Okay. I'm going to challenge you on this one. I remember meeting you for the first time in September of 1994. I also remember that you had skipped my first class. That's a bonus, it's not what I want to badger you about. Do you remember the first time you were at my house? Sylvia and I opened our house to MUN's German Society. Do you remember what you brought as a "hostess gift"? ... It was a chutney you had prepared according to what you could remember from your mother's kitchen. This was in 1995. I would suggest you had not yet rejected your previous/birth/mother culture. To me, you were letting me know that this chutney, of which you were very proud (btw. we loved it), was a part of you that you were not willing to let go of. By going back and cooking your familiar dishes now, you are finally expanding on the chutney you were not prepared to let go of then. You know, Sylvia and I will still talk about that chutney 30 years later and, for us, it says everything that needs to be said about you. I watched my father go through what you describe. I sometimes wonder what he would think of a son who spends six months of the year in his two cultures.
My father let me know a lot of things just before he passed away. We spent many nights in his hospital room before his surgery and he wasn’t sure he would make it. I think we both agreed to come to terms with many of my decisions. I wonder if that’s why I was able to become more comfortable with my decisions later.
I do not think I would have been comfortable in moving to Finland had this not all happened.
It’s funny what one learns about one’s father when they are facing the end. I too spent time with my father as he was dying and learned a great deal about him that I did not know. Fortunately, we were able to patch things while still in “The Living Years.” My apologies for bringing up Mike Rutherford. If you wish, and your preference are German, check out “Draußen vor der Tür” by die Toten Hosen (not the Borchert play).
This is so true. But do remember a couple of things. I think till 1995 or so if anyone asked I was intending to go to London as my next stop. I don’t think I truly considered Canada as a potential home till 1996 or so maybe. I do remember a distinct point when I made that decision as I wrote about it in 1999
By the way I was living with a Sri Lankan family and my lovely and amazing aunt Darshani helped me with that chutney. I don’t know if I could make it now.
It’s funny and lovely how we perceive ourselves and each other.
Well, in ‘96 you were still but a young sapling willing to bend to the winds of change (I imagine). What you went through was not that unusual. I have taken in the histories of many of these peopel who came to Canada (after WWII, before that it’s different). Almost every one of them said they had only come to Canada in order to make some quick money over a year or two (my father, Sylvia’s father, and many of the fathers of my friends growing up). Their intention was never to stay. They came single. And then, they fell in love, not with Canada, but with a young lady who had a longer history in Canada, but was still of the same cultural background. And that was all she wrote. The love of Canada came later. It is we, the first generation born there that then had to go through the same thing you described. There was always some point at which one had to make a choice in regard to one’s Canadianess. Many of those I grew up with denied any German cultural artifacts in their lives, only to discover that thier children wanted to hang on to it or regenerate it in their lives. How did I navigate it? It was not easy for me. I’ll tell you about it some day when we’re both bored.
Okay. I'm going to challenge you on this one. I remember meeting you for the first time in September of 1994. I also remember that you had skipped my first class. That's a bonus, it's not what I want to badger you about. Do you remember the first time you were at my house? Sylvia and I opened our house to MUN's German Society. Do you remember what you brought as a "hostess gift"? ... It was a chutney you had prepared according to what you could remember from your mother's kitchen. This was in 1995. I would suggest you had not yet rejected your previous/birth/mother culture. To me, you were letting me know that this chutney, of which you were very proud (btw. we loved it), was a part of you that you were not willing to let go of. By going back and cooking your familiar dishes now, you are finally expanding on the chutney you were not prepared to let go of then. You know, Sylvia and I will still talk about that chutney 30 years later and, for us, it says everything that needs to be said about you. I watched my father go through what you describe. I sometimes wonder what he would think of a son who spends six months of the year in his two cultures.
My father let me know a lot of things just before he passed away. We spent many nights in his hospital room before his surgery and he wasn’t sure he would make it. I think we both agreed to come to terms with many of my decisions. I wonder if that’s why I was able to become more comfortable with my decisions later.
I do not think I would have been comfortable in moving to Finland had this not all happened.
It’s funny what one learns about one’s father when they are facing the end. I too spent time with my father as he was dying and learned a great deal about him that I did not know. Fortunately, we were able to patch things while still in “The Living Years.” My apologies for bringing up Mike Rutherford. If you wish, and your preference are German, check out “Draußen vor der Tür” by die Toten Hosen (not the Borchert play).
Ha I used to play die Toten hosen on air on CHMR!
Have a listen to their "Draußen vor der Tür". It is a mature work and is quite powerful in its own way.
This is so true. But do remember a couple of things. I think till 1995 or so if anyone asked I was intending to go to London as my next stop. I don’t think I truly considered Canada as a potential home till 1996 or so maybe. I do remember a distinct point when I made that decision as I wrote about it in 1999
By the way I was living with a Sri Lankan family and my lovely and amazing aunt Darshani helped me with that chutney. I don’t know if I could make it now.
It’s funny and lovely how we perceive ourselves and each other.
Well, in ‘96 you were still but a young sapling willing to bend to the winds of change (I imagine). What you went through was not that unusual. I have taken in the histories of many of these peopel who came to Canada (after WWII, before that it’s different). Almost every one of them said they had only come to Canada in order to make some quick money over a year or two (my father, Sylvia’s father, and many of the fathers of my friends growing up). Their intention was never to stay. They came single. And then, they fell in love, not with Canada, but with a young lady who had a longer history in Canada, but was still of the same cultural background. And that was all she wrote. The love of Canada came later. It is we, the first generation born there that then had to go through the same thing you described. There was always some point at which one had to make a choice in regard to one’s Canadianess. Many of those I grew up with denied any German cultural artifacts in their lives, only to discover that thier children wanted to hang on to it or regenerate it in their lives. How did I navigate it? It was not easy for me. I’ll tell you about it some day when we’re both bored.