The Belgian Version of “Roots”

By Rosanne Gulisano

Founder of Lifestories: Creating a

Memoir. Workshops to teach people how

to write their own life story. Contact at:

lifestories10@aol.com

When my mom was 74, we decided it was time for her and me to visit the Europe of her childhood. She had lived through World War I in Belgium and left that country in 1919 with her mother, father and older sister. She had not looked back her whole life. Mom came to America, learned the language, lost most of her accent, and buried her pierced earrings deep in her dresser drawer and started to coach her parents in English. She didn’t look back until after the age of 70 when she was a recent widow and had an urge to connect with her roots in Antwerp, Belgium.

The two of us had just taken a 10 day tour through Europe and enjoyed our three days in Paris as our tour ended.

Leaving the security of our trusty tour guide and fending for ourselves, we now focused on making our way to Brussels by train. After these three days in Paris, my mother’s long forgotten French came back to her just enough so she could read signs and menus and have basic communication with the Parisians. We took a taxi to the Gare du Nord, a Paris train station, where we took a few hour train trip to Brussels in a nifty little compartment, reminding me of an Agatha Christie novel.

Mom loved taking charge and I loved having someone who knew what she was doing! We spent a night and a day in Brussels in then went on to Antwerp where we were met by Cousin Jan, who was married to Raymonde, daughter of my mother’s uncle. Jan and Raymonde spoke very little English, but had us to their home for coffee later that evening. We met Frans and Danielle, their son-in-law and daughter, and their two tow-headed children. They were all eager to practice their English and my mom was having fun practicing her very rusty Flemish. The two kids were giddy with excitement about meeting the “Americans.”

Jan was a successful small business owner and was proud of his home and of the fact that they owned two automobiles. The house was small by our American standards and the cars were miniscule! There is something about meeting family members, even though we were all strangers that generate an instant connection. Our evening was charming and as Jan drove us to our hotel, we discussed our plans for the next day.

This “cousin-in-law” had arranged for an English speaking guide to show us around the town the next day. He was so thoughtful and kind! This was not an ordinary tour, it was personalized for Mom. Jan and Raymonde’s daughter, Danielle, who spoke a fair amount of English, was with us also.

I will never forget the magic of touring Mom’s old neighborhood as we saw the building where their small grocery store was located, with an apartment upstairs where her family lived. The store was closed up and neatly boarded. It was no longer a commercial building. The big Catholic Church stood nearby where Mom and her family attended Mass each Sunday. She had a flood of memories when we stood in the schoolyard of the place where she attended her first two years of school. For a moment, I am sure she returned to being that little girl with the big bow in her softly curled hair that appears in the old family photos.

Antwerp has old European charm juxtaposed against stark modernity. The city of Antwerp sustained major damage during two world wars, and the new section is modern and bustling. Many of the world’s diamonds are traded here.

In the old city center, the beautiful, Gothic cathedral is standing strong and proud in spite of being so seriously threatened by bombs and bullets during those terrible war years. My mother’s parents were married in the town hall and then in a ceremony in the cathedral, as is the custom in this mostly Catholic city. We enjoyed a few glasses of Belgian beer with our cousins as we sat in a sidewalk café. A few local cats thought nothing of lounging around our feet and even on the tables. No one seemed disturbed or offended. Part of the charm!

In the succeeding few days, we toured around the country, finally leaving Belgium after four more days and returning to our own USA. We were both tired of living out of a suitcase and missed our normal lives, but this shared experience with my mother is a memory I treasure. Something touched both of our souls as we returned to the country where our family roots are planted. It was indeed a special trip.