The Dutch Master: Part 1
By Wes Bateman
To a man who is blind, those that can see have extrasensory perception. The highest form of extrasensory perception is to
perceive the Will and purposes of the Creator of All That Is.
I was born on March 21, 1937 (the first full day of spring) ~n Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. My mother was of German, Dutch extraction and my father’s line was Welsh, English and Irish. Within a few years of my birth the world would experience the sufferings and terrors of World War IL
I was the third child of seven that would eventually complete our family. I was respectively named Wesley Howard after my paternal and maternal grandfathers.
As a family we lived with my mother’s parents Howard and Emma Becker in a house that was built during the Revolutionary War. It was a four-story house including a basement and attic.
For a short period of time we lived in Maryland, as my father was stationed at Boiling Field air force base near Washington DC. as the coach of the base basketball team. We returned to Pennsylvania just prior to the end of the war.
In 1945 it was the decision of my mother and her ten surviving bothers and sisters that I should live with my maternal grandparents to assist them by doing chores and running errands. They were then both in their seventies, and further more my grandfather was paralyzed and for nearly 27 years he laid on his back in a double bed located in the front room with little to do, but read and look at the ceiling. On very rare occasions he would listen to a very old but treasured radio.
My grandparents spoke both English and Pennsylvania Dutch (a dialect of German). Naturally, by association, I learned to speak Dutch. The tradesmen I had to deal with would deliberately ignore me if I did not ask for cheese, butter, or pipe tobacco by their Dutch names. I believe it was their way of insuring that their unique culture would continue. For some reason, unknown by me after my grandparents passed on, I totally lost the ability to speak Dutch and I honestly can’t remember a word of the language, no matter how hard I try.
It is really needless to say that we were poor people because just about everyone else at that time was just as poor and in many cases worse off than we were. Our bellies were always full with homemade bread, pies, and pastries. I still dream of scrapple, liver pudding, and tasty knockwurst.
I was able to pursue my hobbies of stamp and comic book collecting by delivering newspapers and mowing lawns. In the spring and summer on every Saturday I mowed the lawns of my paternal grandparents, their widowed neighbor and a huge lot that separated their properties. For this tremendous physical task received $1.00 and a bath. This was truly an occasion as bathing at home was done in a galvanized washtub with water that was heated on a coal burning stove in the kitchen. Additionally any call of nature required a trip to the privy located in the back yard.
Now after all the above has been said my story really begins:
The Pennsylvania Dutch in those days were very superstitious, they believed in casting spells (hexes) both to cause harm to others and for their own protection.
Many a time we were visited by one or more of my uncles who would drive hex nails in to the widow sills and sprinkle salt about my grandfather’s bed in order to protect him from evil forces, One of my uncles (Ray) was considered to be a very powerful “Pow Wow Doctor” and was widely sought after by members of the Dutch community to relieve them of evil spells and other types of ailments. His wife Ida on the other hand was thought to be a witch.
During a large family gathering a group of us children told ghost stones and during that time one of the group mentioned that they had heard that a witch would not step over a broom in fear that the broom would rise into the air and take the lady with it. A plan was devised to check out the truth of this story scientifically, using aunt Ida as the subject of a test. A broom was leaned against the wall in the kitchen next to the door (out of sight) By some pretext aunt Ida was lured to follow our group into the kitchen. The last of us who preceded her through the door had the job of causing the broom to fall across her path. This was done. To our astonishment she stopped, shrieked and then laughed. The broom untouched took two short hops toward us. We open the door to the back yard and fled. Looking back at the house we saw aunt Ida standing on the back porch holding the broom. We waited until she left for home before we went back to the house. I for one never saw her again.
The house consisted of three down stairs rooms. The front room where Grandpa was, the center room where Grammy slept and the kitchen. The kitchen consisted of a stove, table, chairs, icebox window box, and a sink with a single cold-water tap. Over the table hung a bare light bulb hanging from a chain from the ceiling. The light was turned on and off by pulling a string.
One winter night I walked from the front room to the kitchen for a cup of water. Once leaving the front room I was in total darkness.
I managed to reach the sink and felt around for my tin-drinking cup. I couldn’t find it. I then attempted to find the light string, so I could turn on the light. I felt for it but could not locate it. Suddenly two very large hands took hold of me under my arms and lifted me in to the air, a very gentle male voice said my name ~several times as my head touched the 10 foot ceiling, During the lift the light bulb covered by kitchen grease slipped down my back.
The giant man (?) then lowered me to the floor and released me I ran toward the lit front room and reported my experience. My grandmother immediately went to the kitchen and returned to say that no one was there and that the backdoor was locked from the inside. She added that I must have been imagining things.
When she made her last statement my grandfather raise his voice and said: “Look at the back of the boy’s shirt.” This she did and reported that there was a broad brown streak of kitchen grease on it. I always wondered how he knew this when in my excitement and fright I never thought to mention it.
That same winter on a snowy night, I was in the kitchen with my visiting mother and her cousin Evelyn who in a startled voice called our attention to a very large white longhaired cat sitting outside on the window icebox looking in. This was strange because the box was at least forty feet above the next-door neighbor’s yard it was a shear drop. There was no trees or any other type of means that the animal could have used to get to that spot. Suddenly it disappeared.
The on a night of the following summer it was sitting in my “Moms chair” with my drawing board cross its arms copying a picture from a book, when I experienced a strange feeling, and for some unexplainable reason I blurted out: There’s a bat in the house. My grandmother immediately began to express her doubts and criticize me for having an over active imagination. Just as my grandfather shouted, “quiet woman the boy is right” a large bat came flying into the room. It flew in circles over his bed and made several passes at my head. Moments later I realized that grandmother had left the room to obtain a broom, which she used to knock the creature to the floor. She then picked it up and placed on the front porch.
The conversation between my grandparents that followed the “bat event” was bewildering to me, especially the statement of my grandfather, which was: “The time that the boy should be taught and guided has come. There will be no more argument about this matter.
Dutch Master Part 2, will appear
the MARCH'S UPDATE of this Website.
Please visit my web site at:
www.geocities.com/CapeCanaveral/Hall/3324/
