Disneyland Closes Early
Swen Nater

As a child, did you ever go to Disneyland? Remember the butterflies in your stomach when you entered the park? There was so much to see, so much to do, and so much to taste. Remember the many aromas of tasty foods that tempted your palette as you walked by the Blue Ribbon Bakery on Main Street and the Thunder Ranch Barbecue in Frontierland? And oh, those fried corn fritters. But take my advice; after you eat, wait a while before going on the Teacups. Everyone seemed happy and excited at Disneyland and the world outside the gates faded from memory. That’s exactly the feeling I had when I came to America.

But that was about to change. Yes, from the time Nanna and I stepped on that plane in Amsterdam until we stepped out of that windmill at NBC, it was like Disneyland. But in the car on the way home to Long Beach, it seemed the lights dimmed, all the rides stopped moving, the food places closed their doors, smiles turned to frowns, and everyone was asked to exit the park early. You see, with my sister and I in the backseat, my stepfather, loudly and with disgust, said to my mother in Dutch (so we could understand), “Now we have another two mouths to feed.” Suddenly, there was a queasy feeling in my stomach.

That’s when I flashed back to when we were on stage with Bill Leyden, the host of “It Could Be You,” and it all made sense. My stepfather was hardly smiling while my mother was overjoyed and when Mr. Leyden extended $600 cash to help them get started supporting three children, my stepfather grabbed the money and held it tightly.

Oh, yes, it was clear. He didn’t want us there. He had the means to bring us over way before that day. My mother became so depressed; she had told the Andersons she was going back to Holland to get us, on her own if need be. That’s when they kicked their efforts into a higher gear to bring us to America and thank God, it worked.

When we got home from the show, reality set in. I was used to the rules of the half-way house but I had never had rules this strict and unreasonable. For example, my dad would eat dinner first and, when he was done, the children were allowed to eat. We were not allowed to talk to each other at the dinner table, nor were we allowed to sit in the  living room; that was for adults.

In the months to come, I would learn how he disciplined, which included the unexpected hard slap on the back of my head and spankings with a tennis shoe on the lower-back until whelps were made. On numerous occasions, my little brother and I were made to stand in the bathroom for one hour, with our hands high on the wall until the blood was out of them and the pain was excruciating. My mother did everything she could to talk sense into my stepfather and intervene, and it helped a lot. You will see later in the story, there was a time when she had had enough.

The airplane ride, the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, the TV show, and being reunited with my parents and brother were like Disneyland for me. They made me forget about the halfway house. I was in America and everything was going to be alright. But this little boy became disappointed. Disneyland closed early. 

In less than one week after my arrival in America, fourth grade was to begin. I told you I was going to tell you about my first day. You’re not going to believe it. Imagine Roy Rogers riding into Roosevelt Elementary School, 75% African American. But, you’re going to have to wait until Wednesday.