Friesen, Klassen, Reimer, Dueck. Chances are, if you spend any time at all in Abbotsford, you’ve met someone with one of these last names. Mennonites, man. We like our borscht, we like our paska, we like our platz. On Friday, I went to an art opening at the Mennonite Heritage Museum. I was nervous because I’m not an art student. As I was interviewing the artist, his parents meandered over with an entire genealogy, and sat down at our table. The entire interview was thrown off, but no matter. As we sat and chatted, the conversation became akin to old friends sitting at a coffee shop. Keep in mind, I’ve never met these people, but that’s Mennonites for you. I received an entire lesson on Prussia, Low German, and why “Klassen” is spelled so many different ways. We looked at their ancestors all the way back to the 1600s, which is a super cool trick that the museum can do (seriously, so cool). Walking in, I was a stranger, walking out, I was family.
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