George Jansen has become a man of few words. Telling was his profession for half a century, first as a primary school teacher, and later in the (m)ulo with evening school for adults in the evenings, until ten years after his retirement. Many a shopkeeper in the Watergraafsmeer in Amsterdam obtained his middle class diploma from him. Now, a hundred summers old, the words are increasingly difficult to find, his answers are therefore short, and precisely because of that to the point. The 100-year-old prefers to keep his eyes closed most of the time. Don’t think he’s asleep then, because he hears and registers everything you say and then responds with his facial expression, a nod or suddenly a sentence.
Jansen still lives independently in an apartment in Alphen aan den Rijn, near the river and a stone’s throw from Eek, one of his four living children. That proximity was the reason for moving to Alphen eighteen years ago. Whichever way he looks in his bright living room, he sees a framed image of the Westertoren on every wall. He does not miss his hometown of Amsterdam, he says, where he now lives it is so quiet. Every day one of his children visits him. In the morning, afternoon and evening he receives help from home care. It is arranged that he is alone for two or three hours a day at most. And he strictly adheres to the instruction: never get out of his bed or armchair alone, because a fall at this age can be fatal.
Under his coffee table, among all kinds of magazines, the NCRV guide and copies of daily newspaper Fidelity. He has been a subscriber for 75 years, he still remembers it exactly: since September 25, 1947, the day he married Tiny. His daughter Eek, present at the interview, calls her father harmonious, a man who has tried to avoid conflict all his life.
George Jansen is above all a gentleman, who still wears a tie every day. He has recently exchanged the jacket of his suit for a vest, which is a lot more comfortable. The joke he likes to make is that his pension fund ABP has a ‘big noose’ in him.
How are you?
‘Pretty good, I think. My health is fine, I’m fine, at least I don’t notice it.’
Do you still enjoy life?
‘Very. Especially when there are people around me, like you now. That makes me feel safe.’
Do you have a life motto?
‘A day without laughter is a day wasted. I think that’s the most beautiful statement there is.’
What kind of family did you grow up in?
‘My mother was a hard, level-headed woman. My father worked at the Society for the Dissemination of the Holy Scriptures for forty years. For example, he went to markets to distribute free Bibles and tried to convert people there.’ (Laughing:) ‘So it was a pious mess at our house.’
What did that turn out to be?
‘Not much was allowed. It was forbidden to play outside on Sundays, nor was running allowed. We went to church twice that day, preferably we would have stayed the night there, haha. Alcohol was out of the question in our family.’
Did you secretly drink beers because of all the restrictions?
“I was too cowardly for that.”
Are you still religious?
‘That’s hard to say about yourself. I’m still a churchgoer, but I haven’t become such a pious wag as my parents. I make up this word on the spot. My father would have been disappointed with what I made of it. The church he went to was a bit strange. My courtship with Tiny during the war years introduced me to completely different ideas.’
His daughter Eek says that George could often be found at Tiny’s house, the warm nest that he missed so much with his parents, and where there was a lot of laughter. This is how he came into contact with the open-mindedness of his future in-laws. Tiny’s father didn’t take the Bible so literally. A story such as Eve being tempted by the serpent in Paradise to eat the forbidden fruit of a tree, he believed, was meant to be metaphorical. Because of this flexible position he was banned from the Reformed church for months. ‘Hey father?’ says Eek, looking at George. He nods in agreement and says: ‘It went exactly as you tell it.’
How would you describe the atmosphere in the family you grew up in?
‘It wasn’t much. It wasn’t that cozy. There was always a restrained tension and chill in the house. My parents didn’t get along, it wasn’t a happy marriage. They were tense and often argued.’
Eek shows wedding photos of George and Tiny from 1947. What is striking is that his mother looks straight ahead in every photo in the pasted-up album.
As the oldest of the five children, did you feel responsible to make something of it at home?
‘You choose the right words. I tried to create some fun.’
Do you like the harmony model?
‘That’s right. Also in my marriage to Tiny. She was direct, I thoughtful and accommodating, that worked well. It was a happy marriage and I managed quite well to avoid quarrels in our family. I wanted to have a good time together.’
His daughter cites as an example that when the fruit on the fruit bowl was divided between the seven family members, George always quickly grabbed the banana with the brown spots, to avoid hassle, because nobody would probably want it.
Is that wanting to prevent conflicts because of the tensions and quarrels in your childhood?
“No, that stems from my character.”
How did you deal with that at work as a teacher?
‘There were never any problems in class, I had a good grasp of teaching. But I gave up on a position as headmaster when I was asked to do so. In such a position you cannot avoid conflict. Conflicts are not good for me, it makes me sleep badly. I’m an insider.’
Should you choose your education and profession yourself from your parents?
‘Yes. I chose the training college because of the security that a permanent job as a teacher offers. I have always advised my children to opt for security: a fixed income, a pension, an own home. That gives a safe feeling. You can’t be fired easily in government service. In that respect you are a privileged person with the government.’
I heard you had a student in your class who would later become world famous.
‘Yes, in the first or second class of the university. That was Johan Cruyff.’
What memories do you have of Johan Cruyff?
“He was a very nice boy, not a quarrel. He didn’t really like school and didn’t finish ULO in the end.’
Was he getting bad grades or was he doing something else?
“I don’t remember, then I’d have to look up his reports.” (George Jansen has kept all the lists of marks of his students from his more than 40-year career.) ‘Cruijff was already playing football as the best, because thanks to him our school won a football tournament. I have always followed him on TV. I don’t like a match in a football stadium.’
Did you have to save for your first television?
‘No, that wasn’t necessary. I had two jobs: I taught children during the day and adults at night. We bought a TV for the funeral of Queen Wilhelmina (on December 8, 1962, red.) to see. That Wilhelmina was an aunt. Our living room was full, many neighbors came to see us. My oldest daughter didn’t watch, she went roller-skating outside because the streets were deserted that day.’
Daughter Eek notes that she found it very unfortunate that more and more people could afford a television, because the fun of all those neighbors who came to watch them had gone.
How did you celebrate your 100th birthday?
‘In Avifauna, with 86 guests. With family, friends, people from the church and former colleagues.’
Eek says that he had asked for a smartphone as a birthday present, but that his children didn’t think it was a good idea, because it is difficult to operate with all those buttons. When I suggest that he let him use Siri on an iPhone so that he can control the device with his voice, George remarks, “Thanks for the mediation.”
What is it like for you when your children make decisions for you?
‘I think that’s easy. That may seem easy, but it can also be interpreted as a matter of great trust in my children. And I have.’
When you look back on the past century, what is your first thought?
‘I couldn’t have imagined that so much progress would be made. Given all the possibilities out there today, I would like to be quite young in this day and age. Life just got better.’
The first forty episodes from this interview series are bundled in the book ‘Life lessons of 100-year-olds’, publisher Spectrum, 22.50 euros.