The 60’s and Me: A Kid on the Move
Baby Steps to Snowy Winters
By the 60’s, I’d been kicking around for seven years. Born in 1953, my family quickly moved to a flat in Breda, Graaf Hendrik III-laan. My memory flickers on at three—trudging through snowy winters to kindergarten, cursing the cold. That hatred of winter, born in those icy streets, never left me. You’ll see it in every story on this site. At four, a moving truck rolled up. That night, I slept in a new flat in Voorburg, Den Haag, Koningin Juliana-laan.
Moving Again, Finding Dreams
After three dull years in primary school, another truck arrived. I was allowed to ride in the cabin of the moving truck to Geldrop, near Eindhoven, to a street called ‘t Geluk—Happiness. The ‘60s kicked off for me there, and oh, what a ride. In fourth grade, Meester Maarten tried to tame me, but the 9-to-5 life wasn’t my bag. I drifted through school, staring out windows, counting birds, dreaming until the bell rang. My report card screamed failure—“Bas lacks effort and diligence.” I had to repeat the year, a pointless slog. Funny thing: my first ship, bought 14 years later, was named Zorg & Vlijt—Care and Diligence. Irony, huh?
My First Trip to Menton
At seven, my family whisked me off to Menton, South France, on the Côte d’Azur. I had no clue this vacation would shape my life forever. My first time abroad, and right on the Mediterranean—sparkling, crystal-blue water stretching endless. We shared a rented house with another couple and their two kids. The view was breathtaking, gazing out over the sea and the Italian border. It was probably the best holiday of my young years—I never wanted to leave. I saw palm trees and oranges growing on branches for the first time, and everything felt right, joyful, perfect. That I’d live in Menton for three years, 20 years later, was pure chance, but it felt like coming home. Even now, stepping back there, it’s like I belong.
Brommers and Bread Wagons
School bored me, but the neighbor’s son had a Simplex moped. Riding with him on the backseat—or sneaking the handlebars—was pure thrill. The smell of gasoline in his shed still lingers. Then there was Gerrit, the baker, delivering bread by horse and cart. Sometimes I was allowed to ride with him, soaking in the mix of horse sweat, manure, and fresh loaves—a scent I cherish. Vegetables, milk and eggs came the same way, delivered to the door. My dad, a Philips salesman, decided clarinet lessons would shape me up. I played decently but, too shy for the stage, ditched the dream. A blonde girl in class, though—my first crush—sparked something. I’m below and she’s on the right next to Mr. Maarten.
Den Bosch and Family Tensions
Another move, back in the truck cabin—to Den Bosch, where family was close, and Mom could walk to Opa and Oma’s. Dad worked for Philips, the holy grail in Eindhoven. At 10 or 11, I started seeing through him—his fake voice for “sacred” Philips callers drove me nuts. Mom, a housewife with no say, bore the brunt of his control. Tensions brewed, erupting in shouting matches. My brother and I didn’t hold back, making home a battlefield. Birthdays were a farce—chairs in a circle, family and neighbors pretending all was well. We’d escape to our rooms or bolt.
LTS: My Real School
Dad’s next move—to Hintham-Zuid, Den Bosch, Hendrik Wiegersma-laan—was his first home purchase. Primary school was done (thank God), and I started at the LTS—Low Technical School, a letdown for Dad’s HBS dreams. But LTS was my salvation. Learning with my hands—wood, metal, tools—backed by theory, clicked. I was class rep, top of the class, three years running. Coming from a middle-class family, with a “fancy” godfather (Cees van Gaalen, owner of Chalet Royal), I met kids from working-class and rough homes at LTS. Their treatment by some teachers pissed me off. I stood up for them, a hatred of injustice that’s never faded.
Streetwise and Ready
Home got rougher—cursing, brutal arguments, hilarious in their absurdity. I hung with all kinds, ate at their homes, learned their slang. I got streetwise, seeing kindness in every corner of society. By the late 60’s, as the kraakbeweging swept the Netherlands in 1969—youth claiming empty buildings for freedom—I was ready for the Art Academy, my next leap.
Talking about a real 60’s breakout
Boots marks Sinatra’s transformation from “Nancy nice lady,” as she says, to a fully-formed and self-assured figure of empowerment both in appearance and in performance, making her forever synonymous with the album’s titular subject in the process. A top 5 album at the time of its release, Sinatra scored a No.1 hit on both sides of the Atlantic with “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’,” which earned three GRAMMY® nominations and sold over a million copies of the single. The album marked her first full-length release with writer, producer, and collaborator, Lee Hazlewood, which features a mixture of Hazlewood-penned tunes and selections from heavyweights The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, and more.
Facts or Notable Events from the 60s
Monterey Pop’s Wild Vibe (1967): Picture 200,000 souls crammed into a California fairground, grooving to Jimi Hendrix setting his guitar ablaze. The Monterey International Pop Festival wasn’t just a concert—it was a raw, sweaty explosion of rock, soul, and freedom. Otis Redding belted his heart out, and The Who smashed their gear. Filmed for a gritty documentary, it showed the world what youth could do. No mainstream polish here, just pure chaos and love. [Source: Library of Congress Archives]
Folk Revival in Smoky Cafés (1960s): Forget big stages—folk music roared back in tiny Greenwich Village coffeehouses. Young rebels like Joan Baez and Bob Dylan (before he went electric) strummed raw tunes about injustice, inspired by old public domain folk songs like “House of the Rising Sun.” These weren’t radio hits; they were cries from the streets, sung over cheap coffee and cigarette haze. [Source: Adapted from Smithsonian Folkways]
Hair Shocks Broadway (1968): A musical called Hair hit New York, and it wasn’t your grandma’s show. Hippies, drugs, anti-war chants, and a brief nude scene shook the stage. Its rock score screamed youth rebellion, not plot, kicking off the rock musical era. Mainstream critics clutched their pearls, but kids loved it. [Source: Adapted from Encyclopedia.com]
Tom Lehrer’s Free Songs (1960s): Satirist Tom Lehrer mocked the world with biting tunes like “Pollution” and “The Vatican Rag.” Unlike most ‘60s artists, he tossed his songs into the public domain, free for all. No copyright hassle—just sharp, funny music from a math professor who didn’t care for fame. [Source: TomLehrerSongs.com]
Kraakbeweging Sparks (1969): In ‘69, Dutch youth started squatting empty buildings, like my Orthenstraat days. It wasn’t just about free rent—it was a middle finger to landlords and rules. Amsterdam’s “krakers” turned abandoned flats into art hubs and party dens, setting the stage for your hippie years. [Source: Dutch Social History, 2015]
Family Circus Hits Papers (1960): Bill Keane’s Family Circus cartoon debuted, capturing suburban life with a kid’s eye. It wasn’t flashy, but its quirky humor charmed readers. No big media hype, just a quiet strip that stuck. [Source: Adapted from HobbyLark]
The Kiss of Life – This photo won the Pulitzer Prize in 1968.
Randall Champion accidentally touched a high-voltage line, electrifying himself and stopping his heart. Fellow lineman J.D. Thompson performed CPR until paramedics arrived. Champion survived and lived until 2002.
