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A PERSONAL NOTE







A Study in Thought






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by





Marius Heuff

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Chapter 1




The origins of the family I came from.
An illustration of the concept of "less deserving heirs".
Where my parents met.
My entry into the world.
I barely survived my first few years.
A turbulent childhood.
A haphazard period of primary schooling.
A very good time after WWII in Thailand.
We probably owed our lives to the atomic bombs dropped on Japan.
Life in Holland after the war.
My own development was rather uneventful.
A shy and reflective personality.
A long-standing fascination with the piano.
My admiration for the Rumanian pianist; Dinu Lipatti.
Only later, I understood the secret of his remarkably sonorous piano-playing.
Why I never developed a sound foundation for playing the piano.
A neurotic blockage that coloured my personality for the rest of my life.
A lack of guidance, discipline and self-discipline.




1          My father came from a well-established and relatively well-to-do family in the heartland of the "Betuwe", a region of fertile farmlands lying in between the great rivers in Holland, also called the Netherlands. The largest part of this small country has been built-up as a delta by the great rivers emptying into the North Sea; the Rhine, the Waal, (a branch of the Rhine) and the Maas. As is usually the case with well-established families, the family fortunes are jeopardised by less deserving heirs who come into a position of affluence through inheritance. Apparently, my father's father was such an individual and squandered his inheritance and lost the family homestead. As a result, my father and his sister were left penniless. My father's sister had already married a fruit-farmer, but my father was left high and dry during his University studes. He borrowed money from his brother in law and completed his studies at the Agricultural Academy in Wageningen, Holland.


2          My father's sister and her husband had bought a substantial fruit-farm in the village of Elst, also in the Betuwe, but more easterly from Zoelen, or Tiel, where my father's family came from. My father's sister and her husband lived in Lent, and also bought property there; a village somewhat to the South of Elst and situated just across from Nymegen; a city on the other side of the Waal, and lying outside the Betuwe. Nymegen is an old city dating back to Roman times, when it was called Novio-magum or "new market". In Lent, the village just across the bridge over the Waal, north of Nymegen, my mother's parents lived. My maternal grandfather was an architect and my mother was a primary school teacher. My parents met in the late twenties, a period of high unemployment as a result of the Great Depression.


3          After their marriage, they moved to the Dutch East Indies, a colony of Holland and a common place for people to go to, if they could not find work at home. Here, my father worked in the sugar-industry, where he did well and seemed to have loved his work. My mother was less happy, however, because she felt lonely and isolated in such a plantation community, because she was used to go to concerts; she loved classical music and played the piano. My father, too, was fond of classical music and played the violin. I do not know, whether or not this was the bond that led to their marriage, but I do know that their marriage was not particularly happy, because they differed a great deal in temperament. My father had become a rather shy, introvert but hard-working individual, very reflective, but also, somewhat timid; avoiding controversies as much as possible, and not much in tune with my mothers personality, which was restless, somewhat snobbish but quite vivacious.


4          After a number of years in the Dutch East Indies, now called Indonesia, working on the main island of Java, the sugar industry also shut-down almost completely, and my parents moved back to Holland for a few years, "waiting-out" the depression. My father was "laid-off" but he was paid a small retainer while waiting for better times to come. Soon after they arrived back in Holland I was born on March 7 1934 in a hospital in Nymegen, while my parents were staying in Lent. Two years later, they went back to Indonesia because the Depression was mitigating somewhat. Apparently, I contracted malaria on the way back and suffered from a chronic, recurrent type of malaria till I was about six or seven years old. Fortunately, the first anti-malarial drugs had become available, and I remember having to take quinine and atebrine. Just about the time the second World War broke out, I had overcome this disease. If I had not been so fortunate, it would have been unlikely that I would have survived the period of internment in the Japanese concentration camps which followed from about 1941 to 1945.


5          The period of early childhood was unsettled. Social and economic conditions were turbulent in the aftermath of the Great Depression and the gathering of the storm-clouds of war. My parents moved around a lot, and soon after I entered the period of formal schooling, all European people were placed in concentration camps by the Japanese to whom the Dutch had surrendered without much of a fight. My father was called-up for war-duty, shortly before the Japanese invasion, and spent most of his time in a prisoner of war camp in Thailand, working on the infamous Burma railroad. He became quite ill and suffered permanent damage as a result of a lack of proper foods and vitamins, but he survived, be it with permanent difficulties with his balance and vision. My mother, my sister, (about four years younger), and I were kept in camps for women and children, and I spent a crucially important period of childhood in these camps; from age seven to eleven.


6          My mother was able to continue my schooling at least to some extent, and I lost only two years out of the four. In addition, I had started school a year early, because my mother had already begun teaching me at the age of five, as I seemed often to have been bored because of a lack of something to do. My sister also survived the period of internment in the Japanese concentration camps. We were re-united with my father shortly after the war, after we were brought to Thailand; awaiting an opportunity to be repatriated to Holland. I have fond memories of this time, because my parents were able to spend part of this waiting time in a small sea-side resort, with beautiful beaches; a paradise for youngsters to play.


7          Fortunately, my health had remained surprisingly good during the lean years of chronic starvation in the camps. While I do not remember any particular incidences of harsh treatment and atrocities towards the women and children, the food was totally inadequate. There was virtual no medical attention, and most people believed that the Japanese were engaged in a deliberate policy of starving the European population to death, just as the food-supply and medical facilities for the prisoners of war lacked any measure of decency or adequacy. We always contributed our survival to the sudden capitulation of Japan after the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and, together with the countless soldiers whose lives were spared as a result of the sudden end of the war, I have always accepted the notion that this horrible weapon of mass-destruction saved as many lives as it took.


8          After several months waiting in Thailand, we were repatriated by boat to Holland and came to live in Lent; first, with my aunt and uncle; my fathers sister and her husband, but, within a few months my parents were able to rent the upper story of a house occupied by a ninety-one year old lady. Later, my parents, together with my fathers sister and her husband, were able to buy this same property, which was a duplex; two fully independent houses under one roof. Both houses had been divided into upper and lower appartments as a result of a scarcity of living accomodation.


9          My parents had lost everything as a result of the war and came back to Holland with only the clothes on their backs. To what extent they were assisted by the government, the company that employed my father for so long, and to what extent they had to earn their keep, I do not really know. I know, that my mother went to work, fairly soon after coming to Holland as a primary school teacher. My father had a harder time finding work, primarily, because of his rather poor health, but also, because of the fact that the type of work he had done in Indonesia was not really applicable in Holland. After all, Holland did not have a significant sugar industry, and the sugar that was manufactured came from beets, and not from the sugar-cane that provides sugar in the tropical climates.


10        Yet, my father was able to find employment, be it mostly of a temporary nature. He worked for a while as a teacher in organic chemistry on a high-school, and he also corrected correspondence courses at home. My own development was rather uneventful. I was placed in the last class of the primary school on my return to Holland, being only one year older than the average pupil, and I never had any difficulties learning. As a matter of fact, I learned so easily, throughout the entire period of formal schooling, that I never learned to "work" at it. My parents gave me a great deal of freedom and I was able to do what I wanted, as long as it did not cost any money, because there was not much money to go around. I was generally a shy and introvert individual, always aware of myself. I nearly always "saw myself behave", but I do not remember ever getting into serious difficulties, or, even, getting into fights. I was never "picked-on", but I was never a leader either. I preferred company with one or two friends, rather than a larger group, and I was fascinated with the piano.


11        However, my piano-studies reflected the generally lax and undisciplined approach which my parents took to my education and up-bringing. Probably, they were already quite happy that I never gave them "much trouble", but, as a result, I never learned or understood the importance of a well-guided, disciplined approach to the study of the piano. Yet, I had a good ear for the beauty of the music that could be made with this instrument, but I had to teach myself, by and large, how to play, since my teacher also let me "potter around" without much guidance. All through high-school I struggled, in a rather benign and partially subconscious manner, with the problem that I was not satisfied with the sounds I could produce on the piano, because my accomplishments were now outstripped by the talents and skills of a "super-ego image"; represented by a remarkably proficient artist who enjoyed a short but well-publicized career as a pianist. This was the Rumanian pianist Dinu Lipatti, who died at the age of thirty-three from leukemia, just as his career started to take off. He died in December of 1950, when I was just sixteen and I had just "discovered" him through a broad-cast of the Grieg piano-concerto.

 

12        Certainly, we all choose our heroes at this age, and my hero was Dinu Lipatti. What I did not understand at the time, was the secret of his remarkably sonorous piano-playing. Later, I realised that his illness had forced him to concentrate on a very small repertoir, and he choose, (probably deliberately, and partially as a result of the circumstances), to hone this small repertoir to perfection, allowing him to capture the imagination of the public and the critics. Indeed, the Grieg and Schumann piano-concertos were marvels of performance. However, this emphasis on sonority also gave his playing a somewhat "heavy feel", which was not always quite successful, but, at the time, of course, I could not see, nor did I wanted to hear, any such criticisms or considerations of a trade-off between a certain effect produced on an instrument, and, the necessary limitations associated with it.


13        Throughout high-school, I dreamt of a career in music, and, specifically, to become a professional pianist, but, my pre-occupation with the sonority of the instrument prevented me from developing a more carefree and general approach to the playing of this instrument. I became so pre-occupied with a few master-pieces for the piano, that I neglected to develop a solid foundation of "dexterity". I failed to play a lot of essentially "easier music", and, as a result I failed to develop the ability to sight-read. I also failed to become "handy" in the more popular forms of music, and as a result, I never enjoyed the ability to "entertain" on a party, but I occasionally "performed" a more difficult piece for the piano on a school-concert. However, my dissatisfaction with my own playing, and the bad habit of never been able to finish the playing of a piece of music without stopping and repeating the mistakes I had made, resulted in a severe "neurotic blockage", which has coloured my personality for the rest of my life.


14        Only slowly, did I realise what was wrong. In the beginning, I did not understand why I could not proceed on the road towards mastering the more difficult techniques of playing the piano, especially, since I was not adverse to practicing diligently a lot of technical problems. The absence of guidance, here, made me concentrate, far too soon, on a few aspects of piano-playing, while neglecting to build-up a solid foundation of skills and insights that would have been essential, if I would decide to make a career of it. I stagnated, and my social surroundings probably gave-up, or never really tried to make me understand what was wrong. By this time, I may well have been pig-headed enough not to listen to sound advise, but, I believe that I was essentially very eager to learn. I never encountered someone who told me outright what my problem was and had the force of personality to tell me that I should become much more disciplined and versatile; if I was to have any chance of following a professional career, or, even, just a professional training like a conservatorium.



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Chaper 2




A period of rather extensive "day-dreaming".
At the end of high-school I abandoned any ideas about becoming a professional musician.
My studies at the University of Utrecht.
A remarkably casual approach to intellectual studies.
The ability to retain essentials after a single or even somewhat superficial exposure.
I had a good time in Utrecht.
The remarkable development of the vinyl LP record and the availability of a large classical repertoir.
How and when I started collecting records.
My records are still in excellent condition.
I never was an adventurous personality.
How I met my future wife, and how we began to plan our immigration.
Remarkably smooth and quick developments.
I repeated medical exams without having to go to Medical School.
My unconventional studying techniques came in good stead.




1          In stead, I retreated into "day-dreaming" about the time when I would be able to play the beloved master-pieces to perfection, while not progressing one iota. By the time I finished high-school or "gymnasium", (a demanding course including many subjects, such as French, German and English, Dutch of course, mathematics and the sciences, but also Latin and Greek), I had abandoned any idea of becoming a professional musician. More or less by accident, and the good services of a perceptive teacher, I acquired a small scholarship and was able to begin my studies at the University of Utrecht at the faculty of medicine. In Holland, and, probably, in the rest of Continental Europe, we do not have the system of a "pre-medical training" followed by a medical school, but the entire training is carried-out at a university, and completed with a two year "internship at a university hospital", after five or six years of academic studies.

 

2          I learned easily, but never gave much effort to my studies. As a matter of fact, I was essentially bored with most lectures, but I scraped by. I attended very few of the classes and only a minimum requirement of the various "labs". As a result I had to "cram" for examinations, but I learned how to study from my English text-books. This came in good stead when I immigrated to Canada; after having completed the academic and theoretical training at the University in Utrecht. I immigrated to Canada, before I had begun any of the practical training at the university hospitals. In contrast with my pre-occupation to details or a specific aspect in the art of playing the piano, my intellectual studies were performed extremely haphazardly. Fortunately, I could retain at least the essentials of nearly any topic by a single and even somewhat superficial exposure, and my "flair" for grasping a summary overview was helpful in those examinations, where the "essay question" on paper, or the oral examination by a number of examinators, was geared towards testing an overall comprehension, rather than the depth of detailed knowledge.


3          I had a good time in Utrecht. I was never rowdy, nor were any of my friends, but we had plenty of good discussions about everything under the sun. Yet, our interests were somewhat introverted, geared towards the arts rather than any political concerns. Besides, there were few if any serious political concerns. We were living through an era of rapid expansion. People were generally grateful for having lived through the war and being given the opportunity to rebuild their lives. The rapid economic expansion also meant, that the problem of finding a job was never really seriously considered; certainly not for such a prestigious occupation as being a physician. Certainly, in Holland, it was customary to buy a practice, if one wanted to begin a general practice after completing one's medical training, and we were too far removed from the world of specialised medicine to give it any consideration. Indeed, the circle of friends I belonged to had virtually no contacts with the world of medicine, because none of us had family or parents who belonged to the medical profession.


4          Certainly, not all of us were following the courses at the faculty of medicine. Some of my friends were historians, or were taking art-courses, or some other less well defined topic of study, but we all were essentially content people. We were looking forward to the future and never encountered any serious problems. In retrospect, it was remarkable, how little we heard about crimes compared to the later periods of post-war social developments. Indeed, the immedate post-war era, even in Europe, was characterised by a great deal of latent or hidden contentment, as people were generally satisfied with the rapid opening-up of opportunities, together with the fascinating development of all kinds of economic and technological devices. Because of my interest in classical music, and, especially, piano music, the era of the long-play record was a central factor in our attention. It allowed all of us with an ear for music to get to know a large variety of artistic works to an extent that had never been possible before. In addition, the governments of post-war Europe subsidised cultural acitivities generously. Therefore, it was never expensive to go to a concert, and the costs of tuition for the students were only a fraction of the actual costs associated with an academic education.


5          Indeed, these were happy times. The cost of a long-playing record was still very high, however, and the acquisition of these remarkable records was done very carefully and diligently, but I have spent many hours marveling at the skills of competent artists, especially, pianists. Naturally, I had already begun to collect the records made by Dinu Lipatti when I was still in high-school. These recordings were made during the era preceding the long-play records and his performances were issued on "shellac platters" that could contain at the most six minutes of music and turned at a speed of 78 revolutions per minute. Soon, however, a longer duration record was issued, but the format of the long-play record became only established after the speed of 33 and 1/3 revolution per minute was widely adopted, together with the sapphire and diamond needle or stylus, and, eventually, the magnetic cartridge.


6          My interests were nearly exclusively musical, and I never spent much money on the very expensive hi-fi equipment that came out, year and year. I was perfectly happy with a simple turn-table, a ceramic cartridge and a sapphire needle, playing my records over a simple radio receiver; but later, when my financial situation allowed it, I became also more interested in obtaining the best possible play-back from my records. As I mentioned before, nearly all the records I bought are still in such a good condition that they can be played satisfactorily on my most recent equipment. A great deal of attention to eliminating surface noise has convinced me that the best LP's are just as good in reproducing sound as the CD. Certainly, modern recording techniques have made it possible to obtain a clarity of sound that was just not available with the older analogue equipment that was used to make the primary recordings from which the long-play records were cut.


7          I was not an adventurous individual. As I mentioned, I rarely if ever got into a scrape or a fight. I do not remember ever breaking the law through pranks or any other deliberate act, but I may have broken the law inadvertently or through oversight. I was also not very adventurous when it came to meeting the opposite sex. I preferred to admire a girl from a distance, rather than risk making any contacts with her. Certainly, as I grew older, I become more confident of myself but I never had any significant bond with a girl, until I met the girl who became my wife. Very conventionally, I met her at a graduation party at the home of one of my best friends of primary and high-school; about four years after my own graduation. I attended a public primary school and high-school in Nymegen, because it was only a ten minute ride on the bike across the bridge. The party was in honour of the recent graduates from a Catholic high-school, and my future wife was a girlfriend of my friend's sister. Very conventional, but, we got along well.


8          About the same time that I met her, I had begun to think about the future, and I was playing with the idea of immigrating to Canada. I do not exactly know what the reasons were for these thoughts. They were certainly not inspired by any fears about the ability to get a job or make a living. I remember that other concerns were playing a role; e.g., the sense of crowding and over-crowding; the lure of wide-open spaces, and the vague but threatening atmosphere that was such a prominent feature of the "cold war". Once I started in motion the process of seriously inquiring about the possibilities for immigrating to Canada, things went very smoothly and quickly indeed. I had no difficulties getting accepted. I found a number of hospitals in British Columbia which were willing to sponsor me as an "extern". My fiancee was all for it, because she had already made inquiries about going to the United States. We were quickly accepted by Canada after a health check, and we found ourselves on our way to Canada, a few days after we got married, and a few days after I had completed my university studies in Utrecht.


9          Our honeymoon was a trip into the unknown. I knew that my academic studies at the university of Utrecht would not be recognised by Canada, because of the marked differences between the educational systems of Great Britain and Canada on the one hand, and, the systems in use on Continental Europe to which Holland belonged. Besides, people from Continental Europe would speak English only as a second language, and it was logical, therefore, that I would have to repeat my medical examinations and provide proof of my knowledge and education to the authorities in Canada. However, I did not have to attend classes at a medical school or university, and I could just register for a series of examinations that would test the proficiency of "foreign students". These tests were designed to test the "basic knowledge", as well as the command over the English language, and these tests were conducted, primarily, in the form of "multiple choice questions".


10        Using multiple choice questions allows examiners to standardise their evaluations of students, and, indeed, it would be, at the same time, a good test for the comprehension and language skills of the candidates. Therefore, after our arrival in Victoria, BC, I became first an "extern". This meant, that I would be doing some work in a laboratory without actually being responsible for the medical care of patients. Here, I was able to familiarise myself with the language and I learned to speak it fluently within a short period of time. At the same time, my "habit" of learning from text-books rather than from attending lectures, came in handy, and I was able to pass all but one of the subjects of the examination in the "basic sciences" after about a year. I failed the subject of pharmacology, primarily, because I had never studied this subject before. Pharmacology was left to the last phase of practical studies in the hospital. However, in addition, I have to say, also, that this subject was approached rather poorly in Utrecht, and, as a result, I was not even familiar with the most fundamental classification of the many different pharmacological agents that play such a dominant role in the study and practice of medicine.




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Chapter 3




A look at our immigration to Canada.
Differences in medical training between Holland and Canada.
The trip to Victoria B.C.
A remarkable first ten years in Canada.
Ambitious plans to continue my education at the MNI.
How a misunderstanding led to my acceptance.
The Montreal Neurological Institute.
A training that was heavily weighted towards "seizure surgery".
For the first time, I had to really work hard in order to learn at a rapid pace.
In 1969 I became a Fellow of the Royal College; the highest degree in the specialty of neurosurgery.
A look back at my bout with acute tuberculosis at the end of my stay in Victoria.
My health held-out well in Montreal.
My work-scedule as an intern and resident.
A brief look at our family.



1          My wife and I immigrated to Canada in March 1959. The pace of developments had accelerated considerably ever since I met her, about two years before, and, especially, after we had formulated plans to emigrate. The time of "playing around" at the university was over. I had to get my "doctoral degree" as soon as possible. This degree was the last university examination, opening the way to the final period of clinical training, and it also opened the way, in Holland, to a "promotion", or a PhD, with the writing of a thesis. We do not have the equivalent of a "masters degree", so far as I know. There is indeed the equivalent of a "bachelor's degree", which is, in essence, a confirmation of the fact that the student is able to follow a university study.

 

2          While I was preparing for the final university examinations, we had to get ready for the move to Canada and since my entrance into Canada depended on obtaining this final degree, there was a considerable degree of pressure to "make it". Certainly, I could have immigrated to Canada without this degree, but this would have made me uneligible for the series of examinations that repeated, in essence, the entire medical curriculum. Fortunately, all went well, but a few days before we left my wallet was stolen at the university, as I was taking my examinations. I do not remember exactly what was in it, but I lost my passport, and other important documents, which had to be renewed in a hurry. We left from Schiphol in the evening of March 26 for an overnight flight towards Goose Bay, Labrador, where the plane refueled and went-on to Montreal. There we took the train for a three-day trip to Victoria B.C.


3          We did not even have time for a farewell party, and I invited all my friends from Utrecht to join us in the lobby of the air-port. Indeed a large gathering of people was there to see us off. We also married for the State a few weeks before the actual wedding in the Church, because we needed the proper documents for our immigration. While the months before the trip to Canada had already been hectic, the pace was sustained upon our arrival. Fortunately, we met a kind Dutch family upon our arrival in Victoria, because, for one reason or another, the party who was supposed to meet us at the ferry terminal was not there. We found our way to the local parish, and there, the janitor took us in, as soon as he heard that we were from Holland. He had emigrated from Holland several years earlier and had a large family where we felt quite at home. Soon, I started my "externship" at one of the local hospitals, and my wife earned a few extra dollars by cleaning houses for other people.


4          The ten years from 1959 to 1969 were indeed remarkable. Within this period I was able to repeat the medical examinations that allowed me access to a licence to practice medicine. The first one was the "basic sciences examination" I mentioned before. I failed pharmacology, but I was able to repeat it six months later, and this gave me access to the internship program. I learned a lot, because I did not have any exposure to the clinical training before, but, once again, the learning process was essentially haphazard. It depended on learning from practice; from the advise I got here and there; from seeing what other people were doing, and, from observing what was going-on in a hospital. The pace remained hectic, because the internship program was only one year in stead of the two years in Holland. Besides, medical students who were going into their internship had already been exposed to a fair amount of clinical training.


5          During the time I worked in the laboratory as an "extern", (or as an assistant to the pathologists working in this hospital laboratory), I met remarkably helpful and friendly people who were obviously somewhat concerned for our success. We were both young and energetic and willing to work hard, but we would never have made it without the generosity and the hospitality of the people we met in those first two years in Victoria. I also developed some idea what I wanted to do, after I had qualified as a medical practitioner. I realised from the beginning, that one year internship, together with another year spent in the laboratory, would hardly be sufficient to tackle the numerous problems of being a practicing physician. Besides, I was interested in the central nervous system and I learned about the Montreal Neurological Institute from a "resident", a student in pathology, who did a year of "practical experience" in the laboratory of this hospital. Typical of the bold and energetic approach of youth, I wrote to the director of the Montreal Neurological Institute and applied for a position there as a student, or "fellow".


6          I received a courteous but somewhat discouraging reply, indicating that many qualified people were applying for a period of study and training at this institution. Yet, I insisted upon receiving an appointment for an interview, indicating that I would, somehow, find the means to take the train back to Montreal and make my way to the Institute. This I did and I was accepted. The director, Theodore Rasmussen, was impressed with my command over the language, because this Institution receives a predominantly foreign contingent of students, who go back to their country of origin after completing their training in one of the neurological sciences. The director obviously thought that I was also a foreigner on my way back to Holland, after completing my training, in spite of the fact that I had clearly indicated in my letter that I was an immigrant.


7          This misunderstanding came to the fore, later, during my stay in Montreal, when it became clear in a talk with the director that he expected me to go back home. Then, I realised that I had been admitted "by mistake", because, I was certainly the most junior student they had ever admitted, and, if the director had realised that I was going to compete on the Canadian market for an academic or practicing position, I would probably not have been accepted, because there were already so many applicants with far better qualifications and a more extensive study background than me. However, in all fairness, I was never discriminated against, and I received fair treatment all along. I worked hard, did my utmost, and, once again, I profited from my experience of learning on my own; of learning through exposure and contact, because, once again, there was little in the way of "formal training". The Institute was, in essence, a neurological hospital, where the staff would be looking after patients with medical and surgical diseases of the neurological system.


8          The Institute had made its name under its founder, Wilder Pennfield; an American, who became a pioneer in the surgical treatment of certain forms of epilepsy, and this specialisation was reflected in the type of patients the Institute received. However, in addition, also "ordinary" neurological and neurosurgical patients from a more local referral area were treated there, and this was appropriate; otherwise, the training of the fellows and students in these specialties would have been even more specialised than it already was. There were many other departments which had sprung-up as a result of the type of patients that came to the Institute, and, indeed, even during my seven-year stay at the Institute, the accent was still heavily weighted on "seizure surgery", in spite of the fact that Dr. Wilder Pennfield had already retired when I arrived.


9          I began my stay, just as in Victoria, in the pathology lab, which was an excellent place to learn about the normal and abnormal structures of the brain, including macroscopic and microscopic studies. During this time, I let it be known that I would like to follow the course for neurosurgery, because at the time of my application I only expressed an interest in the neurological sciences in general. Because I did not have a year of general surgery as yet, I also spend one year at the Montreal Children's Hospital. Most of my residency in surgery was actually spent in the Department of neurosurgery, which gave me a valuable experience in paediatric neurosurgery. To make a long story short; I had a very good time. I was eager and keen to learn, and for the first time in my life, I worked really hard and I used every opportunity to learn. I realised from the beginning that I was surrounded by people who knew a great deal more than I, primarily, because they had already been working in this field in their own countries. I realised, that I had been extremely fortunate to have been accepted with such a meagre academic background.


10        In 1969 I succeeded in passing the examinations of the Royal College of physician and surgeons of Canada in the specialty of neurosurgery, which was the highest qualification of the land. However, I had to take the examinations twice, having failed the first time. By this time, I had been invited to come to Newfoundland by a neurologist I met at the Institute. I was working in partnership with a neurosurgeon who had lived and worked in St John's, Nfld. already for a long time, and I made arrangements to have some time off to study for the fellowship exams that were coming-up. Fortunately, the second time around, I passed and became a "Fellow of the College of Surgeons of Canada". FRCS(C).

 

11        I should mention, here, that, at the end of my internship in Victoria, and only a few weeks before I was to go to Montreal, I came down with a flue-like illness that kept lingering-on. When I started to cough-up blood, I sought medical attention, and soon, it became clear that I had contracted an acute tuberculous pneumonia. Because my medical records at the time of the immigration showed that I had never even been in contact with TB, the infection was traced to an exposure in the pathology lab, and, as a result, I received "workman's compensation", based on the salary I was making as an intern. I spent about six months in a sanatorium in Vancouver, and I made good use of this time to study for my "Enabling Certificate", which was the equivalent of a final exam from medical school. This enabling certificate would allow me to register for a medical licence in a Province, but, because I planned to go-on with post-graduate studies in Montreal, I did not get a licence to practice until much later; when I began practicing my specialty; first in Newfoundland, and about two years later, in Saint John, New Brunswick.


12        I was actually able to take these examinations for the Enabling Certificate in Vancouver, during the final days of my stay at the hospital or TB sanatorium. Then, we moved to Montreal and I fortunately never suffered a recurrence. I was under medical supervision for several years afterwards, and I swallowed a combination of anti-tuberculous drugs for about a year after my release from the sanatorium.


13        The first decade was extremely hectic, but, fortunately, my health never gave-out, in spite of the many long hours spent working at the Neurological Institute. The clinical training consisted in "working as an intern", or junior medical worker for one of the three neurosurgical teams working there. This meant, that there were two permanent staff members, a senior or "head" of the service, as well as a more junior assistant for each of the surgical teams. Under these permanent staff members there was a team of three "house physicians"; a resident who was responsible for the work that had to be done, and he had two assistants, or interns, who would alternate on duty every other night. Therefore, for the first few years in clinical training, I would be home only every other night and every other week-end, and, on my days off, I would often not come home till about eight o'clock in the evening.


14        Our five daughters were born between 1960 and 1970, and you may wonder where I found the time to see my wife. Certainly, contacts with the children were somewhat difficult, because they would already be in bed and asleep, on many occasions, before I made it home on my days off. However, as a resident, the schedule was a little easier, but not much. Since there were three services, there were also three residents, and we alternated being on call one week at the time. This meant, that, as a resident we could go home every night and week-end, as long as we were not "on call". Then, it was necessary to stay in the hospital for an entire week at the time.



.......




Chapter 4



A hectic work-schedule suitable for younger people.
I enjoyed my stay at the MNI immensely.
I realised that I could not find a permanent job at the MNI.
A career in "private practice" and a desire to build-up some assets.
Working in a private practice was not easy.
It was tempting to go back to an academic institution.
We moved from New Foundland to New Brunswick.
Rapid changes during the first few years in Saint John.
I have always been a "reluctant surgeon".
I wanted a "break"; a sabbatical of a year or so.
The pay-off of a lifelong habit of living frugally.
A bold experiment with a frugal, near self-sufficient lifestyle in the country-site.
The various strands that led to an early retirement.
Why I began to write.


1          Clearly, such schedules are not suitable for older people, and, indeed, academic Institutions like the Montreal Neurological Institute relied a great deal on the energy and eagerness of its house staff to keep everything running smoothly. Certainly, I was never bored and enjoyed my stay immensely. However, it became clear to me as the years progressed, (and as I was getting closer and closer to the time that I would have to do my final exams and be looking for a permanent position), that I had no chance of staying-on at the Montreal Neurological Institute. A few Canadian fellows were obviously being "groomed" for an academic career, and they had far more background training than I had. One of them had already a PhD in the field of neuro-physiology, and the other had a Master's degree in the same field. Obviously, I could not stay there, and I had no contacts with any other academic Institutions.


2          Perhaps, it would have been possible to stay-on as a "post-doctorate fellow", which is still a non-permanent position with an income that was a little better than that of a resident, and, also, with more time to study or devote oneself to a specific research project, but, by this time, I also realised that time was not standing still. I owed it to myself, and my family, to think about building-up a few assets; to settle-down, somewhere, and make a living with the speciality I had been trained for. Certainly, in order to establish oneself in "private practice", it was necessary to have the qualifications from the Royal College before any hospital would extend "privileges" to practice one's specialty, and this was the reason why I became first an assistant of the neurosurgeon in Newfoundland and only established myself later in private practice; after I got my "fellowship".


3          However, I learned that there was a world of difference between working in a well-organised and specialised institution like the Montreal Neurological Institute, or MNI, and the world of "private practice". As soon as I went to Newfoundland, I found that I had to work in several hospitals, without the benefit of assistants like interns and residents, and certainly, those interns and residents that were available in the hospitals affiliated with a medical school were not specialising in the neurological sciences. I learned, that it was far more difficult to get everything organised in order to handle the problems that were thrown at me, and, I also learned that a lot of "politics" was going-on in these hospitals; as every specialist and every department was vying for influence and resources. I was completely new at this. After all, the organisation and the politics of the MNI were completely "out of sight" for those working there as students and house-staff, and it took me a while to get used to this, and learn about the many concerns and details I never had to give any attention to before.


4          Indeed, it was very tempting to go back to an academic Institution, where I would not have to bother with all these concerns, but then, I realised that the time of being a resident or intern was over. Besides, if I wanted to make some money, I had to persist and learn to work within the limitations and opportunities available at any specific location or environment. Fortunately, I received an invitation to come to Saint-John, New Brunswick; from another neurologist, whom I had met also at the MNI. The great advantage, there, was the fact that I could do all my work in one hospital; the general hospital, which had a well-organised neurosurgical department. The neurosurgeon who had built-up this department had also trained at the MNI, but he had left for a position at the Jewish General Hospital in Montreal, and I was able to "walk in" to a set-up, which was at least somewhat similar to the MNI. Certainly, there were no interns and residents to help-out, except as an "extra pair of hands" at the operating table, because the Department of Neurosurgery was not affiliated with any academic institution.

 

5          There was already another neurosurgeon there, who had come-in as an assistant to the previous head of the department, but we were both working as associates, without any formal arrangement. We would both look after our own patients. We would alternate week-ends "on call", where we would take care of emergencies. However, by and large, we looked after our own patients, even on the week-ends off, because we both stayed home most of the time, and would be available for consultation by the nursing staff, whenever necessary. Indeed, we had very good nurses who were very experienced, because many of them had been with the department of neurosurgery for some time.


6          The first few years were quite busy and I did not have much to do with the politics, because I left my colleague, who had been there already for a number of years, in charge of the duties of being a "head of department". Yet, things changed quite rapidly during the years I was there. Probably, because we both were not really interested in politics, and because of the fact that our predecessor had made strong but perhaps somewhat unpopular efforts to keep neurosurgery centralised in Saint John for the entire province, we found ourselves suddenly confronted with the establishment of another neurosurgical centre in Moncton.

 

7          In short; I was not really involved in the medical politics that were going-on, but this also meant, that we did not exert, any longer, a strong influence on the government to prevent the fragmentation of the neurological and neurosurgical services. Indeed, I never gave much thought to the fact, that such a fragmentation would be a serious handicap for the ability to maintain a strong and vigorous department, but this came clearly to the fore. The practice dwindled quite significantly, and I had already been a "reluctant surgeon", because I never glorified the practice of cutting into a human being, except as a last resort. I was always sceptical about what could really be accomplished with these rather extravagant surgical procedures, and I always prided myself in being just as good a neurologist, or diagnostician, as a surgeon. Besides, the training at the MNI was still so much geared towards "seizure surgery", that many of the more "bread and butter" neurosurgical procedures were somewhat neglected, and I found myself without the ability to do seizure surgery, while not all that familiar with, or eager to carry-out, those surgical procedures that would "bring-in the money".


8          Certainly, I had no difficulties "making a living", but, slowly, my actual surgical practice declined significantly. Perhaps, this was one of the main reasons for the growing sense of tiredness and frustration that set-in after six or seven years of practice in Saint-John. I started to think about a change, and I wanted to start with a "break"; a sabbatical of a year, to allow me to rethink my career. Fortunately, we had adopted and practiced a frugal lifestyle all these years in Canada, (and, before that in Holland as well), because we had virtually nothing in the way of material assets. This meant, that it was extremely easy for us to make ends meet. We never changed our lifestyle, and we paid-off the mortage on the house we had bought within a few years. We had everything we needed and no debts of any kind. The children were well looked-after and had everything they needed, and we were not inclined to "spoil" them materially, just because we had the financial ability to do so.


9          Therefore, it became quite feasible to take a year off and live on our savings, while pondering what to do. We had never experienced a period of relaxation and easy living, and we embarked on a bold experiment with a frugal, near self-sufficient lifestyle in the country site. We were able to sell our home in one of the suburbs of Saint John for a reasonably good price, and we calculated that we could live off the interests of our savings, at least for some time. My wife and I were both eager to see what it would be like to live in the country and experiment with a life-style of near self-sufficiency.


10        These ideas were, and perhaps still are, quite popular, as many "yuppies" or young, urban professionals, were doing the same thing. However, in contrast with many other professional occupations, it was impossible for a clinician to "work" from the country-site. I gave-up my practice, therefore, after I notified the hospital that I was taking a leave of absence for a year, and the hospital administrator attracted another neurosurgeon to take my place. This meant, however, that I had no further income from a medical practice, and it is not surprising that my colleagues shook their heads in disbelief. Here I was; still young, with the highest qualifications of the land in my specialty, and still with young children, and I was disappearing to a modest home somewhere in the country; growing vegetables and keeping milking goats, living like a poor subsistance farmer, while foregoing the easy income associated with a medicare-paid system of health-care.


11        However, I needed a break and my wife realised this. She knew that I would probably get sick from some sort of stress-related illness, because of the high level of frustration and anxiety that had set-in over the last few years of my medical practice. Indeed, I had become acutely aware of the fact that I knew nothing about the "outside world". I had "conquered", in a sense, the world of medicine. I had a good job and could easily make a living and nothing would have been more natural than to settle into a "comfortable routine", but, I was restless and I wanted to know more. I wanted time to think and reflect; to study and become more familiar with the numerous aspects of life that were outside the field of medicine. I also became aware of the fact, that stress caused so many symptoms and illnesses in people, because I saw scores of people whose complaints would superficially suggest a neurological illness, but which were, in essence, caused by stress and frustration, just as I was beginning to experience within myself.


12        These strands of developments; the slowly declining real neurosurgical work-load, and the fact that I was often consulted by other physicians about psychological problems, (because they had come to realise that I was interested in this field), coupled with the fact that I had worked hard without a break for more than fifteen years; the realisation that I knew so little about life outside the hospital and the world of medicine; all these factors contributed to an intense desire to take some time off; to give vent to my reflective tendencies, and to take-up residence in the country-site.


13        Indeed, primarily as a result of the need to cope with the rising level of frustration and even a measure of confusion, and, because of the need to cope with my increasingly critical attitudes towards everything around me, I began to write. This had a remarkably therapeutic effect, because it allowed my to learn to express my criticisms and anxieties. Slowly, but surely, I taught myself to write. After all, I had taught myself, in essence, everything I knew or had done before, so it was not all that difficult to practice writing and to keep looking at what I was putting down on paper.


14        Here, I have sketched, I hope, a somewhat plausible series of events leading to the transition of a medical and surgical practitioner in the specialties of neurology and neurosurgery, to the "yuppie", who began to live a frugal but comfortable and uneventful lifestyle in the country-site; far-away from the politics of medicine, but also, isolated and divorced from any academic contacts or outlets for the writings that were coming into being.




.......

sa300c








Chapter 5




A look at the woman who consented to be my wife.
A versatile, hard-working and capable personality.
The remarkable power of a competent, frugal and intelligent lifestyle.
The boat.
I taught myself how to sail and navigate.
I maintained the boat myself.
A permanent mooring along the ice-free coast of the Bay of Fundy.
The boat became a gateway to the world outside medicine.
How we prepared ourselves for a possible early retirement.
My wife's energy and versatility were the key to our success.
The costs of living were reduced to a fraction of what they were before.
We realised that it is impossible to live-off a small piece of land without making use of a modest steady income.




1          While I was working hard to secure my diplomas and open-up the possibility to make a living with my chosen profession, my wife was working just as hard, or even harder, to make our goals possible. She was certainly more versatile than I, because she had to make do with a very small income. She managed the family finances from the beginning, and made sure that the bills were paid on time. She was, and still is, a good seam-stress, and this made it possible to dress herself and the children very nicely without having to spend a fortune. She made all her clothes, as well as the children's clothes, and the kids looked great. She was, and still is more frugal than I; partly as a result of childhood experiences, because we had literally nothing, having gone through World War II. While I spent the war years in Indonesia, in a concentration camp for women and children, my wife went, as a young child, through the experience of warfare in Holland, (the "hunger winter" in Rotterdam), and we both shared the experience of having impoverished parents, who had to work hard and live frugally in order to give their children a chance to grow-up with an education.


2          We always were able to feed ourselves and the children adequately, and, as I mentioned, the kids always looked well-dressed. Probably, we lived all these years of training below the officially accepted poverty-line, but we never felt poor. We were in good health, and after I obtained my Enabling Certificate, I knew, that I always could start looking for a job in general practice; if it became impossible to continue with my specialty training. When I started private practice in Saint John, my wife became my secretary, and, indeed, with the money "pouring in", we paid-off the mortgage on the house within two years, and I also bought a sail-boat after our youngest daughter had been born.


3          The boat was one way of exploring a measure of contact with the world outside the field of medicine and the hospital. Indeed, the boat was not really a relaxation for me, because I never had been exposed to boating, except a few times in Holland during my stay at the University. I did not start with a dinghy, but a twenty-six foot cabin-cruiser with sufficient room to sleep the entire family, even, if it was cramped. Saint John had beautiful rivers to sail on, and, as usual, I taught myself how to handle the boat and to navigate, even on the Bay of Fundy, but the process of learning all about the practical aspects of maintaining the boat, took longer, of course, because I never had been exposed to the many branches of technology that went into the construction and outfitting of a modern, fibreglass sail-boat; with stainless steel fittings and rigging, as well as a two-cylinder auxilliary diesel engine.


4          However, I had prepared myself well. I had read for years a number of boating magazines, including one from England, and it was indeed a British boat, which I eventually ordered directly from the manufacturer, importing the boat myself. The pleasure of sailing was only a small part of the lure of this boat. As a matter of fact, I was so aware of all the mishaps that could occur, that I was usually quite tense, which made it not very pleasant for the family to be on board. My wife never took to the boat, in part as a result of her fear for the water, and, in part because of the cramped conditions. The fact that the children preferred to play on the beach rather than sit on a sailing boat played also a role, and partly, the reason was that I was still completely inexperienced and had to learn a great deal about boating.


5          Also, it took quite a bit of work to get everything "ready" for a week-end on the boat, and, therefore, for the first time in our married life, we parted somewhat in our interests and activities. Most of the time, I would be pottering around with the boat alone, on my week-ends off, while my wife and children preferred to stay home in the spacious surroundings of the property we had bought in one of the suburbs of Saint John. I made a deliberate attempt to do all the maintenance work myself, because I wanted to learn and to reduce costs as much as possible. This is the reason, why I looked for a permanent mooring along the ice-free coast of the Bay of Fundy, rather than have the boat hauled-out every fall, because the Saint John river, as well as the Kennebecasis, (a branch of the Saint John river), would freeze-up every winter.


6          In spite of the fact that I was often tense and somewhat worried when I handled the boat and navigated, nearly always alone, on the foggy Bay of Fundy, I enjoyed it immensely, and I also became much more practical, as I learned to concern myself with mechanisms of cause and effect, which were completely different from the events I encountered during my medical studies and practice. Indeed, the boat became a gateway to the world outside the fields of medicine and the life-sciences. I learned something about navigation and electronics, and, eventually, I installed a small radar unit, in order to navigate a little more safely through the thick fog that is such a common feature in our area during the summer months.


7          Yet, every other week-end was not much, and I was often tired on my week-ends off. Indeed, during the last two years of my practice I was chronically tired, and I often woke-up with a splitting head-ache, especially, when I was able to relax on a week-end off, or, even, whenever there was a momentary relaxation in the problems to be attended-to in my practice. These headaches were typical for "tension head-aches", and I knew that I needed a break.


8          When I began my sabbatical year in August of 1976, I enjoyed immensely a period of a few months in a row, when I could enjoy the uninterrupted "pottering around" on the boat, but soon, we realised, that we should move to a less expensive environment. Indeed, if we were to create, at least, the chance for ourselves to stay-out permanently and retire early, we needed the proceeds of the property we had bought, and which had been completely paid-for, in order to buy a much more economical property in the country-site, and use the interests of our savings to live from.


9          We were indeed able to sell the property quite well and buy a property in the country site that was rather dilapidated, but still good enough to fix-up and live-in; at least for a number of years. This we did, and now my practical skills were tested even more, as my wife and I tackled the problems of renovating an old house. I even build a brick-chimney, after a friend showed me the bare essentials of how to go about it. In short, this experiment with living a frugal and near self-sufficient lifestyle "worked", because we put a great deal of effort in learning about everything under the sun, and doing the work ourselves.


10        We even experimented with a vegetable garden, and one of the girls who took very much to this life in the country, got a milking goat; (more or less given to her by a neighbour who did not want to bother any longer). We fixed-up a little barn, had her bred, and soon, we were in the business of milking and using the milk for cooking, baking as well as drinking. We did this for a number of years, but, as the children grew-up and left home, we had too much milk for our own consumption and the chores of baking bread and making cheese became somewhat cumbersome. We accumulated rather large supplies of milk and cheese which we had to give away or consume at an accelerated rate, because it was illegal to sell these products without proper government licencing. We even had hens for a while, and the surplus eggs were sold easily, but also, somewhat illegally, I suspect. In short; this experiment worked quite well, but I should never forget that my wife was the driving force behind all this activity. She was tireless in tackling all the extra chores associated with such a lifestyle, and she was still able to sew for herself and the children, and, even, for people who came to know her sewing skills, as well as her skills in all sorts of handi-crafts; e.g. knitting and crocheting.

 

11        She even got into upholstering and her activities were the key to our success. Not only, was she able to keep all the necessary household chores going, but she continued the frugal and money-saving practices of sewing her own clothes, as well as the clothes of our daughters, who were now growing-up and leaving home, one by one; but, she also brought-in a little bit of extra money by sewing, knitting and upholstering for other people. One of my daughters and myself were involved with the chores of milking and looking after the goats, but my wife was primarily in charge of looking after the vegetable garden. We learned a great deal from this experiment with a frugal lifestyle. We learned that it was indeed possible, with hard work, good organisation, and plenty of self-discipline, to do a lot of chores for oneself, which are, of course, much easier "farmed out" to someone who is making a living with these activities. Yet, we saved a great deal of money by doing things for ourselves; by repairing everything in the home, and, I also learned, quickly, to maintain the family car myself. Even small repairs I could do, but the larger repairs which require special equipment were just not worth tackling, primarily, because of the lay-out for such special and expensive equipment.


12        By and large, we were able to reduce the costs of living to a fraction of what it took to run the house-hold in Saint John, but, it took a great deal of time and effort, and a constant resistance to the temptation to call-upon someone else, and pay for the work that had to be done. Besides, we also learned that there is always a significant residue of items and services which we could not produce for ourselves, and some repairs and purchases had to be paid-for; if we did not want to fall into a life of poverty and subsistence. Indeed, the great difference between poverty and a lifestyle of near self-sufficiency lies in the fact that the latter is voluntary. We always could get help, if we needed it. We always could buy what we needed or wanted, and we could get the car repaired and maintain it in good condition; even, if we had to pay for these services, from time to time; by going to a well-equipped service center and have a major repair carried-out.


13        Indeed, it became quite clear to us, from an early stage in our experiment with a frugal lifestyle in the country-site, that it is impossible to live off a small piece of land without making use of some steady income. After all, we had only a few acres of land around the home we had bought in the country-site. The supply of cash does not have to be large, but there has to be some. Tools and other supplies have to be bought, and, even our food-supply could not come entirely from a garden, even, if we had a plentiful supply of vegetables and a staple food like potatoes. We still needed flour, sugar, tea and coffee, as well as countless other products to round-off a reasonable diet. Certainly, we had plenty of diary products, but goat milk is rather strong, and, from time to time, one wants to eat something else. We had goat-meat for years in the freezer, because we slaughtered some of the surplus males several years in a row. However, I detested the chore of shooting these friendly and unsuspecting animals, and the necessity of doing away with suplus males was one of the reasons why we eventually got out of "keeping goats"; in addition to the fact that we were getting more dairy products than we could handle.


14        As the family got smaller, my wife, Diny, got slowly more involved with sewing and upholstering for other people. I helped her, from time to time, with the heaviest work of upholstering old furniture, but, by and large, she wanted to do this on her own. However, after a number of years, she developed a chronic pain in her arms and shoulders, which was indeed related to a chronic stress from handling the heavy pieces of furniture as well as the pulling that was necessary to stretch new fabric over the backs and seats of these pieces of furniture. Eventually, she had to give-up the work of upholstering furniture, but she continued to sew and was branching-out, increasingly, into dress-making for special occasions, e.g., weddings and graduation gowns. She became also experienced in all sorts of difficult alteration work, and the "business" grew quickly into a near full-time job. However, it also became quite clear, that, in order to remain competitive with the price of new clothing, she could only charge a near minimum wage for her time, and once again, we realised, how important it was to be able to work with a minimum of overhead and other expenses.




.......






Chapter 6




It became clear that a seamstress could not hope to make a living without additional financial income.
We were living debt-free.
Keeping fixed costs at an absolute minimum.
Keeping the boat without any regular expenses.
Every year we could put a small surplus back into Canada Savings Bonds.
An all-important cushion of "slowly increasing savings".
Learning how to maintain a car.
At the time of retirement I converted my RRSP into a small annuity.
How we invested in "land".
Here we are, living in a beautiful home.
How we built our new home.
The experience and thought that went into the design and building of this home.
Throughout the years we have been in complete control over the way we lived.
I made good use of the "computer revolution" for my writing.




1          It became also crystal clear, that a seamstress could not hope to make a living without additional resources. Because we did not have any fixed expenses, such as a mortgage, debts or other payments, and, since our costs were primarily a result of the fact that we consumed electricity, had a telephone, used some wood and electric heat during the winter, and had to pay property-taxes, the costs of living were not high. Anyone, who had to pay rent, be it just for a sewing shop, or, pay rent for a home, or make mortgage payments, would find it very difficult to make ends meet with a job that brings in only meagre revenues. Indeed, we see, here, the common problem of the "working poor", where many jobs are only paying a minimum wage, because a higher remuneration for the work would not be commercially viable. These experiences also showed us how important it was to always keep fixed costs at an absolute minimum. In essence, the frugal, self-sufficient lifestyle in the country-site is based on a trade-off between time and effort on the one hand, and, the ability to save on the expense of having other people do the work for you.


2          Indeed, the urban, and, especially, the sub-urban lifestyle of the professional has to rely heavily on services provided by other people, and, because the professional has hardly the time to supervise what is being done, he is often taken for a ride, and finds-out, at the end of the year, that a large portion of his income has been spent on all sorts of activities and expenses that have a tendency to assume quickly the quality of "being a necessity". I was able to keep the boat without any regular expenses, such as fees for a yacht-club or the annual costs of hauling-out, because of the fact that I put-down a mooring myself in a secluded spot behind the break-water that shields the harbour of our village against the breakers of the sea. I would beach the boat once a year to scrub off the marine growth and paint the bottom with anti-fouling paint. I did all the repairs myself, and once, I hauled-out the engine, put it in my truck, with the help of a tackle, and brought the engine for a major overhaul to a diesel repair-shop. Later, I picked-up the engine and installed it again, without incurring any expenses other than the parts and labour necessary for the overhaul.


3          As a result of our deliberately frugal way of life, we were able to live well within our means, and, every year, it was possible to put a surplus of money back into the Canada Savings Bonds, which were always the mainstay of our capital assets. Yet, when I took my sabbatical, (which eventually grew into a permanent early retirement), inflation was high, but so were interest rates, and, because of the fact that we already had all the major items paid-for, we were never saddled with debt repayments and high interest charges, and we were enjoying a reasonable return on our savings-bonds. The practice of not living to the maximum of our spendable income provided this all-important cushion of "slowly increasing savings", which was necessary to compensate for the effects of inflation and rapidly rising prices. In spite of the fact that we owned, outright, everything we were making use of, replacements, and, even, taxes, had a habit of creeping-up, continuously, during these years of inflation which characterised the seventies.


4          We did well. We could even afford a new car, once in a while, or, at least, a newer car; primarily, because I was getting better at maintaining these vehicles. I experimented with different techniques of preventing rust from eating-up the metal bodies, and I have now two cars, both diesels, which I bought new in '82 and '85 respectively. These cars are still on the road and give me excellent service. Certainly, it still costs money to keep them on the road, because the insurance costs have skyrocketed during the last few years; labour costs in garages have risen steeply, and parts have always been rather expensive. However, the costs of replacing a car every few years have skyrocketed even more, and it is remarkable that the "new Beetle", the Volkswagen that came out a year or so ago, sells for ten times the price I paid for the last Beetle I bought in '72. Certainly, we are dealing with an entirely different car, in spite of the superficial resemblance in appearance. Nevertheless, a rise of ten times is quite steep. No-one's salaries has risen that steeply, and it is not surprising that people are hanging-on to their cars much longer than they used to, back in the seventies.


5          When I decided, (in conjunction with my wife, of course), to make the sabbatical more or less permanent, I also converted the savings that had been placed in a registered retirement savings fund, into an annuity. I was able to make good use of the fact that the annuity rates were quite high as a result of the high interest rates being charged in those inflation-ridden times. The monthly payment of this annuity was quite low, but it provided an important basis of cash for our most urgent needs. Because this high rate of return was locked-in for life, we have benefitted from this high yield ever since; especially, when the interests rates slumped to unprecedented lows in recent years because of the fact that inflation has been under control for years, and governments, in general, have carried-out a much more responsible and fiscally tight monetary policy.


6          We are now feeling the "pinch" of a much lower rate of return on our savings, as the yield has dropped over a decade or so from a high of about ten percent per year to not more than about four percent. Fortunately, our foresight to enlarge the capital base of our savings has been able to compensate, to some extent, for the loss of interest income from these savings.


7          I should also mention that we invested a significant part of our original savings, (which came "free" as a result of selling our home in Saint John and buying a modest property in the country-site), in "land". This land was tied-up in "heirship", or a complex ownership dispute, and this made it impossible to sell the land. I spend about ten years, off and on, trying to come to some sort of an agreement with the other share-holders in this property. We, my wife and I, (together with another couple we were friends with), had bought-out two old ladies who owned together seven-eights of the property, but the remaining one-eight was divided over four people, owning each one thirty-seconds of the property. I will not bore you with the details how we eventually straightened-out this ownership problem. Let me just say that this "gamble", (which was not really a gamble because it was obvious to anyone with a little bit of foresight that this property had a lot of potential for the future), paid-off, and has supplemented our financial needs significantly; especially, when we finally decided to take the bold step of "scrapping" the house we had lived-in since our retirement, and build a brand new home, on the same property; making use of the spectacular view this property is blessed with.


8          Here we are, living in a beautiful home, designed by my wife and me, and built with the help of just a few local carpenters, because we were able to do all the sub-contracting ourselves. My wife had arranged for the purchasing of the windows and the doors we needed, and I subcontracted the work necessary for the basement, paying a great deal of attention to the requirements of proper drainage, excellent protection against frost damage, dryness of the basement; so that it could be finished and used as a living space. In short, many years of practical experience with the problems and potential problems of owning an older place had prepared us very well for the ambitious task of designing a home from the ground up. This made it possible for us to direct and guide many different subcontractors; e.g., putting-up cement basement, preparing the site for building, the plumbing and electrical wiring, as well as arranging for the carpenters and those who would be supplying the lumber and other building-supplies. All these coordinating activities, as well as the actual purchasing of the supplies, we did ourselves, while those who worked for us were essentially paid by the hour.


9          Certainly, not everything was done by hiring people by the hour. The basement was done as a specific contract with an estimate of the total costs, but, once again, I purchased the cement necessary for pouring the walls, and I hired the firm to carry-out the site-preparation. This was a major project, because we wanted to build on top of a hill which had to be dug-off. The rocks were broken-up and provided the best possible site for building a house, after this crushed rock had been compacted into a solid foundation by the heavy equipment necessary to carry-out these preparatory tasks. We were aiming for a home that did not only make optimum use of the view of this place, looking-out over the Back Bay, (an inlet of the Bay of Fundy), but we were also getting older. We wanted a place we could maintain without much effort or costs, even, as the years went by; because we would inevitably lose some of our abilities and energies to carry-out the many chores we had been tackling over the years.


10        All these practical experiences have contributed significantly to the fact that we were always able to maintain a healthy, sensible and frugal lifestyle, while suffering none of the disadvantages of true poverty. Throughout these years we have been in complete control over the way we lived. We could always afford to buy, or do what needed to be done, without having to go into debt, and we had saved-up enough "ready cash" to be able to build our new home, now already six years ago, without having to take-out a mortgage. Indeed, ever since my early retirement, and, even earlier, (as soon as we had paid-off the mortgage on our home in Saint John), we have lived a lifestyle that is completely free of debt. Certainly, we use a credit card on many occasions, but we never pay a penny of interest charges, because the account is always paid-up in full, as soon as the bill comes-in.


11        If everyone would live like we have lived most of our lives, the "economy" would have collapsed a long time ago, because people would just not spend their meagre earnings and income on anything else but the basic necessities, and yet, I am convinced that such a near self-sufficient, frugal and sensible lifestyle, with complete control over our time and spending, is essential for a sense of genuine satisfaction, as well as a good state of health. Certainly, we have lived outside the mainstream of an affluent society, but, whenever it became clear that a specific technological development would contribute significantly to our lifestyle, we had no hesitation to make use of it. I will describe in the next chapter how my writing evolved from "writing-out" my thoughts in long-hand, to typing on the electric typewriter which my wife already used when I was still in practice. Then, in '83 I bought my first computer, an Atari, used exclusively as a word-processor. I used this computer every day for ten years, and I still have this machine, because it is still perfectly functional. However, I bought a new machine, a 486dx-33V in '93, the same year we build our new home, and I am still using it to sketch my thoughts, and edit and print my writings.






.......

sa300d







Chapter7



I always think before I write.
It took me years, before I was more or less satisfied with my writing.
Europe before Nuclear War was written with a memory typewriter.
The Atari, my first word-processor, was a revelation.
From "letter quality" to a "type-set quality" printer.
Electronic publishing; via internet or CD-ROM.
Polishing is still a form of writing.
After I quit work I felt less of a need to go sailing.
I am not really comfortable with very stressful work.
The productive habit of taking care of chores immediately.
I would always plan carefully what I had to do.




1          Pottering around with the boat and carrying-out the necessary chores associated with a near self-sufficient and frugal lifestyle was only part of the activities that kept me busy. Indeed, I remember that, from time to time, a few curious former colleagues would ask me what I did with my time, since I did not have to work anymore practicing medicine, and it was obvious that few people in the sub-urban world of professionals had any idea how much work there would be, if one tried to live a lifestyle of near self-sufficiency. My main focus of attention always remained on the self-imposed task of thinking, ordening my thoughts, clarifying my ideas about the world around me, as well as the nature of my own existence; and, as a result, I wrote nearly continuously.


2          Certainly, as I mentioned before, sometimes the accent would fall on sketching an essay. This required a fair amount of time in order to "gather-up" sufficient ideas; with sufficient clarity, to let my thoughts flow clearly on paper in the long-hand writing that I practiced for years. At other times, I would be re-writing, editing, correcting and re-typing my work, or, at least, parts of the work I had done. I took me literally years, before I was more or less satisfied with the way I wrote, and the clarity of my thoughts, but, even so, I never found anyone who really took an interest in this. Perhaps, rightly so, because, after all, these writings remained very personal points of views, and were, from the beginning, couched in such abstract language, with complex thoughts and sentence constructions, that it remained difficult for any outsider to "get anything out of it".


3          Yet, slowly but surely, my writing improved, and, as a result of the remarkable developments of the personal computer, it also became possible to produce ever "neater" manuscripts. In 1983 I bought the Atari, which was the first word-processor, but the year before I rented a "memory type-writer". This was a hybrid between a computer and a type-writer, providing, for the first time, "editing capabilities". However, the "window" in which this editing had to take place was very small; sixteen characters in all, but, it already was possible to put an entire page "in memory", review it bit by bit, and then, have the machine "type it out" in one stretch. Then, the next page would be "composed" in the same manner. The work "Europe before Nuclear War" was written and printed in this manner, and I have never looked at it since. I plan to type it into the present computer and edit the work, once again, after I have completed finalising the last one hundred essays.


4          The first "letter-quality" printer I used with the Atari produced nice print, but, the printing process was very slow. In addition, there was something wrong, because on just about every page, it would "go to sleep"; meaning, it would stop functioning for one obscure reason or another, and pause for up to several minutes. Then, it would suddenly resume where it left-off. Later, I found out that there was indeed some sort of incompatibility causing it to shut-off, and a later cartridge for the word-processing program, (which was the way the Atari was being programmed for word-processing), did indeed by-pass this problem. However, by that time, I had already worn-out the letter-quality printer and I switched to a used but very good "daisy-wheel printer". This was essentially a type-writer, or, at least, a "type-writing printing mechanism" driven by the computer. The main advantage was the fact, that all the editing could be done first on the computer, and then, when desired, a "hard copy" could be printed-out, quickly and neatly; producing a type-written manuscript without the need to correct any typing errors.


5          This printer worked beautifully for a number of years, but, in the mean time, the accent of the printer technology for the personal computer shifted to a totally different process, based on the photocopier. Indeed, when my daisy-wheel printer developed a serious problem, it proved too expensive to fix. This was the main reason why I gave-up the Atari and switched to the computer I am using now. This computer works in conjunction with a "laser printer" with a "print-quality" output. Indeed, I have a choice from many different fonts and font-sizes, but I always use the same font-type for the essays I have printed-out, but the font-size varies quite a bit. This combination of printer and computer works beautifully, and, so far, has not given me any serious problems, but, as I mentioned before, in the mean time, the accent has shifted to "electronic publishing". Electronic publishing is so much cheaper compared to a print-out on paper, especially for bulky publications, and the evolution of the internet has now made it possible to publish, essentially world-wide, on a shoe-string budget. However, how effective such publishing is, without making use of sophisticated advertising techniques and a clever programming of the various "search engines", remains to be seen.


6          I may indeed indulge in an attempt to publish some of my work electronically; after I have put-together some sort of extract or "anthology". I think, that it would be futile to put entire essays "on the internet", without a more specific introduction to my work. Such an introduction or anthology may have the desired effect of laying a connection between the world of my thoughts and the thoughts and interests of potential readers. In the mean time, I have come at the end of the series of essays I planned many years ago. This is the last essay, the "Personal Note"; devoted, primarily, to a biographical summary of the personality your author happened to have become.


7          I have been very content all these years since my early retirement. Certainly, the fact that I did not find any response has been somewhat disappointing, but, as I explained before, it was never really unexpected. I hoped, of course, that these personal musings would be able to "strike a chord" with similarly inclined reflective personalities, and this may still be possible, at some time in the future, but I doubt that I will personally witness a measure of interest in my work. In any case, I will concentrate the remaining years of my productive life on polishing my work; on elaborating some of the points that did not come across all that well, and, as I mentioned before, this type of editing and polishing will give me plenty of opportunities to "still write", and insert, or change, some sections, which, in my judgement, do not do justice to the main theme reflected in the title of an essay.


8          I noticed, almost immediately after my early retirement, that I felt less of a need to go sailing. Certainly, there was plenty of other work to do, and my wife still did not want to go on the water at all; especially, since our retirement-village was situated on the Fundy Coast, and not the sheltered waters of the Saint John river system. I still went often for a short sail by myself, but, as time went by, I became less and less interested. Certainly, I played seriously with the idea, at one time, to engage in a longer voyage, single handedly, but I also became ever more clearly aware of the fact, that all this sailing was a lot of "hard physical work". I have never been a physically very active personality. In contrast with many other people, physical activity was never a way to relax. On the contrary, I always found it somewhat of a chore, in spite of the fact, that I was always in good health and enjoyed a moderate amount of physical activity; for a relatively short period of time.


9          I realised, eventually, that I would not enjoy a long voyage under sail. After a few hours on the water, in a stiff breeze and an exciting sail, I was perfectly happy to go back to the safety of my own mooring and relax. Indeed, I often spent a few nights away from the mooring, anchored in a sheltered cove, but I never ventured very far from home. During my years in practice, I would bring the boat every Fall to its winter-mooring, (in a village very close to the one we eventually settled into), and, vice versa, I would bring the boat back to its summer mooring, on the river, during the Spring season. This was, in essence, far enough traveling with the boat, because it took a great deal of planning to go through the Reversing Falls in Saint John, at the right moment, and to make use of the strong tidal currents on the Bay of Fundy to make it to Blacks Harbour, the winter mooring, within a single day. Especially, when the weather would be foggy, navigation was a headache and brought an extra degree of tension. I never had the family with me when I did this.


10        After my early retirement, my headaches and tensions were largely gone, but still, every time I became upset over something, I was prone to get a splitting headache, and, indeed, I recognised, a long time ago, that I was not really comfortable with very stressful work. I thrived in the relaxed, contemplative atmosphere we established in our country residence, and I also noted that any distraction; any problem that had to be taken care of; any thought other than the concentration on the topic to be discussed in the essay I was working on, would interfere with my ability to write. Therefore, I got into the very good and productive habit to immediately take care of any outstanding chores, so that I could go back to my writing. Besides, the habit of concentrating to the utmost on what had to be done, and then carry-out the plan of action as efficiently as possible, had been cultivated during my clinical training. Obviously, the chore or task of performing an operation requires careful planning, utmost concentration, and an efficient way of proceeding with the planned procedures, in order to accomplish the surgical objectives within a reasonable period of time.


11        Not only, would all the personnel working in the operating theatre be somewhat unhappy, if a procedure would take longer than strictly necessary, but the prolonged exposure of a patient to anaesthetic agents would also be a considerable hazard. Therefore, there was never time to dawdle; there was no room for mistakes, and a premium was placed on careful planning and an efficient execution of the plans that had been made. I have always worked this way, ever since. If I have to do something, I would think about it for a while; visualise exactly what I have to do; prepare the various steps I have outlined, and then, if everything is in place, carry-out the steps and procedures as visualised. This has always allowed me to accomplish something reasonably quickly, and rarely, if ever, would I be caught by a complete surprise. Certainly, from time to time, I would come to the conclusion that I underestimated a task or objective, and, indeed, I am convinced that over-confidence, (the "routine aspects" that come to the fore after having completed a task a few times in a row, together with a momentary lack of concentration on all the available details), are the most likely causes for such an "unpleasant surprise"; when a task turns-out to be more complicated as a result of having failed to foresee, in detail, a particular obstacle or difficulty.


12        In sharp contrast with my piano-playing, I never became bogged-down in the unproductive habit of trying and trying again, without analysing, in detail, the failures that had characterised my previous attempts. Certainly, there will undoubtedly be people who will point to the same effect of this large number of essentially similar essays, and come to the conclusion, that I wasted, once again, a gigantic amount of time and effort by producing something that was basically flawed and never had the potential of being of any use to others.


13        Whatever the future judgement will be for my writing, the main difference between my piano playing and my writing lies in the fact, that it was obvious and clear what the outcome of my efforts on the piano should be; nl., the ability to play a difficult composition with complete technical mastery, so that the musical ideas can come easily and effortlessly to the fore. In writing my essays, I was essentially trying to put order on my thoughts, and excercise the expression of my thoughts and ideas. Here, there was no clear-cut end-result by which the outcome of these writings should be judged, but I believe that I succeeded in producing a fluent, seemingly effortless flow for the expression of my thoughts and ideas.




.......






Chapter 8




Why it is unlikely that there would not be any audience at all for these essays.
I wrote primarily, because it was "good therapy".
I never write, if it is not going well.
Pre-occupation with a problem suppresses any desire to write.
I relax primarily by listening to my classical records.
I never really enjoyed my own piano-playing.
We are opinionated people and like to keep our distance.
A look at our religious background.
I am only concerned with the logic and coherence of the countless tid-bits of information that are already available.
We never short-changed anyone with our lifestyle




1          If, for one reason or another, these writings remain totally irrelevant for everyone else, then, of course, there would be no value in them, and the chances of someone experiencing a "flash of recognition" would be minimal. However, as I have argued before, it is unlikely that my thoughts and ideas, my personality with all its evaluations, judgements and conclusions, would be so "out of the ordinary", that no-one else would recognise any similarity with his or her own thoughts and ideas. Certainly, it is quite likely, or, actually, it is quite certain, that these essays and ideas are only able to appeal to a small segment of the population, because it requires a rather highly developed ability to think reflectively, in order to follow the gist of these discussions, but, it is unlikely, that there would be absolutely nobody who is willing to have a good look at these efforts.


2          Some people will consider this large number of reflective essays as a sign of an extremely introvert and vain personality; a sign of one gigantic "ego-trip". However, anyone writing with the idea to "make an impression", or, to gain recognition as a writer or a thinker, would have given-up a long time ago; when it became clear that no publisher had any inclination of even considering bringing some of these works into print. No, I wrote, primarily, because it was "good therapy"; it helped me to orden my thoughts and calm the restlessness and frustrations that characterised the last few years before retirement. I wrote, because I liked to write; it gave me a sense of satisfaction, in spite of the fact that I would always experience a sense of foreboding, whenever I would return to some of my writings; after it had laid dormant; either, as a manuscript on the shelf, and later, as a file on a computer disk.


3          I always "feared", at least to some extent, that I would be discouraged, or, even, disgusted with what I wrote before, but, fortunately, this has rarely been the case. If I restrain myself from writing when I have really nothing to say; or, when I am not able to concentrate properly on my writing, I prevent a lot of "garbage" from being written-down, because any confused or unfocussed piece of writing will have to be re-written or revised to such an extent, that it is less work to start from scratch. Therefore, I never write if I feel that it is not going well. If I feel that I have insufficient "material" in my head to sketch a chapter, I will not even start, and, because I am not in a hurry, (and no-one is waiting or looking over my shoulders what I am doing), I am able to follow a very relaxed routine. Interestingly, I have noticed, for a long time, now, that I become anxious to start writing again, after I have not opened the computer for a few days in a row.


4          Certainly, if I am pre-occupied with a project that requires more than just a few hours to accomplish, my writing urge will be suppressed, perhaps, even, for a couple of weeks, but this is unusual. Only during the height of the summer we are likely to have guests, family-members, staying with us for a few weeks at the time, and, as a rule, I do not write during this period. At least, I do not engage in sketching new material, but it is relatively easy to work at reviewing or editing previously sketched material. However, even here, it takes a fair amount of concentration, and I have to be essentially unburdened by any other concerns, chores or tasks, before the work of editing is proceeding satisfactorily.


5          What happened to my piano-playing? I took the study of the piano up again during various phases of my life. I studied quite seriously and reasonably effectively, during my student years in Utrecht. During this time, some of the mystery about the reasons for my stagnation started to come to the fore, but, at the same time, my time and attention was increasingly focussed on getting through my university exams, and, especially during the last two years, after I met my future wife, the accent shifted entirely towards getting ready for our immigration to Canada. Here, the first few years were so hectic that I did not think much about playing the piano, but still, I relaxed when I came home, by listening to some of my classical records.


6          Indeed, listening to my classical records has always been the primary source for relaxation. Often, I would fall asleep, and later, especially, after early retirement, I would use a period of listening to classical music also as a means to orden my thoughts. Therefore, I would not always be following intently the musical composition I was listening to, but, certainly during my younger years, when I was still harbouring dreams and ambitions about becoming a professional pianist, the listening would always be very intent. We bought a used piano during the later years of our stay in Montreal, but we sold the instrument again when we moved to Newfoundland. Then, I bought, once again, a good used piano and enjoyed, from time to time, playing and practicing on this instrument. However, it always remained "serious work", and the pattern of frustration that had set-in during my teen-age years when I was caught in this morass of stagnation and ignorance, always coloured my feelings and thoughts when playing the piano.


7          I never really enjoyed my own playing, because I was always conscious of the serious limitations associated with my playing. From time to time, I was able to study well and make some progress that was to my satisfaction. I remember the later stages of my stay in the sanatorium in Vancouver. By then, I was allowed to be up and around and I had plenty of time. I discovered a piano somewhere in a lounge and for many weeks I practiced and played with a measure of satisfaction, because I seemed to be overcoming the bad habit of always repeating a mistake. Yet, soon, other needs came to the fore. The time was approaching that I had to do my Enabling Certificate examinations, and, after that, I went home to Victoria, and we prepared for our move to Montreal.


8          When we moved to the country-site, in the village of Back Bay in Charlotte Co. NB, we did not take the piano with us. By now, I had lost all interest in playing myself, because I had expanded significantly the repertoir of classical piano music recorded on long-play records. I have never really missed playing the piano ever since, as I kept myself busy with the chores and tasks of a self-sufficient and frugal lifestyle. Besides, I had the boat to potter around with, as well as the cars to take care of, and I had plenty of records to listen to when I was tired, or, when I wanted to think about what I was going to write.


9          Slowly but surely, I was sliding into an increasingly introvert and isolated lifestyle. Contact with my colleagues became quickly somewhat irrelevant, because we were living such different lifestyles. For a number of years we had good contacts with a couple of close friends; people who had adopted more or less the same lifestyle, and were also, in one way or another, young urban professionals who preferred to live in the country-site. However, as the years went by, we became more isolated. This applies to both of us, in spite of the fact that my wife slowly build-up her clientele in the sewing business. Contacts remained "business-like", and we never felt any inclination to maintain our social contacts; especially, after the couple with whom we had the most contact, rather suddenly separated and moved-away. Besides, the children were growing-up and finding their own way through life. We remained, in essence, very critical, self-reliant people, who would disagree with almost everything and everybody. Undoubtedly, I was, and still am more critical than my wife, but we both are very opinionated people who like to keep our distance.


10        Certainly, we can get-along quite well with other people, at least, superficially, but we never developed any desire to become a member of the various clubs and other centers of social activities where most people like to belong to. We never joined a Church, because we had, in essence, abandoned the cultural and religious traditions we grew-up with. My wife was born Catholic, (coming from the Southern part of the Netherlands which is predominantly Catholic), but, as a result of the fact that she was forced to attend Church so much and so often as a child, she developed a life-long aversion and never attended Church with any measure of enthousiasm at a later age. I was raised in an essentially non-religious family. My mother was a typical "seeker" and introduced me to various religious groupings, but I always felt a measure of aversion for this. When I met my wife, I became interested in the Catholic religion; without any pressure being exerted by her or her family, who were, by then, already drifting-away from the Catholic Faith.


11        In contrast with the rather vague and disorganised thinking behind the various religious denominations I had come into contact with throughout the years, I liked the coherent views of Catholicism. I was baptised and practiced the religion for a number of years, but, on arrival in Montreal, we had the misfortune of encountering an extremely poor example of religious practice, because the parish priest was obsessed with the need to pay for an expensive piece of electronic equipment he had installed in his Church; a system of "simultaneous translation", modeled on the United Nations. As a result, all we heard, week after week, was a blunt, coercive admonition to pay more into the collection box. This irritated me to such an extent, that, one week, I walked-out with the kids I had with me in the middle of the sermon, as the priest was rambling-on, once again, about the need for more money. I never went back to Church since, as my thoughts and ideas were now increasingly shaped by the scientific evidence for the theories of natural evolution, as well as the fascinating mechanisms of the biological and neurological systems I was becoming more familiar with during my stay at the Montreal Neurological Institute.


12        As a reader of my essays, you will have become aware of the central role these concepts and ideas about natural evolution have played in my thinking. Indeed, the sciences I came into contact with, (first during my studies in Holland at the university of Utrecht, and later, the fascinating neurological sciences together with the many branches that touch upon these fields of knowledge and expertise), gave me a strong sense of relevance, and I became ever more interested in forging a coherent imagery about the nature of our own existence; especially, the nature of our reality-perceptions. These ideas have been discussed extensively in the large series of essays that has now come to an end. I honestly believe that many of these thoughts and ideas are viable; that they have the potential of contributing to the insights and perceptions of others. Certainly, I am not contributing one iota of "new information", because I always make use of facts, observations, images and ideas that have already been brought to the fore by others. My self-imposed task of thinking and writing about these many wide-ranging concerns is purely concerned with the logic and cohesion of the countless tid-bits of information that have already become available.


13        Even, if I do not see any evidence, from now until the time I am dying, that these essays are of any use to anyone else, I still feel, that it was worthwhile to devote all this time and attention to writing and polishing them. Even, if they will always remain "just a curiosity", without making any contribution to the thoughts and perceptions of other people, the time I spent writing and rewriting these essays did not do any harm to anyone else; it did not consume any amount of natural resources, and I certainly never short-changed anyone else with my decision to devote a significant part of my life to these "studies in thought".




.......

sa300e




Chapter 9




A short biographical sketch of Diny, my wife.
How we got to know each other.
Her qualities were essential for our success in Canada.
Our five daughters.
In spite of initial reservations, our children have adopted many, if not most of our habits and attitudes.
A brief look at the dispute with Audrey.
Why Romey is quite different from the others.
We ran a strict and disciplined household.




1          My wife, Diny, short for "Huiberdina", was born in 1938 into a poor family of farm labourers in the South of Holland, and, she too, had a rather turbulent youth as a result of the War from 1940 to 1945. While my parents were in Indonesia, or, rather, the Dutch East Indies as it was called then, Diny and her family spent most of the time in the village she was born, except for the last and most severe winter of the war-period, which was spent in Rotterdam because of the fact that her father had found employment there as a policeman. He was one of the first members of the family to have a little more education and became eventually a professional trumpet player in the "police harmony", which was the equivalent of a military band. Later, when many of these "kapells", or military brass-bands, were disbanded because of the rising costs, he spent most of his time in the army as an instructor in brass and wind instruments.


2          We met at the home of a common friend. My best friend of the primary school in Nymegen was the brother of her best friend during high-school. While my best friend and I did not go to the same high-school, we always kept contact, and I got to know Diny when there was a small party thrown for the pupils who had just finished their high-school curriculum and were entitled, as a result of these obligatory "university entrance exams", to continue their studies at a university of their choice. This was the year of '57, while I had graduated from high-school in '53. Soon after we met we formulated plans to immigrate to Canada, and I have sketched our preparations and adventures during this time. Diny was, and still is, remarkably industrious and self-sufficient. Undoubtedly, this was a result of the fact that the family had always been poor. If she wanted something, like a piece of clothing, she would have to make it herself, and her industrious work habits made her a favourite with every employer who hired students during the summer months.


3          She was already sewing and making all her clothes by the time she was sixteen, and she was able to spend the little money she earned during the summer vacations extremely frugally. These qualities were essential for our success in Canda, because she was able to make-do with the small stipend I was getting as a student, intern or resident during the ten-year period in which I was able to repeat all the relevant medical examinations and qualified as a specialist in neurosurgery in '69. From the beginning she managed the meagre household finances. The girls always looked like little princesses, because she was able to make all their clothes. She would always be home, because, after the first few months in Canada, when expecting her first baby, she gave-up working as a house-cleaner, and we lived off the small income I brought home. We lived all these years "below the poverty-line", but we never considered ourselves poor, and we never considered seeking additional income.


4          We have five daughters, all born in Canada. They were brought into the world by "Ceasarian Section", because the first baby presented itself as a breech, with a prolapsed cord, and, at that time, the doctrine was "once a section, always a section". Because of Diny's good health and the absence of any medical reason for a tubal ligation, this prodedure was not carried-out till after the birth of our fifth daughter. Our daughters are Marion, born in '60. Audrey, '61, Romey, '62, Darlene '65 and Ingrid '70. Fortunately, they were all healthy children who did well in school, and they all have become independent and responsible people, even, if they, too, have become quite strong-minded and opinionated, just like their parents. Marion is married and has two children, Audrey never married but has one daughter whom we brought-up as one of our own, until she was about eight years old. Then, a major dispute with Audrey separated us, and we have had virtually no contact for about three and a half years. Only now, does there seem to be a chance to have a little more contact with Anya, Audrey's daughter and our oldest grand-daughter.

 

5          Romey has been married and divorced, twice, and has four children. She lives far-away in British Columbia and is now completing her university studies with a Ph.D in physical chemistry. She was away from a university environment for many years, after she majored in chemistry. She has her hands full, trying to bring-up four children on her own, and she has her work cut-out for her. Once she completes her PhD, she will probably be able to find a job at a college or university, make a living, and bring-up her family. Audrey, too, has to bring-up her daughter as a single parent. She has been working as a nurse ever since she graduated from nursing school; now, many years ago.


6          The fourth daughter, Darlene, has already completed her PhD and is teaching mathematics and physics in New Zealand, while Ingrid has been married and has two boys. Ingrid recently separated from her husband and she is now also a single parent, trying to bring-up her boys pretty well on her own, while working full-time. Ingrid and Audrey live closeby, while the others are in Ontario, British Columbia and New Zealand respectively. Fortunately, they all have done reasonably well, but, because of our own strict and disciplined approach to life, with consistently frugal habits, they all rebelled, at least to some extent, against what must have been to them a somewhat strange and harsh lifestyle, because this lifestyle was so different from the way other people lived and brought-up their children. Yet, they all have adopted most of our habits and outlook, because they realised, sooner or later, that it was the only way to get ahead; to stand on their own feet, and to accomplish something in life.


7          Indeed, we have emphasised to our children, from the beginning, the need to become independent, self-sufficient people; able to look after themselves and live within their means; without falling into the trap of depending on hand-outs of one sort or another. While they all thought that we had a rather harsh approach to life, they have come to adopt most of our attitudes and objectives, and we are very grateful for this, in spite of the fact that our opinions and evaluations sometimes clashed; especially, when we had a falling-out with Audrey over the way she brought-up her child. We became very critical of Audrey, who seemed to be so different. Audrey had a tendency to be dreamy and somewhat lax, and, because of the fact that she stayed "under our wings" for many years, as we looked after her girl when she was working, she lagged behind in her growth towards maturity and independence.


8          We became indeed very critical and domineering, which was depressing for Audrey, and, eventually, a minor row developed into a serious conflict, when she took Anya suddenly completely away from us, and broke all bonds. We were very upset and even tried to get access to Anya through the Courts, but we were denied this on account of the high level of anger and hostility that had set-in between us and Audrey. We over-estimated our rights as grand-parents and were denied any right to have contact with Anya. This was hard, especially for Diny, and it must also have been very difficult for Anya, who was not yet eight when this happened in February of '96. However, in retrospect, we should have not been so critical of Audrey, and she should have moved-away from us much earlier, and learn to live her own life. Now, she remained rather irrealistic and had a tendency to make serious mistakes. The break with Audrey was precipitated, when she took Anya out of school and embarked on a program of home-schooling.


9          This was a disaster, because she denied her child normal contacts with other children, but Audrey has always been very possessive of Anya and resented Anya's close contact with us, as well as with anyone else. Anya was a very outgoing personality, who needed and loved contact with other people. Our relationship with Anya was indeed completely different from the relationships we had with our own children. We were older, now, and we had more time. The atmosphere was far more relaxed than with our own kids. This led to a subtle friction with our children, as they became actually somewhat envious of this relationship with Anya; including Audrey. When Audrey took Anya away from us and moved away, physically, (by moving her trailer which had been set-up on our property), the other children supported Audrey's move and criticised us, except Romey. Romey had gone through a custody-fight over her oldest child with her first husband and his family, and she was the only one who understood Diny's sorrow when Anya was suddenly taken-away from her care.


10        There are some signs, now, that this period of separation is coming to an end. Diny has been extremely depressed as a result of this separation from Anya, and she has lost all confidence and trust in her children. She feels that all those years of looking after them and providing a stable home have not been appreciated, and she has become rather resentful towards her daughters, except Romey.


11        Ironically, Romey was for many years the furthest removed from us, because she broke-away from us soon after she finished high-school, and for many years we had only superficial contacts with her. However, when she became embroiled in a custody fight over her oldest daughter, she sought our advise and, gradually, contact was re-established. We have seen all our children move substantially closer to the attitudes and practices we have adopted ourselves. They all have seen the value of an ordened and disciplined lifestyle. They all are responsible parents and are doing their best for their children. None of them have become hooked on dangerous habits, such as smoking and drinking, drug addiction or gambling, but, they are not as frugal and efficient as Diny.


12        Certainly, in spite of the strict and somewhat authoritarian attitudes that prevailed in our family, all our children have had a far easier youth compared to Diny and I, and, even, if we never spoiled our children materially, or with a lax and undisciplined lifestyle, their security and stability was far greater than our own childhood. Therefore, we never felt sorry for them, even, if they complained, from time to time, about the fact that they were not allowed the same freedoms as youngsters around them. Now, they are just as disciplined and cautious about their own youngsters, because they have seen how easy it is for youngsters to go astray. Indeed, from this point of view, it is more difficult compared to our own youth, because the post-war era in Europe was one of building-up and a sense of gratitude and satisfaction. We did not see any of the excesses of violence, anger and waste that characterise so much of the rather weak, undisciplined and degenerate attitudes in our contemporary, affluent social environments.




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Chapter 10




Why native Canadians have been spoiled by a long period of easy and affluent living conditions.
Why youngsters growing-up in a European middle-class had a harder time.
A brief look at European and North-American history.
Anya.
Fortunately, the experiment with home-schooling lasted only two years.
The break with Ingrid.
We have now a working relationships with all our children.
We have become "poor travelers".
Our children are hard-working and responsible people, even if we do not agree with everything they do.
Neither one of us is a "bundle of joy", but, we are essentially content and grateful people.




1          Certainly, Diny and I were probably significantly "out of step" with a generation of parents that had never really suffered from the War and had never learned the value of a frugal and disciplined lifestyle. While we were keeping a close rein on our youngsters, others let their youngsters do as they pleased. In contrast with the middle-class social environments that were so prevalent in post-war Europe, (when it was being rebuilt after a devastating period of occupation and warfare), contemporaries of ourselves, who always lived on this Continent, had none of the same childhood experiences; nor were they exposed to the same need for obtaining a thorough education and making something of themselves. Here, in Canada, it was, by and large, much easier for youngsters to live and survive without accomplishing much. Especially in the rural areas, it was always possible to find a piece of land on which one could live. It was much easier to scrape by, especially, if parents were willing to give their youngsters a piece of land which they themselves had nearly always inherited, rather than bought and paid-for.


2          As a result, it was much easier for youngsters in this country to live and work, and even enjoy a rather generous income, without the need to complete a lengthy education, and to become a proficient professional in a branch of knowledge and expertise. Indeed, many youngsters, especially the boys, would just take-over the farming or fishing occupation from their fathers without acquiring any professional qualifications.


3          They could marry young, or, at least, they would make a girl pregnant at a young age, and these young people would then be provided by their parents with nearly all the necessities of having a home and running a household. They were given a piece of land and they would build, with the help of family members, a place to live in. They would be able to find employment in the small family-business, a farm or a fishing operation, which was often generously subsidised by the state. In short, there was rarely a compelling reason to complete an education and "become someone", because it was so easy to find a place to live, make a few dollars and live well, even, if it was just by cutting wood.


4          In contrast, it was not so easy in Europe to be given work or land by one's family; especially, if the parents belonged to the working middle-class, rather than the propertied land-owners, or the well-to-do business classes. For the propertied business class it was also possible to groom their offspring for a position in the family-business, or take-over a large farm, but, a large majority of the youngsters came from families where the parents had to work hard, and lacked to ability to hand to their offspring any significant property; nor did they have the ability to give them a job or a position in a family-business.

 

5          Certainly, many people living in the cities in Canada, are essentially in the same position, and youngsters born to middle-class urban or sub-urban professionals also have to study and complete a sophisticated educational curriculum, before they are able to tread in the footsteps of their parents. A physician can not hand-over his position and practice to his son or daughter, unless he or she is able to complete all the necessary training, and earns for him- or herself the qualifications to carry-out such responsible work.


6          Our experiences in Holland were, probably, more a reflection of the social background we came from, rather than an essential difference between the lifestyle of people in Europe compared to here. Nevertheless, the availability of land is infinitely greater, here, on the North American Continent compared to Europe, especially Holland, and we remind ourselves of the fact, that the primary attraction of immigrating to North America has always been the prospect of gaining some property through settlement, pioneering and hard work; while displacing, often, a native population that really had no means of stopping the gradual erosion of the territories they depended on for their livelyhood. In Europe the populations coming into conflict with each other as a result of territorial strife, often fought hard and the struggle was more evenly matched, while, here, in North America, the differences in culture and technology were so great, that the indigenous population had few chances to hold-on to their territories, unless they were willing to accept a for them by and large disadvantageous treaty.


7          The point I want to make, here, is the fact, that, just like so many other immigrant families, the rapid changes in circumstances and lifestyle contributed to a significant "generation gap", which also plagued, at least to some extent, our family. However, our children have now grown-up and, by and large, settled into a lifestyle and work-environment where they are able to function as responsible citizens. None of them are likely to "become rich", but, then, neither did we. I was never interested in maximizing my earnings-potential, because money did not mean anything. I did not have to measure success in the amount of money I made, and we were always content with a foundation of financial security that would allow us a dignified, unobtrusive and care-free old-age; where we could continue to live as we always have; independent, according to our own insights, without regard for the habits or fashionable opinions of other people. We set our own priorities, and we always looked at the long-term consequences of everything we planned or considered, and, by and large, we have come for few surprises.


8          We all have been blessed with a reasonably good constitution; free from any serious genetic defects. Certainly, we all have our problems and we all have to cope with an illness from time to time, but, fortunately, none of our children, nor any of the grand-children, are handicapped in one way or another. Our grand-children should also be able to become healthy, contributing citizens, in spite of the fact, that they all will have to learn, from scratch, or, rather, from their own experiences, in order to validate the examples, admonitions and directives they received from their parents. I never developed the same level of resentment against our children as Diny, as a result of the dispute that arose, now already about three and a half years ago. I hope that Diny will be able to overcome some of the bitterness that has set-in after she was denied, so suddenly and cruelly, contact with Anya.


9          We both took to Anya a great deal; more so, than to any of the other grand-children. The reasons are simple. Anya needed us, because her mother was often working all hours of the day. As a nurse Audrey would often have different shifts, and, later, when Audrey became somewhat depressed and slovenly, we felt even more sorry for Anya; especially, when she was denied normal contacts at school, and was locked-up in her room for many hours at a stretch, as Audrey desperately tried to make a success of an experiment we were so dead against.


10        Fortunately, this experiment with home-schooling lasted only two years, and Anya did not lose a year when she went back into the school system. Anya seems to be doing all-right at the present time, and I hope that the relationship between Audrey and us, and, of course, Anya and us, will be "normalised" in the near future; as Audrey learns to overcome her fear of losing Anya once again to us. Indeed, the primary motivation for Audrey to take Anya away from us was the fact, that she was losing Anya to us. Audrey was tense, depressed, and, during the last few years before the break, failed to take good care of Anya, who was coming ever more frequently to Diny for help and advise. After she moved away, Audrey finally learned to stand on her own feet, and, in spite of the mistakes she undoubtedly made, Anya and Audrey seem to have survived and have benefitted from being away from our constant influence and criticisms. We did not realise at the time that Audrey was getting depressed as a result of our increasingly critical attitudes, because we were getting often exasperated with her.


11        Audrey should have become more independent years ago, and we would probably never have had such a blow-up, but then, we would never have formed the bonds with Anya as we did. It was difficult, and still, our children only partly appreciate the fact, that the circumstances led to such a strong bond between Anya and us, while we saw our other grand-children only from time to time. Ingrid was a full-time home-maker and had relatively little contact with us, because she broke-away and lived with her future husband against our advise. Therefore, we did not get to see her and her children much, because she never needed someone to baby-sit them. However, as a result, we are not very close to them, nor are they close to us, and even the relationship with Ingrid is not very close. She has broken-away from her useless husband, who is a typical example of the lax, undisciplined and exploitative attitudes that are so prevalent; whenever parents lack the common-sense of insisting that their youngsters become independent; make something of themselves, and complete at least a rudimentary education.

 

12        Ingrid finally realised how poor her lifestyle was; how ignorant her husband was, and how badly he treated her. She is now a proudly independent individual, able to hold-down a job, even, if it does not pay much. She is in the process of getting a divorce settlement, even, if there are few assets to divide. She has come to recognise that our reservations about the man she moved-in with, and eventually married, were justified, but she still resents, at least to some extent, the fact that we are not close to her boys, and that Diny does not want to baby-sit them. After all, Diny has her clientele and gets frequently people on the door, especially, in the afternoon, which would be the time that Ingrid's children would be here, after school. Her husband is at least anxious to keep contact with the children, and, Ingrid and her husband have found a way of working together, and share the care for their children. Hopefully, the rest of the divorce settlement will be amicable as well, without the need to go through an expensive court procedure.


13        The other children also realise, now, better than before, why we were so focussed on Anya. We have done our best to get a bit more contact with the other grand-children, even, if we see them only from time to time, and, often, not even every year. Marion lives in Ontario and has come-over frequently during the summer months. We do not travel; partly, because we do not like it, but, primarily, because Diny does not want to leave the house alone; nor does she want to be away from her business for any length of time. She loves the work and she has little else to keep her occupied; and, especially, because of her chronic depression about the loss of Anya, she needs the work to keep her mind occupied. Indeed, it is impossible to leave the house alone for any length of time, and we would have to arrange for someone to look after the place, and, preferably, to live here when we are gone, if we would want to visit our children in Ontario and BC. This is the reason, why they tend to come and visit us, rather than the other way around. Besides, we have more facilities to house them.

 

14        However, another main reason is the fact that we have become "poor travelers". We hate the dense traffic in the big cities; we do not like flying, and we want to be home, in our own environment. Diny is still disappointed and resentful about what happened, but I am by and large able to acknowledge that these events were bound to happen, considering the circumstances and conditions that had sprung-up. I am satisfied that our daughters have now all become capable and independent people, with a good sense of duty and responsibility, and, I know that they are doing a reasonably good job for their own offspring, in spite of the fact that we do not agree with everything they do. However, they have the right to make their own decisions; after all, they have to live with the circumstances and conditions they are creating for themselves. We belong to a different generation and we are products from a different era. We have done our best, and we have succeeded, by and large, in bringing-up our children to become responsible and hard-working members of society, and they are likely to transmit the same sort of attitudes and directives to their own offspring.

 

15        Hopefully, Diny's attitudes of anger and resentment against her children is going to subside, and I hope that her spirits are going to lift somewhat. Neither one of us is a "bundle of joy", but, basically, we are content and grateful for the secure and pleasant conditions under which we can spend the "golden afternoon" of our lives.




.......

sa300f








Chapter 11




The attitudes and priorities that have shaped my thoughts and my life.
The link between attitudes and conditions of existence.
A growing awareness that we have the opportunity, and the obligation, to make something of ourselves.
My personality development is completely logical in view of my childhood experiences.
I finally learned to work hard and efficiently.
I felt that I started "from scratch" many times.
Scientific images from many different fields began to coalesce.
I have been guided primarily by intuitive insights, rather than a laborious and systematic documentation of my ideas.




1          This is the last chapter of the last essay, and I want to conclude my musings with a few words about the attitudes and priorities that have shaped my thinking and my life. Certainly, during childhood, we do not really make use of a conscious decision-making process that sets priorities and determines our outlook on life, because we are still searching for these important guidance mechanisms, and, we also know, now, that this search is not conscious or deliberate. However, as we are getting older and our personalities become more "formed", or "set", we are making increasingly use of the ability to choose for ourselves, how we want to react to the circumstances and conditions we are confronted with, and, what sort of outlook we are going to apply. Nevertheless, it is perfectly correct to say that this process of applying an increasingly voluntary choice is often guided by rather simple mechanisms; e.g., the experience that certain behaviour-patterns have "paid-off", because they have been encouraged by the social environment, while other choices of behaviour have been discouraged and are, therefore, less likely to be used as a means to fulfill our existential needs.


2          Every sensible social environment will encourage, through example and teaching, a set of guidance-patterns, attitudes or approaches to life, which become, then, part and parcel of a conscious and deliberately chosen framework for reacting to the realities of our existence. For example, a social environment that has come to value the ability to be strong and decisive; that is capable of resisting the pressures from competing people or social entities, and is inclined to use its own vigour and forcefulness to dominate others, will encourage, strongly, the attitudes of "martiality". This attitude is usually couched in terms of the ability to be courageous; to withstand adversity, and, even, the ability to withstand physical discomfort or pain; to be willing and able to engage in serious combat and risk life and limb for the protection of "the fatherland", or, at least, the community one belongs to.


3          On the other hand, if a community has become integrated into a much larger entity of social organisation, and, if the dominating influence of a competent leadership has been able to penetrate the cultural codes of the various sub-groupings that form together such an enlarged entity of social integration, we see a strong emphasis on the ability to learn and know about each other's beliefs and lifestyles. We see an emphasis on the ability, and the need, to tolerate people who are different from ourselves, and, we also see a strong pressure to refrain from settling disputes by violent means; because the larger, conglomerate social environment will have developed the necessary institutions to settle disputes by a process of competent and impartial investigations, capped by the imposition of a binding settlement and the ability to enforce a judicial decision.


4          People grow-up with all kinds of differences in emphasis, as well as differences in the degree of social integration. If we happen to have been born into a remarkably independent social environment that considers nearly all outsiders as potential enemies and a threat to their own existence, the emphasis will be on a rather cautious, or, even, a fearful approach to contacts with the outside. In our modern world, the mechanisms of social integration have proceeded to such an extent, that almost no-one grows-up, any longer, in an environment where there is no need or desire to have a working relationship with countless other human beings, who fall, essentially, outside the sphere of the immediate social environment.

 

5          The point we want to emphasise, here, is the fact, that we all experience an increasing awareness of the need to apply, consciously and deliberately, a number of behavioural choices; where we decide, how we can best fit-in, and obtain the objectives we need to fulfill in order to live a "good life"; to become an accepted member of society; to make a living and live our own lives as we see fit; a life that is being lived in accordance with the ideals and objectives we have set for ourselves. It is logical, therefore, that many youngsters become indeed well aware of the fact, that they have to "make something of themselves"; especially, if they can not rely on the immediate environment for continuing support, or the opportunity to feed-off a family business.

 

6          I was born into a family with few ties to a stable community. Just as is the case in our modern society, most professionals have to go where there is work, and integrating with a group of like-minded people in the immediate social environment is often difficult or impossible, as people with many different backgrounds are "thrown together". My parents were living and working in a Dutch environment in the Dutch East Indies, or "Indonesia" as it is known today. After all, the Dutch East Indies were still under Dutch control before WWII, but the employees working together on a sugar plantation formed a rather haphazard collection of people, who shared the existential interests of "making a living", but, little else. Besides, as I indicated before, the era was turbulent, especially, in the years leading-up to WWII, and the all-important formative period of age seven to eleven was spent under highly abnormal circumstances; as prisoners in a concentration camp, where the population was consistently starved to death, or, at least, was forced to live at a level that became easily incompatible with life; if one had the misfortune of contracting an illness.


7          It is not surprising, therefore, that my early childhood was characterised by a chronic sense of fear and uncertainty, and it may well have contributed to a life-long sense of caution and reflection, but, undoubtedly, the tendency to become introvert, shy and reflective was largely inborn, but brought-out by the circumstances. My younger years, and, certainly, the period of adolescence in high-school, were a mixture of somewhat different attitudes. On the one hand, I had a tendency to look back at the war-time period and I feared, from time to time, a slide into the misery of captivity, starvation or desperate poverty. On the other hand, I also indulged in dreaming about the future; about what I would like to become, how I would like to succeed, and I have indicated that my obsessive focus on the piano was both a blessing and a handicap. It was a blessing in the sense that it provided me with a focus to do my best, but it was a handicap in the sense, that the absence of proper guidance and a lack of insight into my own limitations and short-comings, made this a rather unproductive period in my life.


8          My cautious inclination prevented me from getting into trouble, even, as I was enjoying a remarkable degree of freedom and a lack of guidance, and it also made it possible to understand more about the nature of my own existence. I was never exposed to strong or dogmatic influences, and I was therefore able to mature slowly and formulate my own convictions. As I became older, I realised, more clearly, the drawback of a lack of guidance and discipline, and I remember very well, that I had to learn "from experience", rather than from examples at home or from the advise and guidance from other people. I "drifted" through high-school, and I worked only hard enough not to fail, because I did not like the idea to be left behind, but, at the same time, I had no stimulus to do my best, as I was so pre-occupied with dreaming about a musical career.


9          In many ways, my adolescence was somewhat sheltered from the realities of life, because I was never confronted with the need to make a living. My parents supported me well, be it modestly, and no-one had really much in the way of material affluence in the immedate aftermath of the war. There was, indeed, a generally euphoric outlook on life, as countless possibilities for making a living seemed to open-up. Even during my early years as a medical student I was in essence "drifting along", while attending classes very poorly; just scraping by in order not to be left behind. Then, the pace of developments and the existential pressures increased, as I became more serious about becoming truly independent; being able to marry and take my place in society, and, as I have indicated; from the time I met my future wife, I started to work harder and more conscientiously. My time in Montreal, at the MNI, was undoubtedly the most productive of my life, because, for the first time, I did really my utmost to learn and understand, in order to prepare myself for the fellowship examinations, which were the key to the ability to work as a neurosurgical specialist and make a living.


10        Yet, making money was never the primary objective. I had sufficient ambitions and objectives to push the desire to make money into the background. As long as we had enough to get by, I never hesitated to follow a course that would enhance my opportunities to learn and study, and, therefore, I never seriously considered breaking-off my studies and go into general practice, where the earnings would have been many times what I was getting as a student during my specialty training. Besides, my unfamiliarity with the field of general practice also inhibited any inclination to become a general practitioner.


11        I learned to study well. I learned to work hard and to set long-term goals. As I became more aware of my faculties and limitations, I also understood much better my failure at the piano. The few times that I took-up the study on the piano, I did much better and progressed much faster, but now, practical considerations, together with a lingering dissatisfaction about the slow pace of progress and the lack of time, made me abandon the study of the piano again and again.


12        I learned to see, that, so often, we have to start "from scratch". I started from scratch, in a way, when transferring from high-school to the university; I started from scratch when I immigrated and learned the medical profession in a different country, and, after many years in an academic environment, I started from scratch in private practice. I had to learn about all the practical aspects of a reality I had never been exposed to, as well as the need to buy a home and build-up some financial security. After all, I was not getting any younger, and the family was growing-up, requiring a modest but consistent financial support.


13        When I bought the boat and decided to learn about all the fieds of science and technology associated with the maintenance of the many different systems of equipment, (ranging from the electronic navigation instruments to the many materials that had gone into the manufacture of the boat and its fittings), I started from scratch, once more, and, when I decided to broaden the horizon of my interests and began to write seriously, I felt, once again, that I was starting from scratch.


14        Certainly, this meant that I was tackling, throughout most of my life, new and unexplored areas; at least, these areas were unexplored for me, and I am not saying that I was "pioneering" anything. This also meant, however, that I felt, finally, to be succeeding in my ambition to understand what life was all about; how we function, and, why the many different thoughts and ideas go through our minds as they do. Indeed, I became increasingly convinced that I was finally in a position to put a coherent imagery on the table about the nature of our existence. The fact that I had been exposed to many different branches of the medical, biological and life-sciences, meant, that these scientific images began to coalesce. They "explained" to me what we are; how we function; how we construct frameworks for the classification and ordening of our sense-impressions.


15        Having started "from scratch" many times, may well be a reasonable characterisation for the course of my life-cycle and the experiences that have played a role in developing my faculties; including the ability to grasp a large canvas of coherent structures of belief and explanation. The ability to see ourselves as a living organism, with the same biological inheritance as nearly all the other lifeforms; with a few special faculties "thrown in" as a result of the specific avenue of development which the forces of natural selection brought to the fore in the evolution of the human lifeform. All these ideas became a powerfully coherent force in the construction of the reality-perceptions that form the mainstay of my essays. Certainly, I have been guided, primarily, by my intuitive insights, rather than a laborious and systematic "documentation" of the ideas as they arose. First of all, I was not in a position to carry-out such a documentation, but, more importantly, I realised, from the start, that such a laborious approach would defeat the purpose, and would make it essentially impossible to grasp the realities in an all-encompassing but highly abstract manner.




.......






Chapter 12




The road towards a relativistic interpretation of our reality-experiences.
A persistent sense of coherent grasp.
Why a well-ordened and effective framework of priorities and attitudes will be the key to our viability and sense of well-being.
When we are doomed to stumble from one crisis to the next.
Varying, flexibly and appropriately, the input we have to provide.
Priorities are specific choices about the projects we engage in.
Learning to control, at least to some extent, our attitudes and outlook on life.
Obtaining control through insight rather than suppressing "difficult" sense-impressions.
Dealing with feelings of depression or hopelessness.
Recognising when we are "feeling sorry for ourselves".
We can learn a great deal of the relative validity or value of our moods, judgements and attitudes.
Looking at the many aspects we can be thankful for, and exploring the opportunities we still have to provide an input for improvement.
I have learned a lot and I am still learning.




1          The concept that our existential needs and wants form the major drive behind our patterns of behaviour, (including the patterns of belief and explanation with which we orden the stream of incoming sense-impression), opened the road towards a relativistic interpretation of reality, and my insights in the physiology of the body and its sense-organs, as well as some familiarity with the psychological mechanisms and experiences most of us are subjected to, formed the foundation for the ideas and theories I have put on paper; or, insofar as the last hundred essays is concerned, the concepts and ideas which I have put into the memory-banks of my computer. Yet, in spite of the overriding need to fulfill a number of existentially important requirements, it also became clear to me, that human beings are generally in an extra-ordinarily favourable situation, whenever they have a generous surplus of time and energy on their hands. This surplus of time and energy allows us to think and reflect about the past and plan for the future. This allows us to formulate "wants", in addition to the needs we have to fulfill in order to maintain ourselves in a position of good health.


2          The biological orientation of my outlook on life, and, especially, the biological foundation of all my concepts about reality-perceptions and behaviour-patterns, is clear and obvious to anyone who has looked at my work. The reason why I felt that it was appropriate, and important, to approach the philosophical questions about our existence from this point of view, lies in the fact, that, for the first time in history, there was such an abundance of observations and facts to back-up a view-point that emphasised the natural evolutionary background of all our faculties; including our thoughts and beliefs, our personality traits, as well as our deepest motivations and desires. Indeed, I have had the remarkable and probably somewhat over-confident feeling, for a long time, that the nature of human existence has lost, in essence, all its mystery for me. I have the distinct impression that nothing about human behaviour, in the past or the present, "surprises me".

 

3          Certainly, this does not mean, that I know "what to do" in each and every situation, anymore than anyone else, because, regardless how good our grasp over reality has become, (and how accurate our anticipations are about the course of future events), our faculties of grasp and understanding will necessarily be severely limited by our cerebral parameters. Our grasp is also limited by the time we have at our disposal to ponder the potential events of the future, together with the many technical adjuncts that provide us the necessary background information to construct such elaborate and useful models for the prediction of future events. Yet, in spite of these limitations, there is no doubt in my mind, that a rational, cautious and thorough approach to analysing the circumstances of the present and constructing a plausible framework for guiding future developments, is the only useful and meaningful way to get a grip over the future, and provide ourselves with a good chance to prepare ourselves for the events to come.


4          As we learn to appreciate, in our free and reasonably affluent societies, the element of an individualised choice, we are also saddled with the responsibility of providing an ever more precise and detailed input to the events that are going to determine the circumstances and conditions of our existence. This means, that the build-up of a rational, well-ordened and effective framework of priorities and attitudes is going to be the key to our ability to shape our lives in a way that conforms to our ideas and ideals about what we wanted to be or become, and, how we want to spend our time and energies. If we fail to make use of the opportunities of a modern and just social environment to build-up such a framework for an ordened input, whenever possible, we will necessarily squander many opportunities to shape our lives. Then, we will continue to stumble from one crisis to the next; never realising to what extent we have ourselves to blame for the rudderless lifestyle we are leading, and the degree of impoverishment we have brought upon ourselves.


5          Certainly, we will never control completely the flow of contemporary events. We will not be able to dictate how we want these events to proceed, and, even the best laid plans will sometimes go astray, as our plans and ambitions are overtaken by events that demand priority. Yet, we can be sure, that, without the ability to provide an input at an opportune time, we are going to miss all-together the opportunity to shape our lives and conditions of existence. Therefore, we have to remain flexible, while preparing to provide an input whenever possible or necessary. We remain vigilant and we monitor, closely, the events that are taking place around and within us, in order to shift our priorities when necessary. Then, we can vary, flexibly and appropriately, the input we have to provide, without becoming obsessed with any specific objective, ambition or existential demand. Flexibility, together with the ability to provide an appropriate input to a wide-ranging spectrum of circumstances and events, is the key to a life of productivity and happiness.

 

6          Priorities are specific choices about the projects we engage in, or the tasks we are bringing to completion. An attitude, like a mood, is a much more intuitive or subconscious bias, created by a "filter" that selects the way we interpret our sense-impressions, and influences the behavioural choices we are going to make. Just as priorities can be brought into a focus of conscious awareness and deliberate decision-making, so is it possible to gain a great deal of control over the bias, or filter, that determines our judgements and behavioural choices. However, we have to work at it. We have to realise, at least to some extent, how a mood and an attitude is being shaped by the primarily subconscious mechanisms of evaluation, and then, we can steer, or, even, choose, deliberately, what kind of mood we want to adopt, and what kind of attitude we are going to display.

 

7          Certainly, there is always a danger, here, that we are going to suppress a great deal of "information", or a large part of the incoming sense-impressions, because the deliberate adoption of a mood or attitude is going to "interfere" with the acceptance of this information. For example, if we want to be in a "good mood", we may have a tendency to ignore sense-impressions that give us a warning about the less pleasant events that are likely to take place in the near future. Similarly, if we want to display an attitude of confidence, or, even, exuberance, we are likely to suppress any warning-signs that would make us more cautious in our attitudes and more modest in our objectives. Therefore, the deliberate manipulation of moods and attitudes is indeed fraught with dangers and counter-productive effects; especially, if we are resorting to artificial means, such as a variety of drugs to influence our moods and attitudes.


8          However, a good insight into what is happening, and, how a somewhat subconscious process of "digesting experiences" is going to shape our moods and attitudes, also provides us with the means to take the initiative, rather than let these subconscious mechanisms dominate us. Certainly, in many cases, these subconscious mechanisms are doing their work effectively; especially, if we have cultivated an attitude of being honest with ourselves, and tackle our problems as soon as they manifest themselves. However, the insight that these moods and attitudes influence the way realities present themselves to our conscious awareness, gives us also the ability to provide, at least, a measure of deliberate input to these mechanisms.


9          For example, if we are somewhat depressed, discouraged and despondent for one reason or another, we can counter-act these moods and attitudes by reflecting, soberly and honestly, about the reasons for these attitudes. We may come to the conclusion, that, indeed, we have neglected warning-signs for a long time; that we should have "seen it coming", and then, we can "thank our lucky stars that the situation is not worse than it really is". Here, we are referring to a mechanism we have often advocated in order to combat a feeling of depression. We have to acknowledge, first of all, that things could get a lot worse, or, that they could have been a lot worse. The latter is a much more preferable conclusion, because the acknowledgement that a logical extrapolation of a series of events is likely to make our present conditions even more precarious, is indeed depressing. However, at the same time, we also notice, that we may have an opportunity to provide an input that is going to minimise the risk of events taking a turn for the worse. Besides, if this opportunity does not seem to be present; if we seem to be trapped into a spiral of events we can do nothing about, we are likely to abandon any attempt to deal with the realities and hide or submerge ourselves in an attitude of hopeful expectations, and a prayer for better times to come.


10        Yet, as long as we can see an opportunity to provide an input, any tendency to "give in" to an attitude of despair or despondency is going to be counter-productive, or, even, life-threatening, because we fail to maximise any potential to improve the situation. There is also the likelyhood that a mood of depression or despondency is essentially unjustified, because it may be based on an attitude of "feeling sorry for ourselves". If we have not been exposed to any serious hardships, setbacks or disappointments, we are likely to be "inexperienced", and we may indeed think that the world is coming to an end. Severe disappointments, especially in youngsters who have never experienced a serious setback before, are likely to lead to such unproductive moods of depression. Such a mood is often associated with self-destructive attitudes, and, therefore, proper guidance, together with the cultivation of experiences that promote self-sufficiency, endurance and resilience, are essential to show an individual to what extent we are able to control these feelings, as well as their accompanying moods and attitudes.


11        Certainly, we can not arbitrarily "put on" a mood or adopt an attitude, just because we think that we should display such a mood or attitude, but, we can learn a great deal about the relative value of our judgements and attitudes. We can learn to counter-act a mood of depression by looking at the numerous aspects we can be thankful for, as well as the many inputs we can still provide to make a situation better. Similarly, we can learn that an attitude of self-centered concern is counter-productive; that many other people have had very similar experiences, and, by curbing the attitude of a self-centered concern, we open-up a new world of experiences and inputs. These experiences and inputs are crucially important for our ability to formulate appropriate responses and viable judgements.


12        I have learned a lot throughout life, and I am still learning; at least to some extent I am still learning, in spite of the fact that the incidence of "something new happening" is getting increasingly less likely as we get older. Yet, there are always challenges, and we all face, from time to time, the task of looking carefully at our moods and attitudes with which we tend to respond, almost routinely, to these challenges. From time to time, we still discover a more refined and more appropriate response to a particular problem or situation. Even, if the satisfactions of such a slight improvement in our response-patterns are somewhat esoteric and best hidden from view, we can nevertheless continue to learn and improve the grasp over the realities we have to deal with, perhaps, even, until the final hours of our existence. Then, when our last hour has finally come, the relevance of responding appropriately to these realities begins to fade rapidly because of the impending dissolution of our existence and the irrelevance of our remaining existential drives.




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sa300s




Summary

1.   The origins of the family I came from.
An illustration of the concept of "less deserving heirs".
Where my parents met.
My entry into the world.
I barely survived my first few years.
A turbulent childhood.
A haphazard period of primary schooling.
A very good time after WWII in Thailand.
We probably owed our lives to the atomic bombs dropped on Japan.
Life in Holland after the war.
My own development was rather uneventful.
A shy and reflective personality.
A long-standing fascination with the piano.
My admiration for the Rumanian pianist; Dinu Lipatti.
Only later. I understood the secret of his remarkably sonorous piano-playing.
Why I never developed a sound foundation for playing the piano.
A neurotic blockage that coloured my personality for the rest of my life.
A lack of guidance, discipline and self-discipline.

2.   A period of rather extensive "day-dreaming".
At the end of high-school I abandoned any ideas about becoming a professional musician.
My studies at the University of Utrecht.
A remarkably casual approach to intellectual studies.
The ability to retain essentials after a single or even somewhat superficial exposure.
I had a good time in Utrecht.
The remarkable development of the vinyl LP record and the availability of a large classical repertoir.
How and when I started collecting records.
My records are still in excellent condition.
I never was an adventurous personality.
How I met my future wife, and how we began to plan our immigration.
Remarkably smooth and quick developments.
I repeated medical exams without having to go to Medical School.
My unconventional studying techniques came in good stead.

3.   A look at our immigration to Canada.
Differences in medical training between Holland and Canada.
The trip to Victoria B.C.
A remarkable first ten years in Canada.
Ambitious plans to continue my education at the MNI.
How a misunderstanding led to my acceptance.
The Montreal Neurological Institute.
A training that was heavily weighted towards "seizure surgery".
For the first time, I had to really work hard in order to learn at a rapid pace.
In 1969 I became a Fellow of the Royal College; the highest degree in the specialty of neurosurgery.
A look back at my bout with acute tuberculosis at the end of my stay in Victoria.
My health held-out well in Montreal.
My work-scedule as an intern and resident.
A brief look at our family.

4.   A hectic work-schedule suitable for younger people.
I enjoyed my stay at the MNI immensely.
I realised that I could not find a permanent job at the MNI.
A career in "private practice" and a desire to build-up some assets.
Working in a private practice was not easy.
It was tempting to go back to an academic institution.
We moved from New Foundland to New Brunswick.
Rapid changes during the first few years in Saint John.
I have always been a "reluctant surgeon".
I wanted a "break"; a sabbatical of a year or so.
The pay-off of a lifelong habit of living frugally.
A bold experiment with a frugal, near self-sufficient lifestyle in the country-site.
The various strands that led to an early retirement.
Why I began to write.

 

5.   A look at the woman who consented to be my wife.
A versatile, hard-working and capable personality.
The remarkable power of a competent, frugal and intelligent lifestyle.
The boat.
I taught myself how to sail and navigate.
I maintained the boat myself.
A permanent mooring along the ice-free coast of the Bay of Fundy.
The boat became a gateway to the world outside medicine.
How we prepared ourselves for a possible early retirement.
My wife's energy and versatility were the key to our success.
The costs of living were reduced to a fraction of what they were before.
We realised that it is impossible to live-off a small piece of land without making use of a modest steady income.

6.   It became clear that a seamstress could not hope to make a living without additional financial income.
We were living debt-free.
Keeping fixed costs at an absolute minimum.
Keeping the boat without any regular expenses.
Every year we could put a small surplus back into Canada Savings Bonds.
An all-important cushion of "slowly increasing savings".
Learning how to maintain a car.
At the time of retirement I converted my RRSP into a small annuity.
How we invested in "land".
Here we are, living in a beautiful home.
How we built our new home.
The experience and thought that went into the design and building of this home.
Throughout the years we have been in complete control over the way we lived.
I made good use of the "computer revolution" for my writing.

7.   I always think before I write.
It took me years, before I was more or less satisfied with my writing.
Europe before Nuclear War was written with a memory typewriter.
The Atari, my first word-processor, was a revelation.
From "letter quality" to a "type-set quality" printer.
Electronic publishing; via internet or CD-ROM.
Polishing is still a form of writing.
After I quit work I felt less of a need to go sailing.
I am not really comfortable with very stressful work.
The productive habit of taking care of chores immediately.
I would always plan carefully what I had to do.

 

8.   Why it is unlikely that there would not be any audience at all for these essays.
I wrote primarily, because it was "good therapy".
I never write, if it is not going well.
Pre-occupation with a problem suppresses any desire to write.
I relax primarily by listening to my classical records.
I never really enjoyed my own piano-playing.
We are opinionated people and like to keep our distance.
A look at our religious background.
I am only concerned with the logic and coherence of the countless tid-bits of information that are already available.
We never short-changed anyone with our lifestyle.

9.   A short biographical sketch of Diny, my wife.
How we got to know each other.
Her qualities were essential for our success in Canada.
Our five daughters.
In spite of initial reservations, our children have adopted many, if not most of our habits and attitudes.
A brief look at the dispute with Audrey.
Why Romey is quite different from the others.
We ran a strict and disciplined household.

10. Why native Canadians have been spoiled by a long period of easy and affluent living conditions.
Why youngsters growing-up in a European middle-class had a harder time.
A brief look at European and North-American history.
Anya.
Fortunately, the experiment with home-schooling lasted only two years.
The break with Ingrid.
We have now a working relationships with all our children.
We have become "poor travelers".
Our children are hard-working and responsible people, even if we do not agree with everything they do.
Neither one of us is a "bundle of joy", but, we are essentially content and grateful people.

11. The attitudes and priorities that have shaped my thoughts and my life.
The link between attitudes and conditions of existence.
A growing awareness that we have the opportunity, and the obligation, to make something of ourselves.
My personality development is completely logical in view of my childhood experiences.
I finally learned to work hard and efficiently.
I felt that I started "from scratch" many times.
Scientific images from many different fields began to coalesce.
I have been guided primarily by intuitive insights, rather than a laborious and systematic documentation of my ideas.

12. The road towards a relativistic interpretation of our reality- experiences.
A persistent sense of coherent grasp.
Why a well-ordened and effective framework of priorities and attitudes will be the key to our viability and sense of well-being.
When we are doomed to stumble from one crisis to the next.
Varying, flexibly and appropriately, the input we have to provide.
Priorities are specific choices about the projects we engage in.
Learning to control, at least to some extent, our attitudes and outlook on life.
Obtaining control through insight rather than suppressing "difficult" sense-impressions.
Dealing with feelings of depression or hopelessness.
Recognising when we are "feeling sorry for ourselves".
We can learn a great deal of the relative validity or value of our moods, judgements and attitudes.
Looking at the many aspects we can be thankful for, and exploring the opportunities we still have to provide an input for improvement.
I have learned a lot and I am still learning.




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