Ruby Rince van Broekhuizen-Dudrey is my eldest sister. Her middle name comes from our mom’s father Louis Rinze Tency but is spelled differently. Louis got his name from Rinze van Slooten one of two Frisian brothers (Rinze and Sikke) who arrived in the Dutch East Indies in the early 1800s – several generations before Louis was born. Thus was the family story that told of a Dutchman named Morgan van Slooten who was the father of Louis with the Indonesian woman Oedjie but did not wish to give him his last name. Oma Tency (mom’s mother) said they were all buried together in the old Dutch cemetery in Jakarta and indeed there is a family plot where Rinze and Louis Rinze are buried. As I researched the origins of this history, I found that there was once a business, Morgan and van Slooten possibly started by the brothers with a partner with the last name of Morgan. So no Morgan in the name but yes to a van Slooten who was already mixed part Indonesian and part Dutch (the father of Louis) but for some reason didn’t give his son the family name. 

Ruby was born at Sint Carolus Hospital in Jakarta, the third child and first girl in the family.

She was a force of nature – in every way the eldest daughter taking responsibility for all. In Holland when playing with other kids her own age, she was always the headmistress and had them all lined up – kom op kindertjes – come on little children! And with us, her siblings, she would become our caretaker – watching out for us as needed. 

Growing up in our 8 children household, we needed guidance and Ruby provided that – with authority she somehow got the nickname “boerenhanden” – farmer’s hands and she wielded those with so much might that we feared a good slap with those hands if we were out of line. 

When we were still young we would walk from our house at 222 South High Street all the way to Oregon City Shopping Center – quite a long distance. Ruby would lead the way. There was an old brick apartment building that we passed and we would always stop to look for fairies that lived in the gardens in front. Ruby would point one out yelling, “There’s one!” I believed one hundred percent there were fairies but never saw one myself but Ruby always did. I love that she helped us use our imaginations and see the world with wonder. 

Fast forward to her teenage years when she and Rose would “bomb around” cruising Broadway. They were both so cool and fun-loving. They often went out weekends with girlfriends from high school and also our Indo family friends/cousins like Bianca and Lydia Tjaden and Joyce and Vicki Baden. 

Ruby eventually bought a light blue Volkswagen bug which I loved. When I was old enough to drive I always asked to borrow the bug and Ruby never said no if she didn’t need it. I felt like I had made it driving that car. 

As we all got older, Ruby started work at a plaster mold company – Arnel’s – and often came home covered in white dust. Michelle used to walk on the footprints Ruby’s hardworking feet would leave on the floor. Ruby was such a hard worker and gave much of her paycheck to mom and dad to help with family expenses. 

Later Ruby got a job at the phone company and she would eventually retire from it after years of working her way up – each time learning new skills. Ruby was sharp! She had so much common sense and was quick-witted as most of us van Broekhuizens are. She was also really great at crafts – as much as she might not have wanted to acknowledge it, this definitely came from mom who was a crafter extraordinaire! 

But really I want to share with you the Ruby who was so generous with her love for her siblings and especially me. When we were all grown up and living in different states, I always received a Christmas package from Ruby – year after year. Sometimes it was something she had made (like her family of wooden angel musicians) or a teacup and teapot (because she knew I was crazy for teapots). I still have the angels and my special teacup…

And when I visited Portland from wherever I happened to be living, Ruby made a point to do something for me – a gathering with food  usually and everything was homemade. She had a way of making me feel so special – if you can imagine being the sixth of eight kids, special was not a feeling you grew up with… 

Rube’s final years were not easy – struggling with cancer and seeing our sister Rose succumb to the same illness must have been horrific, frightening, and at the same time debilitating. After beating breast cancer and then to be diagnosed with another form of cancer – what a blow. So her last years were neither her best nor her brightest. 

Nevertheless, upon her passing, the church where we held her memorial was packed to capacity with people whose lives she had touched. I marveled at how the pastor who delivered her eulogy captured so much of Ruby’s essence even though he had never known her. 

Ruby’s story is one of love, endurance, perseverance, and hardship, of immigration and childhood wonder, of a sister’s love for her siblings and family. 

I write these memories, most of which you already know about, to put them in a form that can endure so her children can tell their children about the grandmother they never got to meet and they in turn can pass down the stories to future generations. And in this way, the legacy of our parents and of my sister Ruby lives on in perpetuity.