chomped down on the Olieballen, banana cream burst out from the inside of the doughnut. Jani smirked. Mr. Anderssen plucked another from the shelf and popped it into his own mouth, enjoying one of his masterpieces.
Jani hurried home, only to find that the house was already busy with activity. In addition to Rolf and Mrs. Van Heeswijk, the men were building something in the workshop. Everyone but Mr. Van Heeswijk and Mr. Van der Veld helped prepare Koffietaffel, a lunch buffet of cold cuts, cheese, and rolls.
Jani and Rolf set up a place to eat in the Tulip House, carrying chairs up to the second floor and placing them around the long table. Trudy helped with the dishes and silverware and then the boys retrieved the serving platters from the kitchen.
Mrs. Van der Veld knocked on the workshop door. Mr. Van der Veld’s head poked out to see who was in the hallway.
“Koffietafel’s ready,” she said.
“We’ll be up in a moment,” he replied before closing the door again.
They gathered around the table while Mrs. Van Heeswijk said a blessing. Everyone walked around the long table, building sandwiches on their plates with cheese and cold cuts. Dishes were completed with side dishes and snack foods before everyone sat down for a hearty lunch.
“Where did you get the pepperoni and salami?” asked Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“Mr. Janssen’s Market.”
“He sells some of the best cold cuts.”
“The bread is good, too.”
“I picked that up at Anderssen’s Bake Shop,” replied Jani.
“I love his dessert cakes,” said Trudy.
They continued enjoying their meal, courtesy of Mr. Janssen and Mr. Anderssen. Jani thought about the drawbridge, too.
“Janssen, Anderssen, Ericson,” Jani said out loud.
“What, dear?” said his mother.
“I was just thinking about Mr. Janssen, Mr. Anderssen, and Mr. Ericson.”
“What about them?” asked Trudy.
“Everyone’s name ends with a son.”
“That’s from the old days,” said his mother.
“What do you mean?”
“In the old days, names were handed down from generation to generation, based on a father’s name. At first, they called themselves names like Mr. Ericzwoon, meaning Eric’s son. In time, it just became Ericson.”
“I should be Gilbertson?” said Jani.
“Exactly.”
“My pop’s name is Rolo, so I should be Rolf Rolosson.” said Rolf.
“They’re all spelled differently, though,” said Jani.
“Different families spelled their last names for many reasons. Sometimes brothers fought over things. Sometimes people couldn’t spell that well. Sometimes they just chose to spell it differently,” said Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
“Then what does Vander mean?” asked Jani.
“It means of the,” she replied.
“Jani of the Veld.”
“The field,” replied his mother.
“There are lots of fields around here. Which one is mine?” asked Trudy.
“It was just a name for one of your ancestors. Maybe he worked in a field.”
“What’s a Heeswijk?” asked Rolf.
“I keep asking myself that,” said Mrs. Van Heeswijk.
Everyone had a laugh, which dwindled down to a collection of snickers and giggles as Mr. Van Heeswijk and Mr. Van der Veld came up the steps.
“What’s so funny?” asked Mr. Van Heeswijk.
“What’s a Heeswijk?” asked Rolf.
“If you don’t know by now…” said Mr. Van Heeswijk with a smirk.
“I’m serious. We were talking about name origins.”
“Names came from all sorts of places,” replied Mr. Van der Veld, “It could mean your job, like “Fisher” or your stature, like “Stout” or who your father was.
“That’s exactly what we were talking about,” replied Jani, “Why aren’t I Jani Gilbertson?”
“Very soon, everyone had different last names. I would be Mr. Randolfssen and you’d be Mr. Gilbertson. How would anyone know we were from the same family 10 years from now?”
“Oh, I get it. When did they start doing it that way?”
“Probably during the middle ages, when the Dutch traders began traveling to far off places, like Indonesia and Central America.”
“It just made sense to stick to one name,” said Mr. Van Heeswijk.
Gilbert’s son and Rolo’s son and Mr. Randolf’s son and Miss Gilbert’s Daughter carried on through lunch, talking and laughing about their “Sir Names” and enjoying their Koffietafel together, Van der Velds and Van Heeswijks.