Tony At 10: MY WORLD; BLOG #2146; FRI JUL 20,2018

THE MESSAGE:

Immigration these days is a pretty hot topic. South of the border there has been much fuss over a wall on the southern border of the USA. The country has been divided by the apparent cruelty of separating children from parents who try to enter the U.S. illegally. Trump is calling for a new law to govern immigration. In Canada there is concern over the number of illegals crossing the border into the northern neighbour of the U.S.

THE BLURB:

World war II ended when I was five years old. I can remember watching with little or no understanding of what was happening. Why were pedestrians and vehicles parading along Yonge Street?

As a young lad, I grew up in an immigrant Italian family surrounded by immigrant aunts, and uncles in the city of Toronto. I became fluent in the Italian language and believed I was lucky to have such a fun-filled bunch of cousins.

My formal education began when I was five years old. I can remember being somewhat confused by what was happening; from being bullied in grade one, praised for being a quick learner in grades two and three skipping grade four and held back in grade five.

My parents were hard working people who spent sixteen hours a day running a grocery store business that left no time for enlightened parenting. I had no role models to help me set goals and to prepare for the long journey through the teen years and into adulthood.

In those days, and in my reality, the Roman Catholic elementary school system was preoccupied with Jesus, His Mother Mary, the Holy Ghost (I have yet to figured out who he is, why he was needed or what he does), the twelve apostles and missionaries who were saving souls in China. I learned how to confess my sins and still remember being heartily sorry for impure thoughts and using bad language.

My High School years at De La Salle Oaklands were times that were filled with sports and fun but not much learning. The Christian brothers were mainly fun and entertaining but some lacked the necessities or qualities of being a good educator. My eldest sister used to sign my report cards but my parents never saw them. Today the school is a coed facility that has undergone much change since I attended.

I managed to pass the compulsory set of exams that in those days were set by the Ministry of Education and required for admission to the University of Toronto.

As a young man, the impending uncertainty of a university experience was foremost in my mind. Friends gave me some direction but the concepts of becoming a mature and responsible adult remained elusive. My dad was a very autocratic parent. He told me that I was to become a lawyer and as a result I approached my final year at U of Toronto with that goal in mind.

It was due to my mother's extended illness and death, my sister Assunta's dedication, the encouragement of my fiancée' and the assistance of a good friend, Peter Baker, that I stumbled into a career in teaching.

I remember listening to a musical prayer that unselfishly expresses and brings into focus what true love can provide. For myself, it made the onset of a long journey much easier. ALL I NEEDED TO DO WAS TO FIND THAT SPECIAL PERSON....AND I DID!

I began a teaching career with much reservation and uncertainty and no formal qualifications. Eventually, with the assistance of a great Principal a few experienced teachers and many summer courses I learned what was required to become a teacher and coach.

Later as the mazes became much easier to navigate, I learned to appreciate the satisfaction of watching young faces strive for excellence and realize the rewards of hard work and sacrifice. It was a rare day when I failed to learn something new from my students.

As a husband and father I was at times fooled by the ups and downs of providing guidance. After developing a greater appreciation of what was required to attain understanding and growth I experienced the value of true love.

Today, I can look into the eyes of a young grandson, which are filled with the love instilled by a nurturing mother. Or I can chuckle at the boundless energy of a granddaughter, who cannot walk down the street without performing several cartwheels. My children and grandchildren solidify a faith in the values of trust, honesty and love.

I have learned that guns and bombs cannot kill the human spirit; however, the cruel behaviours of some humans towards others most certainly can. I have also learned, that at the end of a tedious and trying day, I could always go home to a loving wife and family.

THE QUESTION: