Amsterdam Angel
Amsterdam Angel
Jason Anthony
For my Mother and Father
Names and identifying details of some of the people portrayed in this book have been changed.
“Tell me, gentle traveler, thou
Who hast wandered far and wide,
Seen the sweetest roses blow,
And the brightest rivers glide;
Say, of all thine eyes have seen,
Which the fairest land has been?”
“Lady, shall I tell thee where,
Nature seems most blest and fair,
Far above all climes beside?—
‘Tis where those we love abide:
And that little spot is best,
Which the loved one’s foot hath pressed.”
---Rumi
Special Thanks to:
My Brothers
Derek
Agata & Jim Van Haren
Michael Tubbs
Jennifer Dawson
David & Giovanni
Luke Pidgeon—cover design
Amy Van Haren
Karen Ingraham
Patrick Price
1
Every summer my brother Joe and I watched with amazement as the sunflowers we planted in the spring sprouted and grew. We’d stand amongst them as they towered over us, stretching and reaching for the warmth of the sun’s light so they could continue to grow.
Although Joe was exactly fifteen months older and just a hair taller than me, we were sometimes mistaken for twins, given that we both had blue eyes and wore our fine, straight brown hair in a bowl cut. Our mother also dressed us alike. In the summer our wardrobe consisted of brightly colored seventies-style track shorts and muscle tank tops, which draped our skinny frames. Winter wardrobe consisted of “Joe Cool” Snoopy sweatshirts and sweatpants. We were both big fans of Snoopy.
I always looked up to Joe, believing he did everything better than me. He ran faster, his art was neater, and at shared gymnastics classes he could do a round-off cartwheel straight into a back handstand flip with ease and grace. I stopped after the cartwheel, afraid to go backwards into the flip without the help of our teacher. And after I fell from the parallel bars once, I told my mother that I wanted to quit. Thus my gymnastic career ended, while Joe’s carried on.
Our family’s two-story home in Grand Rapids, Michigan rested atop a large hill that included its open backyard. Joe and I shared a bedroom on the lower level. Outside our room was a large playroom that opened to a deck overlooking the garden of sunflowers near the base of the stairs.
At the bottom of the hill, we had a sandbox, a swing set, and some monkey bars with a slide. Beyond, the land stretched into an orchard filled with cherry trees we would climb and snack from in the summer. Past the orchard was a long field of waist-high grass, perfect to hide or lie down in, and we could run freely from there into the open space that continued farther than our eyes could see. There was even a small stream to walk along and explore.
