Growing up Dutch: When part of your identity fades to memory
Every morning, my Oma fed the birds. She spread Pindakaas, a thick Dutch peanut butter, on old, crusty bakery bread and set the slices on a splintered wooden birdhouse. I watched the birds feast on the food throughout the day, and soon enough, the bread would be mere crumbles … Read moreGrowing up Dutch: When part of your identity fades to memory