Belated thanks to the residents of Sydney

When it comes to procrastinating, saying “thank you” too often tops the list of duties that we set aside for another day.

My delay however, may indeed break new records, as today I want to extend a “Thank You” to all residents of Sydney for the immeasurable kindness and welcome that they have extended to my family and me 35 years ago.

I always hoped for an opportune time to pass my gratitude, but my recent conversation with a traveler from Sydney reminded me that any time is a perfect time to say “thank you” so here’s mine.

On a cold and snowy night of Dec. 1, 1982, my mother, five-year old brother and I, a 12-year old kid, landed in Sydney as refugees from then communist Poland.

A day prior to our departure for Sydney, Polish authorities granted us a one-way travel document, which meant that we would never again see our family, our friends and our city. We were scared. In the pre-Internet era and from behind the “Iron Curtain” there was little that we could learn about Sydney and its residents. We didn’t know what to expect.

We certainly didn’t expect that awaiting us at the Sydney airport would be an alderman, accordion player and a large group of residents with flowers, candy and a handdrawn sign (which we could not decipher, as it was written in English). It didn’t matter what the sign said. We knew that they were glad to see us and we felt welcome. Soon after, a stranger whisked us away to our apartment on Victoria Road.

This extraordinary embrace didn’t end at the airport. Strangers randomly showed up at our apartment, offering us car rides to Mayflower Mall to buy groceries. Alderman Frank Starzomski and his wife, Delores, often invited my brother and me to enjoy their backyard swimming pool, which also included mandatory English language lessons. And then there was Mr. Blake, a teacher at Memorial Junior High School, who spent inordinate amount of energy on me, a grade 6 student who didn’t speak a word of English, to include me in class activities.

The most profound act of empathy and generosity happened when Sydney residents found out that my mother was a fashion designer and a seamstress in Poland. To our great surprise, they gifted my mother a brand new sewing machine. That sewing machine (which my mother still holds onto) was the ticket to our family’s financial independence. Soon, Mom was able to buy us our first Canadian bicycles and a family car. The future began to look bright.

Thirty-five years later, I credit the generous and welcoming residents of Sydney for providing our family with the foundation for our future success. Even though Alberta became our home, we are forever grateful to the people who allowed our journey to begin. I hope that your spirit of embrace persists and serves as an example to the rest of Canada and the world at a time when welcoming immigrants and refugees is a subject of great debate. I wish that all immigrants, no matter where fortunes may take them, could experience your spirit of community.

Thank you Sydney! I hope to visit you one day again.

Thomas A. Lukaszuk, B.Ed, ICD.D St. Albert, Alta (Former Deputy Premier of Alberta)

A few years have gone by and it seems that the accident rate has dropped considerably where Welton Street in Sydney merges with the entrance to Highway 125 due to the fact that local drivers have mastered an old game – Russian Roulette.

It sure floods at this entrance after a heavy rain. In addition, the lines on the road disappear each time it rains which can become a nightmare for all drivers.

I recall that many years ago lime and water was used to whitewash picket fences. It also washed away after each rain.

One only wonders if the department responsible for painting lines on roads has discovered some formula that was used many years ago.

This entrance is waiting for accidents on a daily basis for drivers who are not from this area. Charles Leforte Glace Bay