I hardly ever read the obituaries. Last Thursday I did, and there was his name: Piet Ruigrok-van de Werven. In a second I was back in my childhood.
Uncle Piet and his wife An (aunty An) lived a few doors from our house, somewhere in the outskirts of Haarlem. They owned a typical Dutch snack bar: a greasy, wooden trailer where you go to buy a unhealthy portion of fries drowning in mayonnaise. For us kids that and the little candy shop across the street of where our school was were the magnetic spots in our neighborhood.
So off course I was proud to live in the same street as uncle Piet and aunt An. As a little kid their daughters would baby sit me and my brothers and sister, but that is a whole different story.
Piet began his business in the fifties, with a mobile snack bar, as you can see in the picture. He settled somewhere round 1974 I think, at the BelgiĆ«laan. I remember there was a big party to celebrate 5 years of “Friet van Piet” (Piet’s Fries). We kids got free fries and soda and then we were taken to the movies. And everyone of us wore his blue “Friet van Piet – 5 years”-cap, with pride!
Over the years Piet had his difficulties with the health inspection, I reckon. There was even this saying in Haarlem: ‘Eet friet van Piet en je haalt de 65 niet’ (eat Piet’s fries and don’t reach 65). Well, Piet himself died at the age of 81.
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