Operation Sunshine for Annie Smees

The stretcher was set down. Annie looked aside and then… then suddenly there was a tear in her eye, which she hastily wiped away. But another one came, and another… Oh, this – no, she had not expected this after her absence! A whole new little house with two French doors through which she saw a new table – and chairs – and her little radio stood next to her bedstead on a brand-new bookcase and then a beautiful lamp – and… and… once again the emotion became too much for her and as she was carried inside, she let her tears of joy and gratitude flow freely…

Would there be no solution!

It must have been about half a year ago that Hendrik Arentsen, clothier in Aalten, visited Annie Smees for the umpteenth time. She had been bedridden for so long, so very long – for as many as fifteen years – and humanly speaking, no cure was possible anymore. Arentsen looked around. The room where the sickbed stood was pleasant enough in terms of space, but he knew it was damp and that at ten o’clock in the morning, the sun bid farewell to Annie for the day.

What a pity, the clothier thought, that this girl, who already sees so little of the outside world, cannot receive a bit more sunshine. Could no solution be found for that? Could no other room be found? Would no other room be available for the girl? – He talked about it with father and mother Smees, but these elderly people did not know either. After all, had it not gone well for so many years? For three months of each year, Annie had lain in the small garden house, and for the rest of each year, she lay in this room.

Was there then no other place at all in the farmhouse where Annie’s bedstead could face south? “Our bedroom,” said mother Smees, “but then again, that has no window looking south.” Well, that became more difficult. Especially since the farmhouse is not owned by the Smees family. Nevertheless, Mr. Arentsen kept thinking about it. Annie had to have sunshine. If only he and all those friends, family, and acquaintances who visited her regularly could give her that! It had to be possible somehow.

And it worked! It worked much better than Annie’s friends had expected. For when permission was given to exchange the room of father and mother with that of Annie and to furnish it as a cozy sickroom with a large window, a chimney, wallpaper, and floor covering, then the donations poured in.

At birthdays and weddings, from private individuals and businesspeople, everyone who belonged to Annie’s family, friends, and acquaintances was immediately prepared to respond to Arentsen’s appeal and to contribute a stone (or sometimes a large stone) to the costs that had to be incurred. Thus Operation “Sunshine” was born, and the amount of one thousand guilders involved in the improvement and furnishing of the room was soon exceeded and grew to two thousand guilders!

“It is by no means the intention to squeeze money out of you,” Mrs. Te Loo from Bredevoort wrote to us, “but we found this spontaneous sympathy for the sick Annie Smees so lovely and so heartwarming that we thought: we must write this to De Spiegel. It could be an example for others.” And so it is indeed!

Before Annie arrived with the ambulance, we took a look around. We saw her previous sickroom, where almost no sun comes and from which she saw practically nothing of the road. The road, which is already a long way from the farmhouse. The room is also located entirely on the other side of the house, so that Annie also saw nothing of the activities performed by her parents, brother, and sister around the farmhouse, and as a result, she also had little contact with her housemates.

No, then her new room is better in every respect. Through a door, the little house is directly connected to her parents’ bedroom, Annie has a better view of the road and the yard, and the sun can shine in unhindered from morning until late in the afternoon.

When she was carried inside – as we already wrote – several family members and friends were there to be present at the handover. We saw the mayor of Aalten, her physician, Dr. H. Knol with his wife, Alderman Te Roele, the chairwoman of the Red Cross, Aalten branch, Mrs. Van Egmond, and many more. They all came to congratulate Annie on her new residence and to listen to the deed that Mayor Van Veen read out and handed to her. It contained the following:

“On this day, the first of Nov. 1957, was transferred in unencumbered property by the Honorable (“yes, that is me, Annie, how do you like that?” the mayor laughed) E.S. van Veen, mayor of the municipality of Aalten, to Miss Annie Smees, Heurne 4, also municipality of Aalten, a double-walled and tile-roofed wooden building, measuring over three by four meters, with double windows, mantelpiece, asbestos chimney, tiled terrace, electrical installation with accessories, balatum, carpet with two rugs, chair, bench, table, book furniture, lamp, oil heater with 200-liter tank. All this is the result of a campaign conducted among friends, family, and interested parties under the motto ‘Operation Sunshine’.”

“It has overwhelmed Anneke,” said her parish minister, Rev. R. Siertsema, “therefore she cannot find words to thank you all and has requested me to do so.” “Let us also not forget,” Mayor E.S. van Veen said a little later, “that although Annie has this cross to bear, she nevertheless manages to let many who visit her go away again with a joyful and grateful heart. Unconsciously, she has been a blessing to many people, and I am sure she will continue to be so.”

Annie lay there perfectly happy, the red cyclamens bloomed on the windowsill, flowers scented the whole room, and her folded hands lay in the mild light of the joyfully shining autumn sun.