Greetings to all those celebrating
Canada's Thanksgiving Day.
My Dad was a boy immigrant to Canada back in the 1930s.
After his brother was drowned in a boating accident
on one of the lakes he had the sad task
of bringing his body home to Wales.
A happier outcome was that before returning to Canada
he met, and fell for my mother,
he met, and fell for my mother,
who refused to entertain any idea of leaving Wales.
Growing up I always felt I'd been cheated of
growing up a Canadian.
I had to settle for being named after somebody called
Hazel Kettle
whom Dad had known in
the much dreamed of land of the Maple Leaf.
I still dream of visiting to this day.
God Bless
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