An immigrant’s memories

By Bill Fox/Columnist

August 24, 1951, I arrived in Canada as a four-year-old with my younger brother and my mom. I was born in Birmingham, England, while dad was born in Scotland and my Mom in Wales.

I recall vividly hearing about the opportunities in Canada and how some of the streets were paved in gold…I have yet to find those streets, but it was certainly true about the opportunities.

My dad and my mom’s brother came over about six months earlier and were sending money back to my mom for our flights. Dad and Uncle Davie found jobs at DE Havilland Aircraft and were living at a YMCA in Toronto. While the three of us were on stand-by for a flight in London, my dad and uncle were laid off as DE Havilland were trimming back their work force.

As a result, my dad sent a telegram to my mom. It read, “Cancel flight. No Job. No House. Returning as soon as possible. Letter following. Lots of Love.” I feel so blessed that my mom never got that telegram! So we arrived at the old Malton Airport and took a taxi to the YMCA. On the steps of the Y were my dad and uncle looking for jobs (as I learned later) in the Toronto Star and Telegram. When my dad saw us, I remember him sadly saying, “What are you doing here?  Didn’t you get my telegram?” The original copy of that telegram I found in my dad’s belongings after he passed away four years ago. It now sits framed in our dining room.

So my dad’s father had a cousin living above a store in Toronto in a one-bedroom apartment. My dad had nowhere to turn and “Uncle Ed and Aunt Sis” were very accommodating as they gave up their one bedroom for us and they used their pullout couch to sleep. Meanwhile, my uncle stayed at the Y.

Eventually, my uncle bought a house on Bastedo Avenue near Danforth and Coxwell, and we rented part of it out from him. There was a sore point here that my mom always regretted. When my grandma on my mom’s side died, she left all her inheritance to my uncle who was single, thinking that my mom had my dad to look after her! Sure doesn’t seem right in this day and age, but regardless, my uncle was able to buy the first house we lived in. I have clear memories of the horse drawn buggies coming up the street with our milk. There was also a horse drawn buggy that would come daily around the streets with bread and bakery products for purchase. Geez those memories make me feel so old, but it was 1952!

Within a year or so, we moved to Sharpe Street in Scarborough. It was there that I started school at St. Teresa’s Shrine on Kingston Road. My first day of school, I left at recess. No one explained to me that it was recess! I just assumed we were let out and it was time to come home. A few more memories from those early school days. We had several teachers in Grade 2. My favourite was Miss Drumm, who left after she got married. I remember several of us were allowed to attend her wedding at St. Teresa’s Church. That was the year I actually did well and skipped ahead to Grade 4. I also recall when Hurricane Hazel hit. I remember walking to school and seeing a lot of Kingston Road under water. As simple as I was, when my parents could finally afford new PF flyer running shoes for me I went to our parish priest’s rectory to see Father Cherrier. He answered the door asking what he could do for me. I just wanted him to bless my new shoes. As I recall, he laughed, but he did bless them.

I’m hoping that all new immigrants that come to Canada look back on fond memories of their first few years here. We immigrants, hopefully, have a lot to be thankful for.

I’m at bdfox@rogers.com if you would like to send me your stories.