Born in Quebec, growing up Italian

Yes, I'm Italian; my late parents were Italian; so were my aunts, uncles and cousins; very few still alive, most now deceased. Some were born in North America, but had family who came from Italy and landed in the U.S., others detoured to Canada.

My parents, my brother and I were born in Montreal, Quebec. In fact, my mother's favourite story was how my birth was surrounded with International flavour. I was born at the Jewish General, birthed by a Japanese doctor, assisted by a french-speaking Quebec nurse, and baptised Catholic. Mmm, not such a big deal today, but quite the combination back in '52.

My late godparents were Italian, in fact my godmother came in from Italy as a young teen, and had quite a story about how she mistakenly was sent to Ellis Island. What a story; I loved listening to her stories about her youth. In the Italian culture, your godparents are your second set of parents. It is a role that is taken very seriously.

Why am I talking about my heritage? Well, lately I've been missing the way our culture thinks, lives, loves and respects. I did not marry Italian, and the culture and thinking are completely different.

Taking care of our own is ingrained in us from one generation to another. Being Italian means respect for our parents, our siblings, our family. Family is everything. It doesn't matter whether our parents are right or wrong, we respect them. We never, ever disagree with them in front of others; we can disagree, but in private.

When the time comes to take care of each other, nothing, and I mean nothing stops us from stepping up and getting involved.

I took care of my parents until the end. There was never any question that they would have to worry in their later years if they would get support. Unfortunately, both did not live to a very old age, but I never doubted for a minute that had they lived to a riper age, I would still be there for them.

I don't think the same thinking awaits me.