Tag Archives: tolerating differences

Confidence . . .

. . . That Bridging the Cultural Gap Can Succeed

I shift my weight again, trying to find a comfortable spot on the oak bench.  Then the judge enters and the ceremony begins: the one in which a young man in my family will become a citizen of Canada.

As I listen to the preliminaries, I realize that although I’ve been a Canadian from birth, I’ve never been to one of our citizenship ceremonies before.  Looking around the room with interest, I see a few white faces, but many more in shades of brown.    Continue reading

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Morality and Multiculturalism

The world is changing!!!

Despite the excited punctuation, this is not news: Change is the one constant mankind knows.  Countless millennia ago some venturesome animal stood up on its back legs and stepped out into a new life, never to be the same again.

Today, I sense that my world is poised to plunge again onto uncharted ground.  No longer do different peoples live relatively isolated from one another.  I lift my phone and connect with a friend in a different culture, as easily as if she lives next door.   Continue reading

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Eggs and Grease

May 1942: It’s spring, and my university year is over. I’m heading for my Calgary home. From there it’s out to the farm, where I was born and raised. I love that place, the land, the life, the beauty of the prairies.

I feel very adult. Dad’s having trouble getting help this year, so I volunteered. My help can’t be described as skilled, either in housekeeping or as a tractor driver, but it’s better than no help. This year he needs someone to drive the tractor, while he sits on the machinery being pulled, and operates it.

This is a wonderful summer job and I’ll remember it forever. Things are different now. Both Mom and Dad are treating me more like a grown-up.   Continue reading

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Beloved Animals Who Have Shared My Life: A Sequel

This is an encore presentation of a blog on another beloved animal –
not a sheep this time, but a chicken.

Spring was here. The farm hummed with new life including newly hatched chicks. Dad arrived at the back door cradling a little chick, about three days old. The mother hen had hidden her nest, and the brood was just discovered. “He’s damaged,” said Dad, “He drags one wing. I’ll have to destroy him but I feel badly, the little guy is so game!”

The chick looked up at us and chirped and, of course, the battle was won. A pen was built in the house yard, hand feeding and cuddling by all of us—talk about bonding! Dad still worried, saying, “This won’t work. Chickens don’t accept anything that is different.” – but we did not want to listen.   Continue reading

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Life Skills

Vignette #2 of 3

The room is festooned with banners and balloons, menorahs and crèches.  The noise level is high as people gather.  Laughter, hugs, kisses, and warm greetings identify this as a family gathering.  The group finally gets seated, and dinner is about to be served.  Two women rise.  One recites a Hebrew blessing, and the other an old Scottish Christian one.  Thanks acknowledged, attention is turned enthusiastically to the food.

We live in interesting times and in a rapidly changing world.  Many world areas have a great diversity in their population.  To live fully has always required hard work, well developed life skills, and a dash of good fortune!  The multicultural mix adds more complications.  For such a culture to flourish, it needs understanding citizens who value acceptance, and who reject prejudice.

Old fears die slowly.  For many eons we have been comfortable only with those “like us.”  How enriching to find people with different colour, religion, and race who cherish the same life values that we do.  What a marvelous opportunity for us all.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah.

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Our Feathered Friend

“Man’s inhumanity to man”  Robbie Burns

Spring was here.  The farm hummed with new life including newly hatched chicks.  Dad arrived at the back door cradling a little chick, about 3 days old.  The mother hen had hidden her nest, and the brood was just discovered. “He’s damaged,” said Dad, “he drags one wing.  I’ll have to destroy him but I feel badly, the little guy is so game!”

The chick looked up at us and chirped, and of course, the battle was won.  A pen was built in the house yard, hand feeding and cuddling by all of us — talk about bonding!  Dad still worried, saying “This won’t work.  Chickens do not accept anything that is different” – but we did not want to listen.

Charlie, so he was named, grew quickly as chickens do.  Well fed, well loved, well exercised chasing after Doris and myself – all the while dragging one wing.  When we called he came, answering as he did.  The family chicken flock was “free range” before the term was known.  Sometimes they would be right outside of the house yard fence.  Charlie would press against the wire fencing of his pen and call to them, with no apparent response in return.     Continue reading

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