I was born June 17, 1943, in Hoboken, New Jersey. I am the only child of Carol Strobert, a nurse from America, and Pieter J. Ketelaar, a sea captain from the Netherlands. My parents met on a cruise to Havana; she as the nurse onboard and he as the chief officer of the SS Veendam of the Holland America Line. What a romantic start to this journey. My father was born in Amsterdam, Holland, and was intrigued with the sea as a young boy. He went on to graduate from the Dutch Merchant Marine Academy and then pursued a career as an officer with the Holland America Line Steamship Company. His travels took him to the four corners of the earth and he would recall to me many of his voyages. He sailed in convoys around the world ferrying troops and supplies to the Allied countries. I have read his diary of the war years, which were quite frightening. Like most who endured those terrible times, he spoke very little of them except about his family, who suffered terribly. My grandmother was shot by the Germans for hiding British pilots in her attic. She posthumously received a decoration from the Queen of England for her heroic work. One of my aunts husband was also a sailor whose ship was torpedoed and he was killed days before the war ended. My father’s cousin, Pieter also, was in the Dutch underground and after being captured by the Germans he was taken to Dachau concentration camp. He was 6 foot 2 inches and 190 pounds when he was captured and a mere 95 pounds when he was released after the war. My father's diary relates terrifying times, like the night the ships on both sides of his were sunk by German U-boats. Just before WWII broke out, his ship was stopped by a U-boat and his captain was ordered to bring the ship's papers over to them for inspection. The captain of my father's vessel was an elderly man who asked my father to go in his place, which he did. I have a picture of him in a lifeboat a friend of his took as he was going over to the German submarine. He only talked about it to me once and he told me that if it wasn't for the kind captain of the submarine he was sure that the German crew, who he said were real dyed in the wool Nazis, would have killed him and sunk his ship. The captain of the sub was an older Merchant Marine officer who told my father that it was okay for him to return to his ship and that they would not harm them. The captain kept his word, submerged his sub and left without attacking my father’s ship. I could tell from my father's voice that he definitely thought he was going to die that day. I think of him when Tom Brokow talks about the Greatest Generation. And yet like others of this generation he was a soft spoken man who did brave things to preserve our freedom and way of life. We owe them all a great deal but to me he was just my dad. It was from my father that I learned what sacrifice was all about and it was a trait I would need to use in the coming years to make my dream of becoming a physician come true.
After the war, my father became a captain with the Holland-America line and sailed many transatlantic voyages between Rotterdam and New York. In the early 1950s he had an opportunity to take a position on land and he reluctantly gave up the sea he loved so much to be with his family. He became the port manager for the company first in New Orleans, Louisiana, and then in Houston, Texas. I have some recollection of that time including hurricanes, Mardi Gras and the difficulties of being a Yankee raised in the South. In that regard, I remember being on a streetcar once and my mother gave up her seat to a pregnant black woman. We got off at the next stop and I remember a man following us. He came over to my mother and told her "Lady, don't ever do that again!" My mother taught me at an early age what respect for others was and it was another trait I would need to draw on in the future. My parents sacrificed quite a bit to educate me. It was a testament to their hard work and sacrifices that, when I graduated from medical school, I had not one dollar of loans to repay. My mother, however, was a stern woman who could be a strict disciplinarian. One day I was playing in the backyard and decided to go with my friends into the woods behind our house. We had to walk on a fallen tree across a small stream to get to the woods. My parents were scheduled to meet on one of my father’s ships with the captain for dinner that night. When I didn’t return on time my mother, now all dressed up for the dinner, went looking for me. She heard us playing in the woods and screamed for me to return. Not hearing her, or not wanting to hear her I don’t remember, she took off over the tree to get me. Unfortunately she fell off and into not water but quicksand and was rescued by one of our neighbors. You can imagine the reception I got when I came home. My mother was furious but she left my punishment this time to my father. I only remember him hitting me that one time in my life but I will remember it as long as I live. My mother worked many long hours at the hospital to help pay for my education. Although I did not plan a career in medicine until I was in my final year of high school, my mother showed me what it was like to help care for others. It was so nice to hear from others how she cared for them and how grateful they were to her. This was a seed that would grow in me over the years.
After living in the South until I was 13, we returned to New Jersey. I attended a private Catholic high school in New Jersey and was a B student at best who, like most teenagers, was more interested in sports and girls than studying and not necessarily in that order. I was in one of the first classes of the new Bergen Catholic High School in Oradell, New Jersey. During the first week of school the Irish Christian Brothers had all the new students run in a one mile race around the school. After finishing second in my class, I was told that I had the potential to be a runner for the track team. The following week I ran for Bergen Catholic in a cross-country race in Van Cortland Park in New York City and I finished third out of some 300 kids. I remember before the race telling one of the Brothers I don't know where to run here and he replied "just follow the other kids." I remember thinking to myself I didn’t want to follow anyone, I wanted to win. Fortunately I followed the kid who won the race until right at the end when one other boy passed me. I received a nice medal for my efforts and I thought to myself this is fun and I must be good at it to do this well the first time out. Running track would become a big part of my high school and college days and it was something I really enjoyed. It was there I learned the valuable lesson of teamwork. It would also hurt me because it almost caused me to fail out of my first year of college. Another good lesson of the determination I would need in the years ahead.
I enjoyed my four years at Bergen Catholic and although it was an all boys school I managed to have a few girlfriends who went to our local public high school. The Brothers who taught us were very strict but provided us with an excellent education. I recently returned to our 50th reunion and saw many of my friends and teachers who like me had aged a bit. It was a good thing they had given us ID’s with our graduation picture on it to help recognize each other. I was fortunate to meet my best friend Arthur King and his wife Millie and we remonisted about the good times we had had together so many years ago. At our reunion Mass we also read off the names of our classmates who had passed on. That was indeed very sad to realize those young vibrant kids we knew were now gone.
Before my interest in medicine began, I initially wanted to pursue a naval career like my father. I visited and then dreamed about going to the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. My father was the port manager for the company in Hoboken at the time and I often went with him to see the ships when they were in port. I could tell he really missed being at sea, but he wanted to be with his family more. It was at this time that the famous movie On The Waterfront starring Marlon Brando was filmed at the piers in Hoboken. My father is even pictured in the movie standing in the background as the gangs were picked for that day’s work. In his later years, he would often go to the shore where he enjoyed looking out over the ocean, the ocean he loved and had sailed on for a good part of his life. The company then moved to New York City in the 1960s, and as the port manager, he was involved in the planning of each ship's arrival and departure from New York City. Shortly before departure, he would meet with the captain and discuss last-minute details about the weather, currents and other necessary details prior to departure on transatlantic voyages to Europe. I remember many of these captains telling me privately how kind my father had been to them and how much they had learned from him when they sailed under him. How proud I was of him. I even forgave him for the punishment I received that night in New Orleans! Kindness was another trait I would need in my future profession and I owe that trait to my father and mother. I was amazed at how these giant pieces of steel could be guided across the vast oceans by men like him. My parents had sent me in the summers to Admiral Farragut Academy in Toms River so I could begin getting a taste of the sea and naval life. It was there that I learned to sail on the beautiful Toms River. I wanted to be like my dad and I dreamed of sailing those huge ships many nights to far off places.
My dream, however, was soon crushed when I failed the physical exam for the Naval Academy because of my poor eyesight. I had already passed the exam from our local congressman and was going to get his nomination to Annapolis. I still feel the disappointment to this day but, as fate would have it, there were other things God had planned for me. I began to listen more to the stories my mother brought home from the hospital. I thought maybe there might be a place for me in the medical profession. I wasn't really interested at first in being a doctor because I had heard how hard the training was. But as I began to hear about all the good things she was doing for her patients, I was beginning to become more interested in it. Although I never felt that she was pushing me, I do feel she made a special effort to expose me to the medical profession. My mother brought me to Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, New Jersey many times. She was the chief of the private duty nurses there and was well known by most of the physicians. It was there that I first saw an operating room and I remember picturing me working in it. I will always be grateful for her for giving me this introduction to the medical profession. I began to talk to physicians about their work and it was beginning to make an impression on me. The seed was now really starting to grow.
My track talents were developed by several coaches at my high school. I enjoyed working hard for a goal. Working hard was another trait I would need to develop to its fullest in the future. Weekends were now filled with travel to different track meets around the New York City area. I competed in such places as the Penn Relays in Philadelphia, many of the Armories in New York City, and even Madison Square Garden. My teammates and coaches taught me how we had to work together to accomplish a goal and over the years we improved and, as a senior, we became the New Jersey State Catholic two-mile relay champions. Others were now starting to notice my track talents and the college offers slowly began to come in. Unfortunately I learned quickly most of the schools were only interested in my running and not my mind. In that era many schools were not interested in the student athlete but rather only the athlete. I was offered a full scholarship to a school in the Midwest but it was clear I could not and would not be allowed to pursue a pre-med curriculum at the same time. The time commitment was just too great I was told. Though I declined the offer to Wisconsin University, I once again thought my other career goal of becoming a doctor might be crushed. My parents assured me that they would not let that happen if that was what I wanted. There I was, only a senior in high school, trying to make a life decision. Many years later I would find out that this probably was a Ketelaar trait to know what we wanted out of life by the end of high school. My father knew, I did, and all four of my sons knew in high school what they wanted to become in life and had pretty much known what career paths they needed to follow. I remember being quite frightened. Was I really interested in being a doctor and straddling my parents with such a big financial burden? Did I really want to study for another 10 years to reach my goal? Was I ready to commit to a career path that if I did not succeed would leave me ill-prepared to do little else? Although I had a lot of doubts, thankfully, I was willing to make the commitment and give it a try. Suddenly things were beginning to fall into place. I was offered a partial track scholarship to a small New England college and I was also accepted into their Pre-Med program. Providence College, in Providence, Rhode Island was willing to give me a chance to be both an athlete and a scholar. My mother had also applied for a scholarship for me through her hospital for those pursuing medical educations. I remember how happy she was when I won the scholarship because the money I received helped to cover some of the costs of my upcoming education. I still had no idea what being a physician was really all about, but I was on my way. I was thrilled and very excited but was about to find out that it would take a lot of studying to fulfill my dream, something I had done very little of in high school. So I was now off to college to pursue the initial steps of fulfilling my dream.
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