StevenLaura

We go to church in a Dutch church. A VERY Dutch church.

We work at a Dutch school. A slightly-less-so-than-a-decade-ago Dutch school.

Often after church, we (being new) will be asked our names. Then, when I responded "L and S" we're asked our last names. After hearing "McSomethingorother," the conversation would (nine times out of ten) end or change course. Nope. Not Dutch.

Today at my book group, which is comprised of women faculty, staff, and spouses of aforementioned school, I met an older lady who had missed the last few studies. "What's your name?" she asked. I answered with my first name (I'm still not used to this last name business). "What's your last name?" she patiently asked. "I'm not Dutch." I kindly responded. And she nodded. A perfectly fine answer to her, I guess.

Later, over lunch, the conversation shifted to pastors in the denomination and their preaching styles. "Oh, I do like Pastor MacSomething" said one of the book club ladies.
"Who?" asked someone else.

"Pastor MacSomething."

"Is that a Dutch name?"

"No, it's Scotch."

"What?"

"Scotch... as in, Scottish."

"Really? And he's one of our pastors?"

"Yes."
"But, raised in one of our churches?"

"Yes, out East."

At which point, a story had to be told about how the pastor's grandfather, a Scottish immigrant and carpet maker, had decided to raise his children in the Dutch church in town after laying carpet in their sancutary and discovering the Psalter hymnal. "A whole hymnal on the Psalms? This is the place to raise my children" and thus a MacSomething was introduced to the denomination. This seemed to please the rest of our group enough to satisfy curiosity at such a strange name in their midst.

---------------------------------------------------

Yes, I've a Scotch-Irish last name, too. Which also gets strange looks from time to time. I have more than once heard "so, how did you hear about [our school]? Why did your husband decide to teach here? ... Do you come from a Dutch background?"

I explained today, unprovoked (I couldn't hold it in any longer, so I didn't wait for the question) that [our school] was, actually, a really well known school. That S had considered it for undergrad, and that I'd always known of it. It had a good reputation outside of this little community. That surprises people here. And that that surprises people surprises me. (Sigh.)

Incidentally, a side note to VL (who introduced me to this denomination in the first place). I did play a bit of denomination/dutch bingo myself over lunch. Turns out that this is the same book club that your mother was in years ago. Strange to think that I'm in a book club that has been going on that long.

Perhaps I should become a VanderSomethingorother after all. Or perhaps I should just stick around long enough for McSomethingorother to become part of the denominational bingo game. Then three decades from now, our grandchildren will mention their last name and hear, "Oh, so are you related to the McSomethingorother that..." Then I will sit back, smile, and know we have finally become full-fledged citizens of this community.

Until then, I need to figure out more Dutch traditions so I can fit in better. So far all I've got is windmill cookies during coffee hour after church, and the family's matriarch placing her hand in her purse half way through the service for mints, which she passes down the row to all her family and any of their guests. I haven't been able to figure out what mints she is to buy, though. It seems it is a specific kind. The white ones. Not gum, not peppermint, not the tiny ones you get with nuts... not sure where to get them. So, do the Dutch do those chocolate advent calendars? I hope so, I like those. Perhaps they're sold at the same store as the matriarchal mints.