Father's day

My dad got off the boat in 1956 with less than nothing.

He owed the Government of Canada the ship-fare that had got me and him and mom and the baby in her belly into the country.

The Government of Canada was hard up for new people at the time.

His first job was shoveling coal.

Years later, when he was sitting in an office, I remember overhearing a conversation he was having with a prominent lawyer in town, about a property deal that apparently was at risk.

"Frank, as a friend I feel for you. As a client, I don't give a shit. Get it done."

Frank got it done.

What sticks in my mind is this incredible trajectory that so many of the post WWII DP's had in the new world.

Stronach and Hasenfratz and all those guys who got off the boat with nothing. Built multi-million dollar empires out of nothing.

Not that my dad was in that league, but he did OK for himself.

My earliest memory of my father is cruising around in a 1950 Ford. My sister was bundled up in the back seat; I stood in the front seat between mom and dad.

Then there was that first day of school. My father took me there and left me there. I still remember him exiting the room with a wave in my direction. He was wearing his green work clothes.

I was the only kid in the class who couldn't speak English.

I felt abandoned.

It was a sink or swim moment.

My dad had experienced plenty of those in his life. Sink or swim.

He swam.

So did I.

Happy father's day, Dad!