Sunday, April 26, 2026
...New Jersey is the place to be.... (sung to the tune of Green Acres)
In a way, Dirck and that song are kind of linked at the hip for me. We grew up in New Jersey and Dirck spent the better part of his 79 years there. As the oldest of six siblings, he was in many ways, the leader of the band. I have always maintained that Dirck got the brains, Heidi and Liese got the looks, Leif got the money and Pieter and I were left out in the cold (Insert the official Uptegrove Coat of Arms).
I learned at an early age that Dirck was going to be a hard act to follow. For example, when he was taking piano lessons I whined to dad that I needed to learn the piano too. That’s where he learned to read music and I learned I had two left hands. There was another time dad took Dirck to get eyeglasses and I whined to dad that I needed glasses too. So the optometrist did the eye exam and told dad that although Dirck did need glasses, my eyes were fine but there seemed to just be a disconnect between my optic nerves and my cerebrum.
Dirck was genius level smart to me. He was also the last person I knew who actually was able to solve complex mathmatical equations with a slide rule. I used it to draw straight lines on paper with a pencil. As a student, Dirck would cry if he got an A minus. I celebrated if I got an F+.
Dirck excelled at art - like oil painting - where I had trouble mastering finger paints (the white paste was tasty however). He also worked and earned his way through college which led him to one of the longest careers in doing the same job in the same spot for multiple companies. I often thought he just got a table and chair and they built the building around him.
As well as the piano, Dirck excelled at the flute - maybe excelled is too mild a word - then, when the girls came along he learned to play the violin (which he may have borrowed from Jack Benny.) Once, when we were in the Stillwater house, I was playing Greensleeves on the guitar. Dirck got some blank music sheets and proceeded to have me stop and start playing the song until he had it all down on paper. When he was finished he showed me the results - I was utterly gob-smacked - it looked like somebody had spilled an ant farm all over the page. More impressive is he could make heads and tales of it and then play it.
When I was about 5, it is a little known fact that, in spite of Dirck’s mild manner and Clark Kent glasses, he was really the mastermind behind “The Great Christmas Caper of 1954”. We used to put up the Christmas tree on Christmas eve. We decorated it with the usual odd assortment of ornaments and a long paper chain we kids hand crafted and added to every year. (At one point I’m sure, if layed out straight, would have reached to the moon and back). We did all the normal Christmas eve things, and right before bedtime hung the stockings (with care) and then were forced marched to the bedroom to suffer through the long night until daylight - when we could finally open our presents. This year, however, would be different. Dirck led the conspiracy to do the bold and unexpected. He and Iwould wait until mom and dad were asleep and Santa had time to deliver the goods and then do a stealth raid on the presents under the tree! So, in the wee hours of Christmas morning we snuck quietly out of the bedroom and made our way slowly and stealthily to the tree. We first made sure that Santa had taken the bribe of milk and cookies we set out for him. Good, bribe taken and there was treasure under the tree. So far, Dirck’s plan was working to perfection...so we sat there passing presents back and forth, hefting them, shaking them, squeezing them and guessing what they might be - - - when one that I was checking went POP!!!! The sound echoed through the house like a gigantic peal of thunder! That sent us scurrying back to the bedroom, back into our beds and pretended we were there blissfully dreaming of dancing sugar plums. Dad, to say the least, was not tricked or amused. So much so, that he got a broom and used it to prop the bedroom door shut! We were caged! Somehow I think dad blamed me (halo and all) instead of Dirck, but in the end it worked out as the present that created the POP was the cellophane window of the box holding what would become my favorite stuffed animal...Kanga and it the pouch, Roo. (Somehow I also got the blame for “The Great Hillcrest Avenue Acorn Wars” but that was probably only because Dirck had that mild mannered intellectual personna and - - - those glasses!).
From puppet shows to an array of younger siblings, a large menagerie of pets and several house moves, Dirck went on to higher education, marriage, two daughters, two grandchildren, and, amazingly enough, all in New Jesrsey. So, how do you condense a lifetime into a few paragraphs? Dirck was always just there, even when he wasn’t. (That will make sense to some) Hard to try to follow in an older sibling’s footsteps. As it turned out, two roads diverged in a wood...
One last thought about Dirck provided to me by mom. When she brought me home, she told me he looked at me for a while, looked at her and said “that’s nice mom, when are you going to take him back?” Poor Dirck, he was saddled with me right up until the last.
Farewell, brother
Eric
