This year as we celebrate Canada's 150th birthday,
I planted a Canadian Celebration (fire and ice) Dahlia in
June
I am one who also remembers Canada's Centennial year,
as the year we came to Canada.
On this weekend, October 7, 1967
our family of five landed in Toronto
where my mom's newly wed brother and beautiful wife met us.
I remember so well that their wedding gifts were barely unpacked
and they put us up in their home with what they had.
We children slept on the shiny hardwood living room floor
on new acrylic, satin trimmed blankets
that slipped out from underneath us while we slept.
But we were with family!
While this new country intrigued us children in many ways,
it was a dream come true for my dad
and somewhat fearsome for my mom.
After a short stay, we got on the train to British Columbia.
The West Coast, was where my dad wanted to put down roots
because of the mountains.
On this train ride we got a good idea of how big this country was.
Looking out of the window, it was the first time I saw snow.
We arrived in Mission on October 25th
where my mom's uncle and aunt picked us up at the train station
and took us to their lovely home in Abbotsford.
Uncle John and my grandfather (mom's dad) were brothers
who got separated when families left Russia.
My grandfather went to Paraguay as a young man
and his brother to Canada,
getting married and raising their families apart.
Uncle John and Tante Tina included us in their family
gatherings, with gifts to open along with their own grandchildren
and often visited us in those early years.
The above photo was taken on one of their visits
to our first home in Vancouver.
My dad, an accountant, knew he'd have to be willing to do
something else to put bread on the table.
He went to Vancouver to look for work
and was hired by a friend to install furnaces.
(This friend is now my step-dad, Abe)
My dad had saved enough money from the sale of
our beautiful home in Brazil to make a down-payment on the above house.
We moved into this new home in Canada in November.
Even as a ten-year-old, I loved the quaint old rooms
and can still visualize the tiny portico,
leading to the living room, then the dining room with a bedroom to the left
and the kitchen in the back.
The kitchen cupboards were painted baby blue.
Off to the left of the living room was a stairway
leading to two kids' bedrooms with slanted ceilings.
It wasn't long and my dad came home with the first car we'd ever had.
It was old, but beautiful to us and we were so proud of him.
Dad worked at installing furnaces for maybe a year and
then decided to take night courses at UBC
to get his accreditation as an accountant in Canada.
He continued working during the day.
Through connections with others who had come from South America
we ended up in a church where we made the best of friends.
I have been so thankful for my dad's dream
and hard work to get us here,
and mom's willingness to fit in.
Next week also marks the day he would be 85
If only he could see us now . . .
his "old" children,
his 10 beloved grandkids, almost all in their 30's, like he was in 1967,
along with 22 great-grandchildren - who did not get to know him!
Till we meet again,
Thank you, dad!
