"In this country, you need an education to get ahead. You've got to do well in English and mathematics. I don't want you ending up like me."
As I was opening the car door, I heard Mr. Kennedy say, "Oh, the Polak who belongs in a garbage truck can actually get that old heap of a car running."
When we backed out of the driveway, I was careful not to look at Mr. Kennedy. Mom and dad were busy talking in Polish and waved back when Mr. Kennedy gave a smile and a wave.
It seemed we were going to the Polish deli and then to the post office. Dad was very keen on collecting stamps. When a new issue came out, he always went to the post office and bought a corner block. He kept these in a special album with a plastic sleeve for each group of four stamps. I collected stamps too, but only used ones from mail we got. Most of my collection was Canadian stamps, from the various bills and things that got delivered. I also had some Polish stamps from relatives who were still in Poland. These were often much bigger than Canadian stamps and had colourful pictures of butterflies or spaceships. My dad said not to bother with Polish stamps since they weren't worth anything.
"But," he said, "these Canadian mint stamps I have will be worth a lot someday."
He didn't say it, but he meant he hoped we'd have more money and be able to afford to buy our own house rather than rent a beat up one next to Mr. Kennedy's beat up house.
The stamp today was a winter scene in Quebec. "Dutch painter Cornelius Krieghoff," said my dad in the post office. Mom was still in the deli. She always found someone there to talk with in Polish. Dad bought some regular stamps for mailing bill payments and things like that. He also got some Christmas stamps with pictures of candles, in different amounts, which he called 'denominations.' These were for sending Christmas cards to people we knew in Canada, the U.S. and Poland. I still sent letters to my old friend Marek in Gdansk. We used to play together every day but haven't seen each other since I moved to Canada. The only mail I ever get is from Marek. Sometimes he sends used Polish stamps.
What's funny is that Mom and Dad call Mr. Kennedy 'Canadian' and still call themselves 'Polish.' I'm not totally sure what I am. I speak perfect English, at least I think I do until I get my English tests back. Mom and Dad can speak English, but Mom always looks for places where they can speak Polish. Mom goes to English classes during the day while I'm at school. She says she wants to work in a beauty parlour, but Dad says, "We'll see."
It's important to get out and have fun on Saturday since pretty much all of Sunday we will spend at Saint Jolanta's Catholic Church. Mom likes to help out in the kitchen and Dad gets to talk with people from outside our neighbourhood. I have two friends there but it's not really that much fun.
