The 60’s and Me

The 60’s and Me  

Born in ‘s-Hertogenbosch (Den Bosch) on March 18, 1953, I was already on the move by August, heading to Breda at five months old. My dad, a salesman, kept us packing—by 1960, I’d lived in four Dutch towns: Den Bosch, Breda, Voorburg-The Hague, and Geldrop. At 7, with already three moves behind me, I was no stranger to change.  

School didn’t grab me. The 9-to-5 rhythm felt wrong from the start, and my report cards showed it. At 10, I had to repeat class 4—bloody hell! It didn’t help much. By 11, we were back in Den Bosch, near family. Dad dreamed I’d hit HBS (college prep) and university, but my grades pointed elsewhere. Instead, I landed at the LTS—Lower Technical School—to train as a carpenter, electrician, or metalworker. Bulls-eye! For the first time, I learned with my hands, blending logic and craft. I topped the class three years running and served as class rep. Those skills—building, fixing—still shape me today.

Around then, I started oil painting, a knack for drawing pulling me in. After LTS, I joined the Art Academy, first in Tilburg, then Den Bosch, but another move—to a suburb—kept life shifting. At 16, I swapped my bicycle for a moped: trendy, with a high, wide steer and a tuned, fast engine to show off. No more cycling 15 km a day in Dutch rain—I knew even then this climate wasn’t my forever home.

My room screamed the ‘60s. Posters of The Beatles, Stones, Procol Harum, The Byrds, Jimi Hendrix, and Bob Dylan covered every wall. Theire music fueled me. I hit local concerts—mostly cover bands drenched in flower power. And then, wow, my first girlfriend—talk about becoming a man. Fashion changed rapidly and my girlfriend was wearing those mini skirts, men did I like that, also my hair started to grow, my beard was getting serious now too. Difficult age for sure…

Dive into the full story here: