Why Beverly Van Beaver Dam?

I am a daughter of the Dutch diaspora, born in Holland, Michigan. I was raised a member of the Christian Reformed Church, went to Holland Christian High School, and Calvin College. The Holland/Zeeland area is now a more multicultural place than it was then, when it was considered funny to say “If you’re not Dutch, you’re not much.” We thought of ourselves as Dutch, in ways I can’t quite comprehend now that I know something about the Netherlands.

I’ve left West Michigan, and these days I “pass” as just another American, but inside I am still a tribeswoman. I am very strongly from somewhere quite different from most of America, from my current life, and from the Netherlands, for that matter.

I think if I were from an African American, Italo-American or Jewish community, the type well known from books and movies, it would be easier to convey where I come from. The thing is, West Michigan is a small place, and it's hard to explain, even to the people I know, that it's distinctive enough to merit explaining. And then, once I try to convey the specifics - no TV on Sunday, undistinguished cooking, much work, judgmental neighbors - it creates more sympathy than empathy. It's hard to explain the sweet experiences: the joy of potlucks, hymn singing, wry conversation. The community gave its members support as well as surveillance. The work ethic was not just anti-pleasure, but offered us pleasure in our products. We were not just stingy, but we believed that consumption was not the point of life. Garrison Keillor knows how to convey what's been lost as well as gained for those of us who have moved on from small town, church-heavy communities. But my stories aren't as good as his, and it's awkward to deliver fifteen-minute monologues in everyday conversation.

My mother was born in Beaver Dam, a village south of Zeeland. “Van Dam,” of course, is a common Dutch name. I am, however, American, from Beaver Dam. Why Beverly? What better name for a girl born in the late baby boom who appreciates alliteration?

Rest assured, this blog is not about my secret life as a West Michigan Dutch tribeswoman. But a secret tribeswoman is writing it. . .