Chapter Ten (Part One)

Parents and Grandparents

This page describes my adoptive farmily (Bosch/Koelewyn) since I knew them very well (obviously). To read about my biological family (Stockwell/Dugger), click here. I never met my father or grandparents from my biological family; I did get to know my mother fairly well but I've come to understand much of what I was told was probably not as accurate as I was led to believe.

Here's the Bosch/Koelewyn family through the precious gift of adoption.

Mom (pictured above) was born on December 31, 2017, in Cleveland, Ohio, to Florence and William Koelewyn. From what I understand, she lived most of her life in Cuyahoga County, having moved from the near West side to North Olmsted when Mom and Dad built the house on Fitch Road.

I would describe my mother as being a challenging person to love. She was very opinionated and, at times, difficult to get along with. But, that makes her sound bad; she really wasn't. She just had her mind set on what life should look like and let people know in one way or another if they didn't live up to her expectations. If I had only three words to describe her, they would be: (1) unhappy, (2) stubborn, and (3) judgmental. Not a very pretty picture of her but those are the words that come to mind when I think of my mother.

I don't think I'm much like her although there have been times that I think of her when I catch myself acting unbecommingly. I've had to retract some things I've said and reword other thoughts before they left my lips due to her influence in my life. But, she also influenced me in good ways with her attention to detail, her love of entertaining, and her commitment to her family and church.

One of my favorite memories of my Mom was when I was a little girl. I remember being in awe as I watched her make each of us matching sundresses using her old Singer sewing machine. I remember her pinning the patterns onto fabric laid out on the kitchen table, cutting the material, and beginning to craft our matching dresses. They were yellow with black trim and black dots on them. I remember the first day we wore them; I was so proud! We walked from the house to the bus stop and waited for our ride to Fairview Shopping Center where we would purchase the week's groceries. Rather than riding the bus back home, Dad would meet us there on his way home from work, load the car, and drive us home. It was a sweet day and the memory of it I hold dear to my heart.

Dad was a character! He loved Mom so much; unfortunately, she knew how to press his buttons and hurt him. The difference in their personalities was evident to all who knew them. Even today, those who knew them closely find they have much fonder memories of Dad than Mom. Sad, but true!

Dad was born on the near West side of Cleveland, spending his childhood on West 87th Street. Some of his older siblings were born in Holland as were his parents and ancestors. Born on Christmas day in 1915, he was the youngest of seven children.

If I had to describe my dad in three words, they would be: (1) fun-loving, (2) a stranger to no one, and (3) a bit of a flirt. He had a special "wink" he would do catching people's attention. His nieces worked hard to replicate it ... it was all in fun!

Dad taught me how to have fun, joke around, and laugh. He taught me to love life! I'm not sure I'm much like my dad but, again, maybe I am in some ways. He was a special guy in so many ways; it broke my heart when he passed.

My mother's maiden name was Mildred Elizabeth Koelewyn. Her family was also from Holland – if you look at the family tree in Chapter Nine, you'll be able to tell where her family came from just by the names of her ancestors. Her mother's maiden name was Florence Simmelink (pictured at the head of this page).

Dad's mother's maiden name was Elizabeth Blockhuis, pronounced: "block house". Dad always said he was a chip off the old block! Her mother's maiden name was Heintje van den Hoorn ... I wouldn't know how to pronounce her first name.

Dad's father's name was Jan (pronounced "yon") Antonie Bosch. I was actually named after him but with the female version of Jan: Janet.

The story is that they met at a Church picnic when the West and East Side Christian Reformed Churches came together. Since they were mostly from Holland and had families that carried on many Dutch traditions, it wasn't unusual for a West Side girl and East Side boy to meet and fall in love.

Mom began work as a teen at the telephone company as an operator. (I have a photo somewhere!) After they married, she took a job at National Furniture in Cleveland. I remember visiting the warehouse with Mom and Dad a few times. It was an old building with a big old creepy elevator. Each floor was filled with furniture. Mom loved that place and most of their furniture came from there. They even bought my piano there, having it custom-made to match their living room furniture.

Dad started as a teen at Glidden Paint Company in Cleveland. He worked as a Supervisor in Shipping and Receiving and retired after 45 years of service. After leaving Glidden, he went to work at JCPenney in the electronics department. He was a great salesman since he never knew a stranger.

I always considered both Mom and Dad as talented in their own ways. Dad had a great voice and loved to sing and dance – anything to do with music. Mom was a meticulous homemaker and hostess, loving to prepare a beautiful table for her guests. She also had a great voice though I only heard her sing in church.

Dad left for the Philippines in WWII. This was a difficult time for them both since they were still newlyweds. Mom lived in a small apartment near her parents until Dad came home; they took an apartment together as their life together finally began to evolve.

Another of Dad's talents was cooking and grilling. He made the very best rotisserie chicken, barbeque ribs, and "snake" (steak). He used to freak me out telling me we were going to eat "snake" for dinner so I refused to eat! I think that was when I got really picky about steaks – they had to be tender, without gristle, and low fat. Of course, Dad ruined me for fish in a similar way. He told me he was frying fish eyes for supper and from that point on I couldn't and wouldn't eat fish. There's just something about those jokes that turned my stomach in such a way that it's lasted my entire life!

More than anything, however, Dad loved the water. Boating. Fishing. Skiing. Our family vacations always included a lake where we could swim and Dad could fish. We often vacationed with other close families or friends from church. My earliest memories of fishing took place in Michigan. We had a cabin and a pier right in front of the cabin where we could dock our rented boat, swim, and sunbathe. In my early teens, Dad bought a boat and decided we needed to try out the lakes in Canada: Stony Lake, Buckhorn Lake, and others I don't remember. I learned to water ski and worked hard until I could drop a ski and withstand some of the worst boat rides possible!

There was a time at Buckhorn Lake when the owner of the cabins (Paul Elsner) took us skiing in his boat with a powerful motor. We weren't married yet but spent a long weekend with my parents in their cabin. Paul took us out on his boat for a skiing adventure. And, let me tell you ... it was an adventure!! I got in the water and the boat took off. I was upright in no time, flying over the water! Sheer delight. Paul motioned for me to drop my ski but once I did, he thought he would have some "fun" which wasn't at all fun from my perspective! Back and forth over the wake, the boat continued to speed up in Paul's attempt at "fun". It wasn't long before I crashed hard in the water; he thought it was hilarious! I was so mad that he'd done that in front of my soon-to-be husband! Paul was known to do that to skiers; my dad could testify to that fact since he had been the brunt of Paul's shenanigans on a previous occasion!

It was that same weekend that we went on a guided fishing tour to do some serious fishing. After a morning of reeling in the big ones, we stopped on a small island for lunch. Our guide started a fire, cleaned some fish, and prepared some potatoes for frying. He had packed some side dishes in the cooler and set a table for us. While I didn't eat the fish (thanks, Dad!), I enjoyed the rest of the meal. My soon-to-be husband, however, devoured the fish and potatoes at a rate of speed equal to the boat on the recent skiing trip! He went back for more and more and more until Mom was embarrassed! She mentioned that event more than a few times during her life; she had never seen anyone eat as much as my soon-to-be husband did!

On that trip to Elsner's Lodge was when we first had onion and bacon sandwiches. Mr. Elsner cooked the thick-cut bacon in a cast iron skillet over an open fire and assembled everything on a hot dog bun with thick slices of sweet onion. Those were memorable sandwiches that I've never been able to replicate. There's just something about cooking over an open fire, lakeside in Canada!

Mom used to cook the best breaded veal. I loved it so much that it was my choice of meal on my birthdays. Breaded veal with mashed potatoes and cauliflower (with butter, breadcrumbs, and nutmeg). It was the BEST!

Unfortunately, I never met my grandparents except for one grandfather who died when I was very young. Surprisingly, I faintly remember Grandpa Koelewyn sitting in the captain's chair (the one with arms that goes with our dining room table) in our living room. He picked me up and put me on his lap; I remember him holding me and hugging me. Those big, strong hands reached into his pocket and pulled out a red billfold with white polka dots. He had tucked a dollar bill inside. I cherished that thing for years but sadly it just disappeared one day. I have no idea what happened to it. Anyway, he was the only grandparent I ever met.

Mom wasn't one to give advice ... she ordered instead. One thing I remember her reminding me of more than once was: "Be sure you wear clean underwear when you leave the house ... you don't know if you will be in an accident!"

Dad was always encouraging me to work hard and do better. I don't remember any specific advice he gave me but I knew I could count on him for encouragement.

Listening to me play piano was one of his favorite things. His work room in the basement was directly under where my piano was situated in the living room. He would often go down to "piddle around" in his workroom while I was practicing. Occasionally, he would come back upstairs to tell me he knew the song, wanted to sing to my accompaniment,s or instruct me on what it was supposed to sound like. But, mostly, he would make sure I knew he was listening and that he cared about my endeavors on the keyboard.

When I think of my growing up years, there is one woman who stands out as the one who loved me most, encouraged me most, and especially cared for me. Aunt Lu (Ludean M. Koelewyn) was Mom's youngest sister. She never married and worked most of her life at Hale & Hale Insurance in downtown Cleveland. Her office was in the Old Arcade, an amazing structure that connected Euclid and Superior Avenues.

You could walk through the Arcade and take in the sights, smells, and sounds. Specialty shops lined the ground floor. The upper levels were filled with offices of every kind. The roof was made of glass. I remember the toy store on the lower level owned by Mr. Corey who lived next to us on Fitch Road. The little store had every toy you could imagine including the most fascinating marionettes. The Corey girls had several marionettes in their basement; Mr. Corey had built a stage where they would perform for us with them. I always believed no other kid in North Olmsted had such a stage with such neat toys!

I loved meeting Aunt Lu for lunch (often at Stouffer's) when I worked downtown. Later in life, her favorite restaurants were Gene's Place at Kamm's Corner and any Bob Evans! She loved the raspberry crepes! She loved my husband and my family; she was such a delightful breath of fresh air considering she was my mother's sister! She would listen to my problems, allow me to vent about my Mom, and not make me feel like I was a bad person for sharing my true feelings. She was every bit of a mother to me as my Mom. I don't know what I would have done without my precious Aunt Lu!

To read about my biological family (Stockwell/Dugger), click here.