Oh, CANADA!

 

My home and native land, you're breaking

my heart. As a child I was a Christ-killer.

I knew that because other children told me so.

Still a child when World War Two ended, I

overheard my father quietly telling my mother

that a mutual friend newly arrived as a 'greenie'

had recognized a guard from the slave labour camp

he had been assigned to, walking along College

Street in Toronto. As a teen I was stopped on the

street or approached on a streetcar by complete

strangers wanting to know where 'I was from'.

Canada, I said, puzzled, born here. As a young

mother scolding a boy who viciously harassed

mine and collaring him off  our property when

the father later knocked on my house door to tell 

me to keep my hands off his son. An afterthought

 paused, asking aren't  you Jews? In a lifetime of 

silent observation and random defence at offence 

reporting schoolboys at the Catholic school's office 

for chanting anti-Jew slogans, I've never doubted 

that Canada is my home, safe and secure. Now? 

Mobs of Jew-hating scum attack my people on the 

street in Canada's major cities. My prime minister 

cautions that anti-Semitism is anti-Canadian and 

so is Islamophobia ... now how did that get into the

conversation? Yes, not woke, just questioning.