Re: A sufario by any other name, Aug. 16 Building Bridges
Every one of us newcomers to Canada has struggled with the problems of what to do with our children. Do we let them be Canadians or do we convince them to never forget the country they came from.
Only they did not come from the other country. My problem was solved years ago by my then-four-year-old son.
Standing in the line up, he grabbed some candies to add to the shopping list. “No,” I said, “we don’t eat that (I meant Canadian chocolate treats), we are German.”
It was a joke, but he took it seriously.
Standing tall, with hands on his hips, he declared very loudly, “Mother, you are German. I am a Canadian.” Everyone around us laughed and thought that was cute.
I did not laugh. I felt that I had just received the biggest lecture and advice that anyone had ever given me. He was right. He was born in Canada, he was growing up in Canada, his roots were in Canada.
There was nothing in Germany that would make him feel at home.
He is now 41 years of age, married to a Canadian and I have a granddaughter who calls me Oma, not Granny.
They both love ketchup and french fries and hamburgers and would never eat sauerkraut.
The only German thing I never gave up is celebrating Christmas on the 24th and that worked out great because on the 25th they can celebrate with the other side of the family. I doubt he keeps that up once I am gone.
So, no, Mrs. Jaffer. It is not a sufario anymore. It is a Canadian pot. Let the kids be Canadian.
Edie Williams, Surrey