Mom & Dad Showing Me How

I find it remarkable that I am still learning new things about my parents after they are dead and gone. Why is it that some truly remarkable things we don’t appreciate until we are much older? I remember as a young kid growing up with my three younger siblings we always had a housekeeper to help around the house and babysit us while mom and dad were at work. This was an odd situation in the late fifties as the moms usually stayed home while the fathers left us each day to go do their jobs.

My mom was a receptionist at a doctor’s office and my dad was a steel fabricator specializing in marine construction. Both had the nine to five Monday to Friday gigs which was the norm back then.

Through my mother’s work she met some single pregnant women- usually in their teens. Back then in the late fifties unmarried mothers were scorned and some families would kick these young mothers-to-be out of their family homes for fear neighbours would find out and the embarrassment of a daughter being considered to be of questionable moral fibre was too much and if the Sunday church goers found out, well that was a social calamity none wanted.

My mom had a soft spot for these single mothers and would offer one of them room and board in our home for the remainder of their term in exchange for caring for us kids during work hours and perform housekeeping tasks like laundry, cleaning and some meal preparation. Mom called it the training course for motherhood. Being under the age of seven at the time we were unaware of the social implications an unmarried single woman would have to endure and frankly it was none of our business. So for a number of years we would have a pregnant young woman caring for us as a live-in nanny and we were fine with that.

So for about five months one of these ladies would become part of our family and partake of all we did together day by day and even during Christmas and similar holidays. Thinking back it seemed that we would treat these ladies as kin and be excited and engaged with the birth of the baby like any realitive would. Then came the parting as the young mom moved out of our home and onto the next stage of her life. Some ended up marrying the fathers, some just moved out on their own or back with their real families after giving the child up for adoption. Some formed very close bonds with my parents, and I can recall receiving Christmas cards from a couple of them for many years to follow.

As I got older and wiser in the social dynamics of the times, I had a greater appreciation for my parents and how progressive they were in helping others in a bad spot. Mom passed a couple years ago and we got a sympathy card from Dianne - one of the young mothers who lived with us. The card contained a hand written letter expressing her deep admiration for my mom and dad and the great significance of them helping her in her time of need and how she was grateful for our surrogate family and all the love she experienced while living with us. That letter was eye-watering to read.

I learned of my dad’s extraordinary kindness from one of his employees during his celebration of life. Dad died in 1986 due to an aggressive brain tumour at the age of 54. He was diagnosed in April and he was gone in October of the same year. His celebration of life was an eye opener as many old friends, colleagues and former neighbours all attended his wake, some travelled from a distance away. Many spoke of how helpful he was and how he assisted them beyond just fixing a furnace or a broken automobile. We were not rich, but some told of him lending them money when they were in a bad position or when we went fishing some of our salmon and crab catch would be gifted to those we knew in need.

The one story I think about most was told to me by a fellow named Peter who had a long Polish surname I have since forgotten. One of my brothers and I were sitting at a table with Peter having a beer during my dad’s wake as he told us about how dad helped him and his wife. He felt he had to make sure we knew of my father’s kindness to him.

They were immigrants from Poland in the early 50s. Peter was a terrific welder and knew much about the steel industry, metallurgy and the like. He worked in dad’s fabrication shop for a number of years. Dad needed a shop foreman and offered the position to Peter, who happily accepted it.

Peter explained to us how he worked in the job as best as he was able for a couple of years, until dad called him into his office one day. He handed Peter a contract and asked him to read a clause in it. Peter said he knew then he had been caught and was ready to be fired. He explained to us that he and his wife didn’t know English when they first immigrated and could not read or write English. He revealed he had some tricks he had learned about doing business without the need for reading and writing. He told us he apologised to my dad for not being truthful with him and he understood why he was being let go.

“I’m not letting you go,” my dad told him. "You do good work and expect it would be better still if you could read and write. So if you want to attend night school to learn to read and write, I’ll sponsor you." At this point Peter choked up as he told how my dad paid for both he and his wife to learn to read and write English. He told us how this was an even greater benefit for them as their lives here in Canada improved substantially more with their new communication skills. They also named one of their sons after my dad.

Following dad’s celebration of life ceremony I asked my mom if she knew of how dad helped Peter and his wife. Mom said that was something dad would do frequently, he would help where and when he could and not always in the simplest way, but usually the best way. Mom said he did things even she didn’t know about until somebody told her of how dad had helped them. He was quite modest about his assistance and would not make a big deal about how he helped others in what is now called ‘Paying it Forward’. Turns out dad was doing it long before it became popular.

I wish they were still with us so I could tell them how proud I am of them and their advanced view of the world and how we can all play a larger part in helping others with their struggles. I like to think I share the same helpful traits as they demonstrated, but I know I am not in the same league as my parents were.