An open letter from the VanRooyen family

Thanks to all of the friends and family that have come to pay tribute to my father, Joe VanRooyen. Our family very much appreciates your prayers and support, and I thank you for your kindness.

In writing my father's obituary, I reflected on the many hardships he suffered and great adversity he faced in his lifetime. He was born to a single mother, served with the French Resistance in World War II, survived not just one, but two Nazi concentration camps, immigrated to America with $35 in his pocket, and lost his young wife to cancer on - as it turns out - the very same day of the year that he would die 33 years later.

Yet not one of you who have come to pay your respects to him these last few days have ever said "he had a difficult life" or "he can finally be at peace." Quite the contrary. With each word of sympathy came a smile, a laugh and a nice story recounting Dad's wonderful, warm, positive spirit. He loved life, and through adversity, he grew to appreciate how precious it was.

On this day, 33 years ago, he attended the funeral of his first wife, Trudy. After her funeral, he wrote this letter of thanks to Carolyn Riley of 15311 Krepps Road:

"My boys and I are deeply grateful for friends like you and so many others. This country and the people here have been good to us, and maybe someday I will have the chance to give back a little of what I have received."

As circumstances would have it, he married Carolyn three years later, and together they built a home and a life together. They also created a family; a big bizarre happy family that would take on a life of its own. And through it all, he developed a unique and special relationship with all 10 children. He made no distinction between Riley and VanRooyen - he loved, nurtured and cherished us all.

Modern society would have us believe that the greatness of a man is measured by the acquisition of money, fame, possessions or status. If this is true, my father was only modestly successful. But if greatness in a man is measured by character and contribution, by honesty and integrity, by qualities of the heart and soul, my father is one of the greatest men I've ever known. He was a model husband, a strong, supportive father, and an honest and forthright businessman. He loved his wife, his children, his fishing (Lord knows he loved his fishing!), his workshop, and his life. In many ways, my father lived the American Dream: he immigrated to America with nothing, built a business, became a dedicated member of his church and community, raised a loving family, and sent his sons and daughters out into the world.

In First Corinthians, the Apostle Paul says: "Keep your eyes open, stand true to the Lord, act like men, be strong, and whatever you do, do it with kindness and love"

As I personally say goodbye to my father, I do so with a great sense of pride. I'm proud of him, for the way he lived his life. He taught us all to be a positive influence on the world around us. And I have no doubt that our circle of friends, our community and our world is a better place because of Joe VanRooyen.

So make this day of remembrance a glad one. Because today we say goodbye to a man who did it right: who lived life with integrity, who loved much and was greatly loved in return. As for me, I only hope I can live as well.

If you would please bow your heads for a moment, I would like to offer a brief prayer:

Our Heavenly Father, we thank you for giving us Joe VanRooyen. We rejoice in his life and his example. and we give him back to you and your safekeeping. Hold him in your presence, and deliver him home. In Jesus name we pray. Amen

Joe VanRooyen: recalling a good and decent man

You won't find lengthy articles in local history books about Joe VanRooyen, or read flowery stories about the multiple contributions he made to the community, but in his own way Joe represents the very best of our area - and its people. We will miss the man who passed away Nov. 16.

Joe was a good and decent man, using his God-given talents and learned abilities to skillfully patch up worn leather shoes and boots - and often mending torn and tattered human beings in the process. He enjoyed interacting with customers - who quickly became 'friends' - that frequented Joe VanRooyen Shoe Store and Repair which was located for many years near the end of the third block of Clinton Avenue in downtown St. Johns.

My memories of visits to Joe's shop are probably similar to other long-time area residents - the wonderful aroma of good leather, rows of shoe and boot boxes stacked neatly on the shelves that lined both ends of the store where at the rear Joe would be standing behind the counter - or often, barely visible in the back room , making repairs with his skilled hands.

A conversation with Joe was a real treat - the cadence of his voice fitting perfectly with the agile fingers that prodded the torn seams of shoes and boots and skimmed over the worn leather surfaces. I can't recall a single visit to Joe's shop that didn't include the question, "And, how are you today?" asked not in a rhetorical manner, but with genuine concern.

Years later, after learning that Joe had immigrated in 1955 from the Netherlands where he served during World War II and spent time in a Nazi concentration camp, his interest in the well-being of others took on a new meaning. Each day, each moment was a treasure - like the leather he worked with, something to be preserved and cherished.

I'm fortunate to still have one item that Joe's hands made whole again, a pair of Teva sandals. That repair job on a pair of brand-new sandals - which quickly became old after a little stray dog my son, Aaron, brought home decided to use as a chew-toy - came late in Joe's career. He had moved from Clinton Avenue and was working in a small shop that fronts Higham Street behind the Treasure Chest when I pulled the leather sandal with its chewed-up strap out of a bag.

"Well, we'll see what we can do," Joe said, the 'w' in each word intoned as a lovely 'v' sound which was so pleasing to the ear.

Repair of the original strap was beyond even Joe's abilities, but he quickly decided he could easily replace the damaged leather with a new piece. Actually, the 'new' strap was a slightly used piece of leather that Joe found in rummaging through a stack of old shoes - nothing went to waste in Joe's hands.

Those sandals logged many miles in the following years - they've walked along Lake Michigan beaches, waded through the Falls River near L'anse and made countless trips up and down the lane with my dear Mollie.