I didn’t expect to see him that day. I had a million other things on my mind. But then, in the middle of our Sam Sharpe statue unveiling, Harry Watts came up to say hello. I thought, why had Harry, a veteran of the Second World War – a guy who lived in Kitchener – why had he come to Uxbridge for the unveiling of a statue to a First World War soldier?
“I had to come,” he said. “I had to show my support for a man who gave so much to his troops and then paid so much with his shell shock.” (more…)
He was only 18, back in 1955. He didn’t speak a word of English when he and his parents arrived from Italy. And his skills were few; he knew how to sharpen knives, so his father could butcher what livestock the family had raised for food. But when John Zentana arrived in Canada, none of that mattered. The basic criterion for entry to this new country was simple.
“Are you all prepared to work?” immigration authorities asked.
“Anything,” John’s father promised. (more…)
It was a reverent moment. Our host entered. We had all enjoyed our first meal in the dining hall together, while on the wall over our shoulders a painting depicted Christ and the apostles at The Last Supper. Our host – a middle-aged monk – apologized that not all seven Franciscans normally resident there could be present; two of them – men in their late 80s – had recently been moved to hospital for elder care, he said. Nevertheless a younger 70-ish Brother Dominic bid us welcome.
“We are brothers of prayer,” he said. “But we welcome you here to St. Michael’s, your home away from home.”