Essay: My Canadian mom

The first Thursday of each month, my newly immigrated Italian family gathered in the kitchen of our small suburban Toronto home. My father would spread all the bills on top of our blue Formica table. My eldest sister, 11-year-old Anna, would carefully fill out each cheque. We had a tiny book that aided her in the spelling of numbers ("eleven" and "twelve" were the trickiest).

While we four younger children watched, my mom would toast the strange Canadian bread, which was soft, slightly sweet and came presliced. She would liberally sprinkle the slices with oil and salt before handing them round. We loved these Thursday evenings. They became a wonderful ritual in our home.

Anna, who was five years older than us, was not only the first person in our family to learn English, but also the first to understand Canadian culture. Although our real mother took care of kissing our boo-boos, cooking and nagging us about our grades, it was Anna who quizzed us on spelling, corrected our grammar and integrated us into Canadian society. She took on the role that my immigrant parents could not fill — she became our Canadian connection. Because of her responsibilities, we fondly referred to her as our "Canadian mother."

Immersing themselves in Canadian culture
My parents wanted to send us to a Catholic school filled with other children of Italian immigrants, but Anna convinced them we would assimilate more quickly to Canadian life if we were exposed to many different cultures and religions. So we were promptly registered in a public school. 

She also persuaded them to buy us ice skates so we could join the other kids on our local pond. Granted, our parents didn't do everything Anna suggested (they never bought us Tang — which we thought was the drink of gods), but without Anna many Canadian delights would have passed us by.

Christmas in Canada
Even Santa Claus (who was not celebrated in Italy then) came to us courtesy of my sister. The idea of Santa was magical to the four of us youngsters, and we pored over every Santa story we could find. It did not matter that he only dropped off one present for each of us (whereas our friends welcomed in Christmas morning with an Everest-size pile of gifts). That one present Santa gave us was greatly treasured — he'd come!

Click to continue to discover which Canadian icons Anna introduced to her siblings...

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