Eric Georges Charles Weets's Page

I want to tell something that happened more than 40 years ago, to be precise 43 years. And in spite of the fact that this event occured so far in the past, I remember it so clear and bright as if it happened yesterday, probably because of the immensity of the impact it had on me that morning I stood there, not far from the church, in front of the butcher’s shop, waiting on the 65 to come.

I planned to go with the bus to Antwerp city where my mother lived that time. Not so much to bring a visit… Continue

BIOGRAPHY: ERIC G. C. WEETS

By Filomina Pawar.

Because of the wife of an Austrian customs official, who brought a boy in this world named Adolf; who in his turn saw a chance to put the world in fire; a young French speaking Belgian wanted to fight for his country and became a soldier. At the end of the war he fell in love with a kind Flemish village girl, which led consequently, that on the third day of August 1951 a just born baby, in an utmost uncomfortable, upside down position, shed his fi… Continue

It was, for everybody, a special moment when these two guys in grey dustcoats carried, with the necessary difficulties, the big carton box, containing our brand new television from the front door, through the hall way, into the kitchen. The strong man put the quite heavy looking box on the kitchen table, because grandmother was still busy with cleaning the top of the small wooden table, on which the radio stood before. They put the poor radio, for the time being, in the next room on the sofa the… Continue

We had a lot of this blue cover paper in stock, because brother dear bought much too much of it in the beginning of last school year. Grandmother threatened that time that he had to bring back the overload of cover paper to the newspaper shop, because money was not growing on her back. But in practice the blue paper came to lay on the highest shelf in our inbuilt closet.

Sending us back to the shop, if we bought of something too much, did grandmother rarely. The strange woman was namely afraid… Continue

With his lower back leaning against the edge of the teacher’s desk, the badly shaven face explained us what all we could expect in the coming school year. It was mostly going about reading and writing and learning to calculate.

To each of us the teacher distributed a paper smelling of stencil spirit. I knew that smell also, because when my brother came from school and opened his schoolbag on the table to start his homework, the same smell wafted and prickled my nostrils, every time again and I… Continue