And the opposite would be true if the move was in the other
direction but it would be highly unlikely for a North American to don a turban
and leave the t-shirt and sneakers behind. It’s not just about the clothes
though. It is what they symbolize.
We are very reluctant to leave behind our previous language
and culture although some do try very hard to do so. I grew up in Toronto where
there was a major influx of Italians coming over from all parts of Italy in the
1960’s. Generally speaking, they spoke Italian a lot at home but would try very
hard to use English in the local community and while talking to neighbours so
the friction level was reduced. In fact, I took Italian in high school instead
of French because I wanted to try to be able to communicate with some of the
older and nicer Italian folks in the neighbourhood.
That didn't mean that they refrained from growing vegetables
in their backyards and making home-made wine as they did in their native
country. Land was scarce where they came from and this new found treasure was
too hard to resist. The home-made wine was not to my liking but you learned how
to cut it with ginger ale that was delivered to the neighbour’s house from the local
Italian soft drink distributor. They wanted to welcome you into your home and
share so they fit nicely into the neighbourhood.
At school, you were presented with a veritable melting pot
of all cultures imaginable and everyone wore clothes that would make them blend
into any crowd. In winter everybody wore a toque (head sock) because that is
what you wore on your head to keep it from freezing in Toronto in the winter.
If anyone came to school with a knife, they were immediately
suspended. A knife was considered a dangerous weapon and you were breaking the
rules (period). We all sang the Canadian National Anthem and recited the Lords’
Prayer to start the day off in every class. The anthem was sung in a loud voice
and the prayer was mostly mumbled with the exception of the Catholic kids who
were more religious than a lot of other kids in the class. Nobody fought over
that stuff in the schoolyard.
We argued more about whether Johnny Bower or
Jacques Plante was a better goalie in the NHL (six teams back then). It was
also a stupid argument because they were both superb defenders of their nets
and it was more like saying what flies higher a 747 or a DC10? They both fly
way up there.
I guess my message is like all the others you see on
Facebook. We need to stop being so liberal in our school system and society in
general. We got a good paddling at home if we did stupid stuff, we got a smack
in the head at school if we were extremely disrespectful or even the strap and
we learned how to respect each other. We didn't go around shooting each other
and we didn't have gangs in big numbers. There were a few but those were
largely all dropouts who would amount to nothing later in life.
I think the whole world needs to show more respect for each
other and that means we need to punish those that don’t starting right down
there in kindergarten. And I can see all the mom’s practicing attachment
parenting and chasing the next bimmer saying “Oh know you can’t do that”. Mom and
Dad too, you would be better off staying at home more and teaching your kids
some real values and using appropriate punishment for bad behaviour.
You know then the new immigrants might actually want to be
more like you and accept the local cultural values more instead of grasping at
all manner of reason to justify their need to hang onto all of their baggage.
Let them have some but encourage them to take on the new ones in their new
home. Instead we threaten them which make them hold on even tighter to the old
ways.
Being liberal is not a bad thing if you don’t end up being
an extremist and the same can be said for the other side of that argument. We don’t
need to be always right wing and left wing.
I thought Dave Keon was a better centre than Henri Richard
but I know you would come back with Jean Beliveau was better and I would have to
agree. I would then say “You wanna play in or out” and Carlo would always wanna
play in and be Johnny Bower. Man I hated losing that one all the time but the
game was so much fun and we played just about all day long until our mom’s came
and got us.
Sometimes my mom and Mrs. Tuzi would come together and it
was kind of funny to watch. My mom didn’t speak Italian and Mrs. Tuzi only knew
a few words in English but they were nodding and saying yah yah a lot. They
didn’t understand the meat of the conversation but that didn’t matter. They
were really good friends.
I last saw Mrs. Tuzi at my mom’s funeral (my mom passed away
at the ripe old age of 93). Josepha (Mrs. Tuzi’s first name) was sad to see her
friend pass on. Josepha’s English is still lacking but she still knew how to
smile at me and express her condolences’ which were much appreciated since they were truly genuine. Carlo (we
call him Chuck now) brought his mom to the funeral. I still have this picture
in my head of my mom and Josepha running like little children to go get a
shovel to scoop up the stuff the horse left that was pulling the milk wagon. It
made your stuff in the garden grow real nice so they said.
The neighbourhood is not the same anymore. Murders happen on
the corners where we use to stay out real late and get the smack or belt for
doing so. I couldn’t live there now but it was a lot better way back then. How
do we make the world like that? Maybe we could work on that a little instead of
worrying about what colour dress some actress wore to the Oscars or whether a
bimmer is faster than a Mercedes?
Our values sure did get twisted didn’t they?
And you know everything was in black and white with a whole
bunch of shades of grey in between. Right and wrong was pretty clear and the
grey just meant that everyone was just a little different than the next person.
We got along.
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